[Listen to the audiobook narration]
Carmine Hannover loved cheap hotels. They made her feel dirty and sensual. She perched on the narrow double bed and ran her fingers over the stiff white sheets. The scent of dust and mothballs wafted in the air. In the pokey bathroom, a leaky faucet dripped. Her parents would cringe with disgust at The Barnett Inn. That’s why Carmine had selected the hotel for her romantic rendezvous. Her parents’ disapproval also motivated her choice of lovers. With each passionate encounter, Carmine gave her parents the finger. Take that, you stuck-up bastards. You don’t control me. Not anymore.
She dropped her tote bag on the bedside table. The Kate Spade cost ten times what she’d paid for the room but only half the nightly rate at her parents’ hotels. Carmine always paid in cash, and the hotel manager never asked questions. He understood the needs of his clientele. Nobody checked into The Barnett Inn to be recognized.
Carmine flopped on the bed. She pressed her back to the hard mattress and ran her palms along the curve of her thighs. The light fixture on the ceiling had collected dust and dead flies. A damp stain snaked around the light. The shape resembled a giant python that had swallowed a small deer. But the foreboding image didn’t dampen her spirits. Tonight was going to be magical. This lover was special. Their relationship wedded pleasure with business. Together, they’d change the world—and her parents wouldn’t know what hit them.
A knock on the door launched Carmine to her feet. Her lover had arrived early for a change. She touched her hair, a final act of preening before their reunion. But when she opened the door, her excitement faded. The man with the ill-fitting uniform and folded white towels was not her lover. Carmine had never encountered the cleaning staff of the hotel, and she’d assumed The Barnett Inn didn’t employ bellhops.
“Your towels, ma’am.”
The black strap of a duffel bag dug into his shoulder. The incongruous detail ignited a warning light in a primal corner of her mind, but her annoyance at the intrusion extinguished the internal danger signal.
“I didn’t order towels.”
He smiled earnestly, and her skin crawled.
“I have to put these in the bathroom.”
Her senses heightened, and her heart rate accelerated. Something about the bellhop had activated her fight-or-flight response. He seemed harmless enough. The bellhop was average in every way—hair, height, and build—the invisible sort of man she’d never give a second glance or remember meeting. Thanks to years of martial arts classes, Carmine never feared for her safety. She could floor this guy without breaking a sweat. Why was she overreacting? Letting him in might be the quickest way to get rid of him.
Carmine stepped aside. “Make it snappy.”
The man entered, swung the door shut behind him, and dropped the towels.
“Scream and you’re dead. Do as I say, and nobody gets hurt.”
Carmine blinked at the handgun he aimed at her chest. She knew better than to resist. A brown belt in karate offered no protection against bullets. He issued a series of terse commands, and she obeyed. Within seconds, she lay on her back, her wrists and ankles bound to the bedposts with zip ties.
Her heart thumped, but still, she didn’t fear for her life. The petty criminal must have spotted her expensive bag and followed her to the room. Let him take what he wants and go. He didn’t seem interested in rape or kidnapping. He didn’t know who she was—and thank God for that. She’d be more discreet in the future.
He stood over her, a silver roll of duct tape in his hand. “Hold still. I need you to keep quiet so I can get away.”
Carmine nodded and let him tape her mouth shut. The ordeal was almost over. Her lover would arrive soon and release her. They wouldn’t report the crime to the police. The incident would expose their relationship and compromise their shared goals. No matter. Carmine was a confident and independent young woman. Soon, she’d look back on this holdup and laugh.
But the man didn’t escape with his loot. He stared at her and smirked.
“I admire your work, Carmine.”
Panic flared within her. He knows my name. He’d mentioned her artwork. This was no opportunistic robbery. Carmine pulled at her restraints but only bruised the soft flesh of her wrists.
He chuckled. “Oh, yes. I know exactly who you are, Ms. Hannover. I’ve been watching you. I’ve been watching you for a long time.”
Chills snaked down her spine. The creep had been stalking her, and she’d had no idea. Had her parents sent him? Had they hired the thug to spy on her and scare her into “mending her ways?” Worse yet, had they discovered her plans and decided to silence her?
The stranger sat on the edge of the bed. “You’ve lived a charmed life, Carmine. But inside, we’re all the same. I’ll show you.”
He shot to his feet. Steel tools clinked as he rummaged in his duffel bag on the floor and out of sight.
Carmine’s breath came in quick, shallow gulps. I’ll show you. What did that mean? Was he going to rape her? Hurt her? No! Carmine was a Hannover. Her parents were too proud to have their daughter abused like a street hooker. But what if her parents hadn’t sent this stalker?
She glanced at the closed door. Any moment now, her lover would come knocking and send the attacker fleeing. Where are you?
Movement drew Carmine’s attention to the foot of the bed. In a gloved hand, her captor wielded a large carving knife.
Carmine strained and shifted on the bed, but her sealed mouth turned her screams into muffled groans. Nobody passing by in the corridor would hear her or know of the danger she faced. Her lover was her only hope. But would her savior arrive in time?
Still brandishing the knife, the stranger leaned over her legs. Carmine shut her eyes and braced for the pain. But he didn’t stab her. He slid the blade inside her pant leg and tore through the length of her slacks. Carmine froze, too terrified to flex a muscle. He sliced her slacks from her body and tossed them aside. Her blouse followed, then her panties and bra. She squirmed, completely naked and utterly vulnerable. Fear flooding her, she hazarded a glance.
The stranger feasted his eyes on her exposed body. His trousers bulged at the crotch, but he made no move to undress. He didn’t plan to rape her. He just wanted to see her naked. She clung to that conviction for all she was worth.
“You’ve taken good care of your body, Carmine. Good for you.”
Rage washed away her fear, and the old Carmine returned. How dare he talk to me that way! He’d pay for this. Her parents’ lawyers would make sure the pervert spent the rest of his days behind bars.
The stranger studied his knife blade with interest. “We have something in common, Carmine. I’m an artist, too. From one artist to another, I want to apologize for lying to you. I said I wouldn’t hurt you. But this will hurt. This’ll hurt a lot.”
Her rage evaporated. “Please don’t hurt me. My parents have money—lots of money. They’ll give you whatever you want. Just, please, don’t hurt me.”
But the tape over her mouth turned her pleas into a pathetic, inhuman wail.
“Save your strength. Nobody can hear you. And frankly, I don’t care. But I want you to know one thing. Your art inspired me. We’re going to recreate your iconic design, right here and now.”
At that moment, Carmine understood exactly what he’d to do to her. Her life was over. No. No! This couldn’t happen to her. She stared at the door, willing her lover to rescue her.
The stranger laughed. “Nobody’s coming to save you, Carmine.”
She studied him in terror. How could he know that?
“Nobody knows you’re here. Not even your secret lover.”
He knew about her lover. I’ve been watching you. He knew everything. A horrific thought gripped her. Had her lover sent him? No, that made no sense. Why was this happening to her?
The killer sat beside her on the bed. He ran gloved fingers over her flat, naked belly, and goose bumps broke out on her skin.
“You like to make artistic statements, Carmine. Together, we’ll send a powerful message.”
He placed the blade to the delicate skin at the base of her full breasts.
Please don’t. I beg you. She searched his eyes for a hint of human compassion and found none.
“We’ll create a masterpiece. Only this time, you’re the canvas.”
