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had never faced the prospect of violence before. Somewhat in shock, her

thoughts seemed icy clear and removed at the same time. This was about

subjugation, control, and revenge. The malignancy of the crime was brought home

to her.

What he was threatening would be beyond horrible for her, and it would torment

Tyber for the rest of his life. She knew him; he would feel responsible for not

protecting her. It was an illogical male attitude, but she was positive Tyber

would blame himself.

LaLeche was right—it was a chilling revenge, for if he succeeded in carrying out

his threat, it surely would destroy them both.

She had to think of something to put a stop to his line of thinking. There was

only one thing her fear-numbed brain could come up with. "There will be

evidence…."

" I have a condom right here in my back pocket—what evidence?" He started

approaching her again, this time with deadly intent.

She moved around the sofa. Did he think she was going to go down without a

struggle? "I'll fight you; I'll make sure there will be bruises, scratch marks,

trace evidence—"

"I'll do my best to prevent that, you understand. I'm quite strong; it won't be

too difficult for me to subdue a tiny thing like you. And if you should manage a

few black-and-blue marks—" He shrugged. "Trace evidence—not much to convict a

man on. If you happen to have some bruises—and you will—well, it will look like

your boyfriend just got carried away. Everyone knows he's something of a wild

man."

He thought for a minute. "Even if you do decide to press charges, there will

always be that doubt in everyone's mind: Maybe the illustrious Tyberius Evans

abuses women and she's protecting him. Should do wonders for his career, don't

you think? He'll have you to thank for that as well. Remember, it will be my

word against yours." He moved a little closer to her.

"I think my word would carry the greater weight." She edged into the

kitchenette.

"A reporter looking to get her name in the news? Think of what a good lawyer

could do with that in a courtroom."

My god, he's going to hurt me. Too late she realized that he had backed her into

a corner with no escape. Before she could think what to do, he was on her.

He tore at her clothes, slamming her hard against the wall. Zanita fought back

with all her strength, screaming. LaLeche had been right about one other

thing—she was no match for him physically. He had her at his mercy with

ridiculous ease. Zanita sobbed, feeling utterly helpless against his aggression.

Tyber, her heart called to him. Tyber…

LaLeche unzipped his pants, holding her captive with one powerful arm across her

throat, blocking her air passage. She couldn't stop him. Nothing was going to

stop him.

Later, she could never figure out what had caused her to blurt out what she did.

At the last possible second, she screamed, "We have a file on you!"

LaLeche froze. He raked her with a contemptuous sneer. "What kind of file?"

Zanita was shaking uncontrollably, tears streaming down her face.

"Answer me, dammit." He grabbed a hank of her hair, slamming her head back hard

into the wall. Little spots appeared before her eyes. Zanita willed herself not

to pass out, afraid that if she did, she might not get the chance to wake up.

"An—an FBI file. They know all about you, LaLeche. They've been after you for

years. They'll find you. And when they do, you'll pay for what you've done to

innocent, trusting people."

LaLeche paused, thinking over her words. "Did they trail me here, or was this

investigation strictly your idea? Tell me or I'll end this here and now." The

dire threat paralyzed Zanita.

He slapped her across the face, splitting her lip.

"It—it was my idea, but they—they know we have the file."

"Then they probably haven't been trailing me…." A bead of sweat trickled down

his forehead. "They don't have anything on me, you know. Not a damn thing.

Still… It's best I don't press my good fortune." He abruptly released her.

"Today's your lucky day, Zanita. It appears I must be on my way again." He

strode quickly to the door and opened it, cautiously checking to see if the

coast was clear. He turned back to her. "I'll be seeing you… sometime."

He was gone as quickly as he had come.

Zanita slumped down to the floor, clutching her stomach. The aftermath of shock

would soon be setting in. A roil of nausea flipped her stomach. Her insides

churned. She rushed to the bathroom, just making it.

She vomited repeatedly into the commode. When the spasms had passed, she

automatically rinsed her mouth out and brushed her teeth, not even thinking

about what she was doing. When she noticed a toothbrush in her hand, she

couldn't remember how it had gotten there.

She sagged back against the wall. Her only coherent thought was: Tyber.

As soon as her wobbly legs could support her, she rushed out of the bathroom,

grabbed her purse where it had been knocked to the floor, and ran out of the

apartment as fast as she could.

She needed to—had to—reach Tyber. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew

she wasn't thinking rationally.

She was probably in shock. But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered except

reaching Tyber.

Somehow, she was in her car, driving to the mansion. Horrifying, disjointed

thoughts raced across her mind. What if LaLeche had headed out to the mansion?

What if he had already harmed them? These tortured thoughts hammered at her as

she sped along the highway to the house, miraculously not stopped by a trooper

for speeding.

Overlying everything was the gut-wrenching irrational fear, the unqualified need

to see Tyber. To have him hold her. For him to rub her back and whisper in her

ear in that special way he had, telling her not to worry, that everything would

be all right.

Fumbling in her purse, she found the gate opener, letting herself onto the

grounds. She turned into the curve of the drive, her tires squealing as the car

braked to a stop. It was still rocking when she slammed the door, racing up the

stairs and into the house.

Passing the parlor, she noted Hambone lying in the sun in front of the large

picture window. She closed her eyes in relief, not stopping her