Revulsion hit Katie like a punch in the stomach. It was everything she could do to search for the key to her old apartment in her coach bag, fit it in the lock and open the door. She wasn't sure who she hated more, her ex-husband or herself. She didn't understand how he could feel such disgust for her and her profession, yet summon her here month after month. Oh, she understood the money. Blackmail for money was an easy concept to comprehend. It was the sex she didn't get.

She shifted uneasily in her knee length button up tan coat. Reaching for the belt, she knotted it tighter around her too slender waist. She knew she'd lost too much weight recently. Constant fear and agitation had taken its toll on her figure. She spent every waking moment terrified that the FBI were going to break down her door. All because of the man whose apartment she was about to enter.

Something didn't feel right. Usually she heard the sound of music or the TV blaring. The smell of food would hit her as she cracked open the door and stood nervously waiting for his summons. Colin liked to keep her waiting. Like a dog or a slave. Today she heard nothing.

She pushed the door open further and saw that the interior of his apartment was flooded in darkness. Had he forgotten about their appointment? Impossible. It was the same time every month. Since the day of their divorce a year ago. She would come to him on the 25th of the month at 8 pm, like clockwork. If she didn’t, he would make the call that would end her life.

Something definitely wasn't right. Her legs began to shake. She wished desperately that she wasn't wearing four inch heels. Not that it was her choice. Colin chose her apparel for these visits. It rarely deviated. He liked the easy access of the coat, heels and nothing else.

She stepped further into the apartment, allowing the door to close behind her. The sound of the muffled slam made her jump. Her heart pounded in fear and her palms dampened. She smelled something metallic.

Blood.

She bit her lip to hold back a whimper. “C-Colin?" she whispered. Then realized he wouldn’t possibly be able to hear her unless he was standing right next to her.

"Colin!" she called in a stronger voice.

When he didn't answer she took a few more steps closer to what used to be her kitchen before the divorce. Before Colin had taken everything from her and then demanded more every month after. A $25,000 payment and her on her back with her legs spread, a willing vessel for him to use as many times as he wanted before kicking her out like some dirty whore. Something he liked to call her during their hours together. She shuddered.

With shaking fingers, she reached for the light and pushed. The bright overhead light blinded her for a moment. She blinked and then turned her head toward the metallic smell, forcing herself to brave the possibility that something might have happened to Colin. She gasped in horror as she took in a pool of blood that was far too big for someone to simply walk away from.

She whimpered and backed away from the kitchen, intent on reaching the door, her eyes glued to the blood. It was almost perfect in its shiny depth, the way it was spread across the floor. No smears, or prints to mar its glassy surface. She forced herself to blink and continue moving toward the door. She would call the police as soon as she got down to the lobby.

Her heels were the only sound in the apartment as she shuffled slowly backward toward the door keeping her eyes on the blood, as though it would somehow attack her. Before she could reach the door, her back hit a solid wall of muscle. She opened her mouth to scream and would have jumped away, but a hand clamped over her lips and another around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She was dragged backwards into the heat of a very hard, very male body.

She knew instantly the man holding her wasn’t Colin. Her ex-husband was the same height as her when she wore heels. And he wasn’t near as hard as whoever was pressed against her back. This man was rock solid. Was this man responsible for the massive pool of blood on the floor? Of their own volition, her eyes fell to the crimson lake. She tried to struggle, but the man held her so tight, all she could do was wiggle helplessly against him.

He groaned and pushed his face into the back of her neck, nudging his nose into the short blond hair and breathing deeply. W-was he actually smelling her? He tilted her head to the side and forward a little so she was forced to look down. He ran his nose down the exposed arch of her throat from her ear all the way down to her shoulder. He was definitely inhaling her scent. His lips teased her shoulder and he tugged the sleeve of her coat a little until it moved toward the edge of her shoulder exposing more skin.

Oh god, what was he doing? Was this man going to rape her in her ex-husband’s apartment? Had Colin’s depraved mind come up with some new kind of punishment? But how did that explain the blood? Somehow, she knew deep inside that the blood belonged to Colin. Just as she knew no one could survive the loss of that much. She whimpered against the hand.

Her fear seemed to penetrate his fascination with her skin. He straightened to his full height, which was still several inches taller than her, even in heels. Though his broad palm remained firmly over her mouth, he used his thumb to rub her cheek soothingly as though to calm her. She blinked rapidly as his thumb brushed too close to her eye, her eyelashes sweeping over the rough pad. He groaned again from behind her and tightened his arm in response, pulling her further into the cradle of his thighs. She gasped into his hand, feeling the rigid length of his cock through the back of her coat.

Then she caught sight of the tattoo that ran along the edge of his forefinger. His trigger finger. It said, “For Dexter.” Her dead brother's name. She stiffened in his arms, anger suffusing her as she realized exactly who held her. She didn’t bother struggling. There was no point. He was too tall and outweighed her by a lot. The bastard also had a ton more street fighting experience than she did and wasn’t afraid to fight dirty.

He chuckled darkly from behind her. He knew the exact moment she realized who he was. He dropped his hand from her lips, no longer worried that she would scream bloody murder, and slid it down the front of her body. He wrapped both arms around her waist, still keeping her arms pinned to her sides and dragged her tightly back against him. He thrust his erection into her ass.

“What are you doing here?” she hissed angrily.

“Think that’s pretty obvious,” he growled, bending his head to speak in her ear. “Come for you, pretty lady.”

She shivered against him, her eyes falling on the blood. “Wh-what did you do to Colin?” she asked, her voice both a plea and a hope.

His body became rigid, his arms so like steel bands around her that they hurt. He didn't speak for a moment. She got the feeling he was controlling himself so he didn’t say or do something he might regret. She frowned, her breath catching in her throat. Roman would never hurt her. Would he?

“You don't have to worry about him anymore.”

Katie opened her mouth to argue with him, but he brought his hand up to cut her off, pressing his palm against her lips once more. “You don't want to talk to me about your husband right now, Katie. Nod if you understand?”

She shivered and nodded quickly. She wanted to know what he did to Colin, but Roman was like a wild animal. He’d always been dangerous and unpredictable. There was no telling what he was going to do next. Until she was in a better position. Like on the other side of a locked door, her questions could wait. He moved his hand again.

“What happens now?” she whispered, hoping that one question would be okay. Was he going to let her run back to her life now that he’d done whatever he’d come to do?

“You come with me, like you should have years ago when I asked you to.”

She gasped and jerked in his arms. “Impossible!” she told him.

She had a job in Milan in just a few days. She absolutely couldn't go with Roman. She knew the odds of his letting her out of his sight. The man had an eerie way of tracking people. The only way she’d managed to escape him all those years ago was because she’d begged him to let her go. And for some reason her opinion had always mattered to the street hardened criminal.

“Not impossible, Katie,” he growled at her. “In fact, it’s a fucking promise. You’re coming with me this time. I’m done living without you.”

“No!” she gasped out, lunging in his arms. “You can't do that, Roman. I have a life. I won't go with you!”

“I’ve been watching you, Katie, my love,” he growled at her, lowering her struggling body to the floor as she twisted in his arms. He took her elbows and locked them behind her in one strong grip. He pulled something from his pocket with his other hand. “You live a half-life. I’m done watching from the shadows while you slowly kill yourself. It’s time to start living again.”

“With you?” she spat out, glaring at him over her shoulder.

“With me,” he confirmed.

When she realized what he held, she begged him to stop. She threatened him and tried to kick him with her sharp heels. He ignored her threats and her pleas. He pinned her to the floor, lifted her coat to her thigh, baring the smooth naked skin. He froze when he realized she was completely bare underneath. Then he shoved his hand roughly into her coat to confirm his suspicion, cupping her bare breast.

She gasped and surged up into his hands. He slammed her back into the floor, treating her with a lack of care she’d never felt from him before. He leaned over her, his breathing finally as heavy as hers and growled in her ear, “Knew the fucker was blackmailing you. Had no idea you liked it enough to spread your legs. Maybe I should’ve let him live and just walked away from your mess.”

She screamed and fought to get away from him. He cut her screams off with a heavy hand over her lips and plunged the syringe viciously into her thigh while she beat at his chest. After a few seconds, she stopped fighting, her body gradually going limp beneath him. He pulled her across his lap, cradling her head against his arm, and smoothed the coat over her nakedness.

She watched his dark, sinister face as she drifted into unconsciousness. The only man she ever truly loved. The man she feared above all others. He’d finally come for her.