“Works for me,” he said with a shrug. “Voyeurism isn’t my kink. But I did bring these, as you requested.”
The nape of her neck began to prickle as he reached into his duffel bag and removed a roll of duct tape and an ostrich feather.
Her mouth went dry. These did not look like the tools of a locksmith.
She thrust her hands into the pocket of her sweatpants and wrapped her fingers around the small Swiss Army–style multi-tool she carried everywhere.
“What’s all this?” she asked, working hard to keep her voice steady.
He frowned. “It’s for our encounter.”
Her heart dropped into her throat. “Whatencounter?”
His eyebrows shot up into his receding hairline. “Oursexualencounter. The one you placed an ad for on Craigslist.” He removed a pair of handcuffs and two long rubber gloves from his shoulder bag. “I brought these, too, just as you asked.”
She swallowed, struggling to force words out of her parched throat and into her mouth. “But I never ...”
Time stood still as her mind began to pinball in a thousand different directions. Brendan wouldn’t be back until the end of the week. Kiersten was at the library. Rosamund, Miles, and Guinevere had gone to a renaissance festival. None of her neighbors were home.
There’s no one to hear you scream.
Except the girls, who were down in the basement playing Barbies. Which was why she needed to get this man out of her house and away from her daughters.
Now.
She gripped the multi-tool in her pocket and managed to surreptitiously unfold the corkscrew. She would blind her assailant, restrain him with the duct tape, and call the police.
“Thisis1405 Beaverbrook Lane, is it not?” he asked, his face suddenly pale. “And youarePiper, are you not?”
She widened her stance, blocking the entrance to the kitchen, turning herself into a bulwark between him and her daughters. “I am. How did you get my name?”
He held up his phone, hand trembling. “It’s right here. You said you wanted a BDSM sexual encounter today between the hours of 4:00 and 6:00 p.m. at this address. You asked me to bring handcuffs, rubber gloves, duct tape, and an ostrich feather. Your safe word is macaroni.”
“Listen.” Piper spoke slowly, forcing herself to remain calm. “I believe you. But I never placed that ad. I have no idea who you are or what you are talking about. And I need you to leave. Now.”
The man’s gaze began to dart around the foyer. “Is this a setup? Where are the cameras?”
She took one step toward him. “There are no cameras. You need to go. Now.”
An ugly scowl twisted his features as he took a step closer. “Did Bernice put you up to this?”
“Turn around, open the door, and walk outside, or I call the police.”
He craned his neck, looking up at the ceiling. “I know you’re here, Bernice. I know you did this,” he began to shriek. “You set me up. You set me upagain.”
In one fluid movement, she removed the corkscrew, placed it against his ribs, and opened the front door. Then she pulled him through the doorway, off the front porch, and to the Prius he’d parked in her driveway.
“I didnotplace this ad,” she repeated. “I don’t know Bernice. Never come back here again. Do you understand?”
His shoulders slumped as he pressed his key fob, unlocked the door, and climbed into his car.
“Craigslist is no longer the festival of carnal delights it once was,” he muttered, shaking his head in disgust.
“I’m sorry to hear that. Good luck with your next ... encounter.”
He looked up at her from the driver’s seat. “Even though you didn’t place the ad, are you sure—I mean, I drove all the way down here from Bethesda.”
“I’m sure. Thank you very much. Do not come again.”
