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The room was freezing, the air conditioner rumbling.
Adria’s gaze fastened on the full-length mirror near the closet. Her blood turned to ice. “Oh, God,” she whispered, biting back a scream.
“What?” Zach demanded, striding past her, only to stop short as he viewed the scene. “Jesus!”
The mirror was cracked and smeared with blood, as if someone had put a fist through the glass. Upon the splintered pieces, a large, mutilated photograph of Adria had been taped. Her head was severed from her body, the bloody crack in the mirror slicing across her neck. Her eyes had been cut out and rimmed in blood, the mirror behind streaked red, so that when she looked at the image she saw the reflection of her eyes cast in blood.
Adria began to shake. “What kind of monster would do this?” she whispered.
“Someone who wants you out of the picture.” Zach wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t look at it.”
She couldn’t drag her gaze away. Fear congealed inside. “This is crazy,” she whispered. “Certifiably nuts.”
“You got it.”
“Someone hates me.”
“Very much, and you’ve got him backed into a corner.”
“Oh, God.”
“You could just give up, you know,” he said, his chin resting on her crown, his arms wrapping around her. “Forget all this London stuff. The family would pay you—”
She pushed away from him. “Is that what you want? Are you…are you some part of this sickness?” she demanded, her mind racing. Was Zach here at someone’s behest, to be her savior, to talk some sense into her, to make sure she was being driven away?
“I want you to be safe.”
“And leave.”
“Adria—”
“It won’t work. I think I told you before, I don’t scare easily.”
“This isn’t a little prank.”
“I know. But I’m not backing down.” Though she was trembling, she set her jaw. “I can handle this, Zach,” she said and wrapped her ar
ms around her middle. “Sick, twisted bastard. He won’t get away with it. I won’t let him.”
Zach eyed her a second, then quickly checked the bathroom and closets. Both seemed okay. They were alone. “Whoever did it is gone, but not by much, the blood isn’t completely dried. Maybe he got careless, maybe he left a fingerprint or hair or something.”
“Bastard,” she muttered, her insides turning to jelly. Despite her brave words to Zach, she wanted to fall into a million pieces, to throw in the towel, accept defeat and leave. Who the hell cared if she was London Danvers? It wasn’t worth it. Not when she was dealing with a psycho. And yet she couldn’t. Not when she was close enough to have obviously scared the living hell out of the bastard.
“I’m calling the police first and hotel security second.” He checked out the room, then strode to the bedside phone.
“Wait a minute.” She reached for his arm.
“Like hell! This is serious, Adria. Whoever is doing this to you is sick. First the rat, now this.” He picked up the receiver.
“Whoever is doing this is running scared,” she pointed out, trying to keep from panicking, which was damned hard to do. She was safe, she reminded herself. She was with Zach.
But isn’t he part of the family? Hasn’t he encouraged you to back off—even suggested taking a payoff?
The back of her throat turned dry. Could she trust him? And if not Zach, then whom? “I just need a minute to think and…and sort this out and—”
“Stop! Don’t even go there.” He glared at her. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t a kid’s prank. Some major pervert is on your case. He’s obviously unhinged. No telling what he’ll do next.”
“I’m…I’m not afraid,” she lied.
