Well, at least quit thinking of him in any way the least bit sexual, she told herself as the car stopped and the elevator doors parted. He’s the worst candidate for a lover for you. The absolute worst! For God’s sake, use your head, Adria!
Trying to ignore Zach, she stepped into the long hallway. It was deserted and quiet. Almost too quiet. Too empty.
Don’t let your imagination run away with you.
She attempted to shake off the feeling that something was out of place, just not quite right, but as Adria reached for the door, she felt more than a second’s hesitation. Dread made her hand pause, her key extended. Silly as it was, she had the eerie sensation that someone or something evil had been here recently, and a frisson of fear swept down her spine.
Which was ludicrous. She’d just had a long day and the notes and package she’d received earlier were getting to her—that was all. Still, she hesitated before inserting her key.
“Something wrong?” Zachary asked, so close she could feel his breath against the back of her neck.
Don’t be silly.
“No, of course not.”
He lifted a dark brow, encouraging her. “You want me to go in first.”
That did it. “No, Zach, I think I can manage,” she said sarcastically. “Relax with the bodyguard tactics, okay?” Managing a thin smile, she pushed her key into the lock and shouldered open the door.
She took one step inside.
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 arms 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.
“Like hell. You’re afraid and I’m afraid. Don’t give me any of that crap. Look, I didn’t fight you when you wanted to go to the press, and I stood by like a friggin’ wooden Indian while you gave your interviews. But I’m not gonna have something happen to you just because you’re too bullheaded to back off when some major nutcase is threatening you.”
“You want me to back off?”
“Hell, yes!”
“That’s what he wants. What he expects.”
“Fine. Who cares?”
“I do.”
He glared at her. “Then you’re not as smart as I give you credit for.” He crossed the room and grabbed her shoulders before thrusting his face next to hers. His nostrils were flared and his eyes narrowed. “You’re getting out of here tonight.”
She decided not to argue. She couldn’t stay in this room a second longer than necessary. “I get the message,” she said, her nerves beyond frayed. “And you’re right, I am afraid. What happened here tonight scares the hell out of me.”
“It should.”
“But,” she admitted, “I’m trying to stay as calm as possible—which isn’t easy.”
“Amen to that.”
“So how does he get in here?”
“With a key—someone on the staff,” Zach said, thinking aloud as he took another quick look around the room. He squeezed her shoulders gently, then let go. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. You’re not safe here.”
She didn’t try to stop him from calling the police. He was right; she knew it. Len Barry wasn’t on duty, but another detective, Celia Stinson, arrived and took charge by sealing off the room and calling in a crime-scene team. The hotel security officer wasn’t happy, but Stinson didn’t seem to care as she gave orders, took notes, and listened to what Adria and Zach had to say. Then, after hearing about the notes, dead rat, and observing firsthand the magnitude of the stalker’s depravity, she advised Adria to move. Pronto.
“And I’m not talking about just down the hall,” she said, eyeing the cracked mirror, picture, and smeared blood as a photographer took pictures of the scene and another officer was dusting the room for prints. Still another was carefully vacuuming the carpet. “This creep means business. And he’s dangerous. Go to another hotel, preferably far away.”
Adria provided the detective with a statement and a list of people she thought might be trying to terrorize her. Most of them were members of the Danvers family.
Who would try to terrorize her?
Jason?
Trisha?
Nelson?
Someone she didn’t know about? Someone who was afraid that she really was London Danvers.
Adria glanced at Zach and prayed that he wasn’t a part of this…surely he wasn’t. His fear and anger seemed too sincere.
But who? Who was so desperate? So determined? So deadly?
From the corner of her eye, Adria caught her reflection in the cracked, bloodied mirror and her heart nearly stopped. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, her image distorted.
For the briefest of seconds Adria felt as if she’d been given a glimpse of the future and witnessed her own death.
19
Hell.