Insatiable

Chapter Thirty-five

7:00 P.M. EST, Friday, April 16

910 Park Avenue, Apt. 11B

New York, New York

The most amazing thing-to Meena, anyway-was that she never would have guessed he was a killer. Not at first glance, anyway. He was dressed so nicely, in dark form-fitting jeans, a cashmere sweater, and a long, black leather trench. The scarf around his neck looked as if it were made from cashmere, too-at least from where Meena was standing-and brought out the blue in his eyes…the kind of bright blue eyes that wouldn’t have been out of place on some hunky blond heartthrob making his way down a red carpet or paddling a surfboard off a sandy white Australian beach.

They hardly looked like the eyes of a killer.

Except that Meena had known that’s what he was from the moment she’d opened the door and he’d brought the big bouquet of red roses down from in front of his face.

Why had she fallen for that old trick? That bouquet-in-front-of-the-peephole trick? She deserved to get killed just for falling for a trick she’d used a million times herself in her own scripts.

And now here she was, facing down death in nothing but her bra and a black silk slip. She was furious with herself for not having grabbed a robe first, or something she could at least have employed as a weapon…a can of hair spray and a lighter to use as an impromptu flamethrower…even a shoe, for God’s sake, to throw at the guy.

But she hadn’t realized how close she was to death until now, when it was too late. All she’d reached for was her BlackBerry, which in almost any scenario was pretty much useless.

And in this case it was just plain pitiful, unless she wanted to call some cops to come over and be killed along with her.

Because no way was this guy going to let himself be arrested without a fight. She could tell that just by looking at his handsome, pitiless face.

And of course, like any proper assassin, he already had a foot wedged firmly inside the jamb, so she couldn’t slam the door shut in his face. It would just bounce harmlessly off the edge of his steel-toed boot.

The fingers of his right hand rested on a you-know-what. Yeah. It seemed unbelievable, but given everything else that had gone on this past week, Meena realized she shouldn’t have been surprised. It was an honest-to-God sword hilt.

She held her breath as that blue-eyed gaze drifted toward her.

“I am not here for you, Meena,” he said, in a German-accented voice so deep, it seemed to reverberate through her chest.

How could he know her name? She had no idea who he was. She’d never seen him before in her life.

And yet…she felt as if somehow she’d known him forever.

Maybe that’s how everyone felt when they met their killer.

Or maybe it was just Meena.

He unsheathed the sword. The blade made a ringing sound in the stillness of the hallway, clear as a bell, as it came out of its scabbard.

Meena swallowed hard.

It’s amazing what you think right before you die. All Meena could think, for instance, was, Wow. No foreplay for this guy.

Then, Wait, that’s not even funny.

Then, Although actually, that would make a good line for Victoria on the show. Then, But I’m not going to live long enough to write another episode for the show. This is so unfair.

She knew just by looking at her killer’s rock-hard, chiseled profile that there wasn’t the slightest flicker of hope.

But it’s incredible what we’ll do to try to survive.

Meena pried her lips apart. Forced her tongue to moisten them.

“I know you’re lying,” she said. “You’re holding a sword. You’re here to kill me.”

“I’m not lying,” he said. “Just tell me where he is, and I’ll let you live.”

Meena had no idea who-or what-he was talking about. She pointed at her purse where it hung on the hook she’d slung it onto after coming home. “Look,” she said. “There’s plenty of money in there. I just went to the cash machine. Take what you want and go. Otherwise, there’s some costume jewelry my great-aunt Wilhelmina left me, but it’s all fake, I swear to you…”

He looked annoyed. Meena felt her heart rate speed up. Way to go, Meen. Antagonize your killer. That’s smart.

“I already told you, Meena,” he said, his dark blond eyebrows raised a little sarcastically. “I have no interest in killing you. Only him. But if you are going to be difficult…”

Difficult. He had no idea how difficult Meena could be. Especially since she already knew she was as good as dead.

Meena knew then that she had absolutely nothing to lose.

Which was why she chose that moment to hurl her BlackBerry at him with all her might.

Hey. It was all she had. That and her life.

Then she turned around and made a run for it.