He’d used her.
Not just used her, destroyed her. Or come very, very close to it.
He saved you too, her overactive sense of justice insisted on pointing out. Yes, he’d saved her when he could just as easily have stood by and watched her die. But in her current state she wasn’t all that sure she was glad he’d done it.
“Hey, cut it out!”
The voice reached her as if it were coming from someplace far off but she knew she couldn’t trust her senses anymore. Everything seemed far away, half hidden behind the veil of hunger and pain that perpetually clouded her vision.
“I said STOP.”
Hayden stood perfectly still and tried to get a sense of where the voice was coming from. She’d reached the edge of the Quarter and the crowd had thinned to a mere trickle of weekend partiers. Up ahead, a tour guide ushered gaggle of tourists toward a dilapidated town house. A couple leaned on each other for support as they veered into a bar and the sound of a lone saxophone echoed out across the silence.
No sign of the woman who’d cried out for help.
Had she asked for help? The woman hadn’t actually used the word—it was really none of Hayden’s business—but the cop in her couldn’t let it go. Adrenaline surged through her, banishing the veil and giving her new strength.
To her right, an alley disappeared into darkness.
She crossed toward the entrance, her hand reaching for the place where her holster would have been. Nothing there, not anymore. Before she’d left Boston she’d resigned her position on the force and turned in her department-issued Glock. She felt naked without it, absolutely vulnerable.
“HELP ME! PLEASE!”
The voice died immediately but it didn’t matter this time. No question it was coming from the alley. No question about it being her business. Hayden set off down the alley, running full speed.
“STOP! POLICE!”
Not exactly true, but Hayden figured the woman wouldn’t mind if she stretched the truth a bit. At the other end of the alley, two shadows detached themselves from the darkness, a woman and a huge hulk of a man whose hand was clamped over her mouth. The two of them were pressed against the side of a building, the man’s body blocking the woman’s face from view. Up and down the alley, windows remained dark.
With his free hand, the man fumbled to unzip his pants.
“STOP! POLICE!”
He glanced over his shoulder and went back to what he’d been doing. Pushing the woman’s head back against the brick wall, he shoved his fingers up her skirt.
Hayden’s hand went to the stitch in her side. Waves of pain shot through her, forcing her to slow her pace. Another few seconds and she had to stop altogether. She leaned against a brick wall to steady herself and doubled over, taking in great gulps of cool air.
Jesus.
She’d run, what, maybe ten yards?
Another glance in her direction. This time the man actually smiled, revealing crooked, yellowed teeth. His eyes were glassy drunk and heavy with lust. Behind him, the woman struggled wildly to free herself from his grasp.
Hayden staggered forward a few more feet before collapsing against the building. She slid to the ground a little at a time, fighting the fall the entire way. Why hadn’t she brought her cell with her? What in the name of God was happening to her—the old Hayden, the cool, controlled detective with a reputation for perfectionism, would never have made that kind of mistake.
Chapter 1
Start from the beginning
