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he’d stolen from the restaurant in his left hand. Fortunately, he was ambidextrous enough that he often fought with his left just to throw his opponent, who was more often right-handed, off balance. It wasn’t much, especially if he was facing two or three people, but today his experience and prison tactics were all he had.
    Fully expecting a bullet to come whizzing out from the interior, he ducked as he threw open the door. But nothing happened. When the door merely shut, he didn’t know what to think. Especially because that floss hadn’t just slipped to the ground; whoever had gone into his room had tracked it inside. In the split second the door had swung wide, he’d spotted it lying on the carpet.
    Not only that, the light was on, even though Virgil had turned it off.
    He couldn’t imagine a maid would be that sloppy. But a maintenance man? Maybe.
    Propping the door open with his groceries so he could get out fast if he had to, he crept inside. If someone was waiting for him, he couldn’t see who. Or where. The chair was tucked under the desk. There was no space under the beds. And only a very skinny man would be able to conceal himself in such a tiny closet. The doorof that closet stood open, anyway, from when he’d taken out the ironing board.
    Whoever it was had to be in the bathroom.
    Pressing his back to the wall so his reflection wouldn’t be visible in the mirror, he listened for movement and heard…nothing. Then, just as he was about to step inside, he caught a slight rustling.
    The shower curtain…
    His intruder was in the tub.
     
    Peyton’s chest seized the second Virgil threw back the shower curtain and hauled her toward him. She twisted her ankle struggling to stay on her feet despite her high heels, but the scream that built in her throat never escaped. He had her on the carpet outside the bathroom with a knife to her throat so fast she could barely whimper.
    “What the hell are you doing in my room?” he growled, pinning her beneath him.
    Snippets of the many nightmares she’d had since starting work in corrections flashed through her mind as she stared helplessly up at him. He’d just been released from ADX Florence, could be as dangerous as anyone at Pelican Bay. She halfway expected him to slit her throat, but he cursed and threw the knife to one side instead.
    “What the hell are you doing in my room?” he asked again, only this time, in many ways, it was a different question. There wasn’t an edge of menace in his voice anymore. He was irritated and angry, yes, but she no longer felt that her life was in danger. He got up and backed toward the wall, but once he realized she didn’t have the strength to stand, he came forward again and offered to help her.
    Shaking too badly to reach up, Peyton waved him off. She doubted she could put any weight on her ankle even if she could get to her feet. “I was…” She managed to shove herself into a sitting position and almost finished with, I was sure you were going to kill me. That was all she could think, over and over, as if she’d hit her head instead of her shin when he’d dragged her from the tub. But why repeat the obvious?
    In an effort to make sure she didn’t, she closed her eyes and kept her mouth shut, too.
    “Um, don’t freak out, but…you’ve got a little cut,” he said.
    Peyton wiped the moisture from her neck and stared down at the red on her fingertips—blood. “Who are you?” she whispered. “Who are you really? ”
    He didn’t answer. He went to get a washcloth, then bent down next to her so he could press it against her injury.
    The scent of his aftershave filled her nostrils, much stronger now that he was so close. And the beauty of his eyes was even more riveting. “Why are you in Crescent City?” she asked, taking the washcloth so he could let go.
    He went into the bathroom and came out holding the letter she’d tried to retrieve.
    “If you’ve read my mail, you know.”
    Propping herself against