Later, when he tried to unjumble the nightmare of that night in his memory, he could not for the life of him remember what he had watched on TV.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

2:06 a.m.

Aiden leaned over her, his breathing fast and excited. Revulsion added to Leah’s anxiety. She had heard him pant in the exact same manner when he climaxed. The knife pressed against her rib cage—even though she was doing exactly what he wanted her to do.

She straightened. “Done,” she whispered.

He had manipulated her as thoroughly as a man could manipulate a woman who saw what only she wanted to see, whose academic record confirmed her brilliance, whose emotional vulnerability invited control—and whose naïveté assured exploitation. She saw it with breathtaking clarity now. When it was too late.

Like most women who had been screwed over.

But she knew this: he may have won this battle, but she would win the war.

Now it was time to get out of here and end this nightmare.

She swung away from the desk. Aiden, who still peered over her shoulder, didn’t react in time. She stepped right into him.

And he backed into the side table.

The tea mug clattered onto the wooden floor.

They froze at the sound.

A light abruptly flickered through the crack of a door near the back of the house.

And Leah knew that Aiden had deceived her yet again.

The Owens weren’t away.

They had been asleep.

And now, one of them had just woken up.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

2:07 a.m.

Mel Owen’s fingers scrabbled for the light switch pinned to the side of his mattress. Damned raccoon. The random noises of its nocturnal prowling cut through his painkillers like nobody’s business. He had been jolted awake, his heart pounding, cold sweat already emitting a rank smell under his pajamas.

The rank smell of fear.

It would never leave him. It defined him, just as the wheelchair now defined him.

Goddamned raccoon.

It was time to teach it a lesson. The bucket of water sat by his patio door, ready to be dumped on the animal that had destroyed his reprieve from pain for the past three nights. He rolled to the edge of the bed and pulled himself upright.

“Mel, can I get you something?” Salma murmured, her voice thready. The question was asked out of habit. She needed more help getting up than he did.

“Just some peace and quiet. I’m gonna get rid of that raccoon once and for all.” He pushed his legs sideways, and set a sliding board on the edge of his mattress. He balanced the other end of the board on the seat of his wheelchair. With his fist planted in the mattress, he inched his hips along the board toward the wheelchair.

The sound of a body connecting with a piece of furniture made him freeze. Salma gasped. “Is that the raccoon?” she whispered.