Inside, the smell of fresh paint assailed her as she flipped the dead bolt and reached for the light. The house was silent. Strangely silent. No hum of the refrigerator. No whisper of the air from the fans. She flipped the switch.

Nothing happened.

The entry hall light remained dark.

Scraaaape.

The sound of a shoe against the floor?

Oh, Jesus, was someone inside?

Her heart fluttered wildly with fear as she flipped several switches. No lights. She fumbled into her purse for her pistol with one hand, while the other scrabbled on the door for the dead bolt.

A hand clamped over hers.

Harsh.

Strong.

Brutal.

It crushed her fingers and she started to scream, only to have another hand cover her mouth.

Oh, God, no! She squirmed wildly. Writhed. Bit the leather covering her lips. Kicked at his legs, but his grip only tightened.

“Slow down, Karen Lee,” he said in a voice that was as seductive as it was frightening.

He knew who she was? This wasn’t random? She fought harder.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he assured her. “Nowhere you can go.”

That’s where you’re wrong, cocksucker, she thought as her fingers brushed the cool nickel of the pistol. She grabbed the gun, yanked it out of the purse, heard the bag hit the ground with a soft thud. She drew her hand up, ready to blow this jerkwad to hell when she caught a glimpse, just a hint, of the guy’s face and she nearly dropped the gun.

Red eyes glared at her, fuckin’ red eyes from deep in the folds of some black hood.

A face black as night with ghoulish features and purplish lips was inches from hers. The face of evil, she thought wildly.

Oh, God! She nearly peed.

Hot breath washed over her.

Holy shit.

She struggled. Fought. Even though she was shaking from head to foot. Fumbling with the safety, she tried to think clearly. All she had to do was swing the gun around, over her shoulder, and fire.

But from the corner of her eye, she saw the thing, this fiend from hell, draw back those awful lips and expose a nasty array of sharp white teeth.

Sweet Jesus!

She had the safety off.

Immediately, she swung her arm upward.

Teeth slashed.

Blood spurted.

Pain screamed up her arm.

She squeezed the trigger.

Blam! The gun fired.

Blasted next to her ear.

The smell of cordite filled the air.

But her attacker held on, twisting back her arm so that she was helpless, her legs no longer able to kick. Her shoulder wrenched, throbbing in pain.

Oh, dear God, she’d missed hitting him. And the pain…excruciating. Blinding. Help me, Lord, help me fight him off!

She arched her back, still fighting, still hoping for a chance to get one good kick to his shins or his damned crotch. But he was heavy and strong. All sinew and muscle and determination.