He let go of her arm and she tried to recover. The guy was a little freaky . . . quick to ignite. Best to do him and get it over with; escort him out the door and turn the lock behind him. She didn’t like the edgy ones, but she needed the money.

“How ’bout we start here?” she suggested, and slid her fingers down the waistband of his pants.

“How ’bout?” he agreed, and lifted one hand to tangle his fingers in her hair.

She slipped the button out of its hole, then slid his zipper down slowly and noticed that he wasn’t even starting to get hard, no evidence of any erection whatsoever. Damn, this was going to take more work than she’d planned. Big, healthy man, in the prime of his life, and not turned on by her?

Her fingers touched his skin and he flinched, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a chain.

She paused.

What the hell?

No, not a chain, a necklace.

Really? Some kind of kinky thing?

No, not a necklace. A rosary! Oh, God, was he some kind of religious nut, here to try and save her or himself?

“Hey, what’s up?” she asked, trying not to frown as she looked up and saw that his jaw had hardened. “What’s going on with—”

He struck quickly, looping the rosary over her head and neck.

“Hey! Wait!” she yelled as the linked beads tightened. She tried to scream, but the air was caught in her lungs. What the fuck was he doing? Trying to scare her? Asphyxiate her?

Tighter and tighter, the holy noose was twisted, closing her throat, her airways, her lifeline.

This was no sex game. No way! She started hitting at him. Kicking. Her lungs were burning. Her eyes felt as if they were beginning to bulge.

No, please God, no!

No amount of kicking could stop him, and her arms flailed uselessly. She grabbed at the links of beads, hoping to get her fingers beneath the string, hoping to break the damned thing, but she couldn’t get a grip on it. The beads were sharp, the wire holding it together strong.

He lifted the chord and raised her off the floor. The world started to spin as she struggled, her legs kicking wildly, her lungs ready to explode. She couldn’t die . . . she wouldn’t die. Not like this. Not without seeing her son . . .

With a grunt he jerked hard.

Her head snapped back, and she caught a glimpse of her distorted image in his dark glasses.

Then nothing.