For a second she thought she remembered it happening. In a kaleidoscope of jagged images, she recalled fragments of her abduction.

A voice behind her, whispering her name over the din of the crowd. “It’s your sister,” he’d said, his words cutting through the noise of pedestrians. “She’s hurt.”

“What?” Zoe had turned toward him, then searched the crowd. Where the hell was Chloe? Her twin had been right beside her . . . hadn’t she? Then she’d felt a sharp prickle of pain, like a wasp’s sting at first, then more intense as a needle had been plunged into her neck. In a quicksilver second she’d panicked, searched the faces of people teeming on the street, hoping to see Chloe or a cop or anyone who might think she was more than someone who’d had too much to drink. She’d stumbled and started to fall and tried to scream, but only a whimper had left her lips. On her way down, someone had caught her. The lights of New Orleans swirling, the cacophony on the street fading, she’d heard “happy birthday” whispered into her ear before she’d passed out.

Sweet Jesus, it had been this freak who had captured Chloe and her, and somehow brought them here, wherever it was. Chloe’s sobs were louder now.

He quit singing, glanced pointedly at the clock. “Shut the fuck up,” he said, his voice gravelly as he shouted away from Zoe, toward the opposite corner of the darkened room.

The sobs stopped for a second. “Let me go,” Chloe begged, her voice trembling. Zoe’s heart nearly stopped. Don’t, she thought desperately. Oh, Chloe, don’t get him mad.

Chloe didn’t get the mental message.

“I . . . I don’t know what you want or who you are, but please just let me go.”

“I said, ‘Shut the fuck up.’” This time the words were said harshly and tightly, as if his lips were clamped in rage.

Oh, God, this was no good. No good!

“But—”

“For the love of Christ!” He yanked something off the table where he worked. Zzzzt! Then a jangle. “I don’t have time for this!”

What?

Quickly he raised one hand, his shadow looming against the far wall. A snake seemed to curl and writhe from his fist as he gave it a shake.

Chloe screeched in fear.

A belt, Zoe realized.

He cracked his wrist and the leather sizzled through the air.

Chloe shrieked and Zoe had to bite back her own scream.

Stop it, Chloe. Don’t piss him off! Use your head!

“I mean it!” he roared, and snapped the belt loudly again, close, it seemed, to the spot where Chloe was most likely tethered against the far wall. Though it was too dark to see into the corners, Zoe guessed her twin was also tied up.

Bastard!