Her pulse accelerated as she realized what the intruder was trying to find, and her grip tightened on the handle of the heavy flashlight. No way was she letting the thief get away with it.

She needed to call the police, but her phone was upstairs, and by the time she got back up there, it might be too late.

The door stood slightly open, the soft yellow rays from the brass lamp on the desk providing enough light to see. Flattening herself against the wall, she peered into the study and spotted a figure dressed completely in black, searching the shelves in the armoire against the wall.

Her first thought was her cousin. Jude wanted the map, and he would be just stupid enough to sneak into her house to get it. But as she eased the door open wider, she realized the black-clad figure had a lean, sinewy build that was far too solid to be her pudgy gaming nerd cousin.

A trickle of fear slid through her. Abby steeled herself. Whoever it was, the thief wasn’t leaving with the map.

Easing closer, she raised the flashlight, holding it like a bat, and swung a blow that slammed into the intruder’s shoulder, knocking him sideways into the wall.

“Get out of here!” Legs splayed, she prepared to swing the flashlight again. “Get out before I call the police!”

He straightened. She could see the movement of his eyes inside the holes of his black ski mask, but instead of leaving, he charged.

Abby swung her makeshift bat again, but the man was fast, and he was strong, ripping the weapon from her hands and tossing it away, the flashlight landing with a loud clatter against the wall. She screamed as he spun her around and dragged her back against his chest. Wrapping his gloved hands around her neck, he squeezed, cutting off her air supply.

“Where is it? Tell me where it is!” He shook her hard enough to rattle her teeth, and her vision dimmed. Dragging in a breath, she clawed at the hands locked around her throat.

“Tell me!” His hold tightened, and terror struck. There was no mistaking the attacker’s intent—he wanted the map badly enough to kill her.

“It’s not . . . here.” She fought to suck in air. “Safe . . . deposit box.” It was a lie but a credible one. She had taken it from the box just that afternoon.

Her attacker swore foully but didn’t release her.

“I don’t believe you. I want that map!” He started dragging her toward the curtains, grabbed the sash to tie her up.

No way was she letting that happen! Forcing down her fear, Abby made two fists with her thumbs exposed, as she’d learned in her self-defense class, jerked up her arms, and jammed her thumbs into her attacker’s eyes. One thumb hit its mark, gouging into his eye socket, and a scream ripped from his throat.

“You bitch!”