Marissa blinked in the sudden glare. Her head was throbbing from the blow. She pushed herself up to a sitting position. She rubbed the spot where she’d been hit just over her left ear. Then she looked at her palm, half expecting to see blood. But her hand was clean. She glanced up at the man standing over her. He was a security guard dressed in a well-pressed, dark-green uniform with epaulets. Marissa saw that he was an Asian. He smiled down at her, his black eyes shining like onyx.

“Why did you hit me?” Marissa demanded. She had never expected such violence.

“Thieves!” the guard snarled in heavily accented English. His hand shot out again and slapped Marissa in the same spot he’d hit her the first time.

A burning pain went through Marissa’s face as she again fell to the carpet.

“Stop!” Wendy called as she tried to get to her feet. But the man in the gray suit kicked her feet out from under her. She fell back to the floor, knocking the wind from her lungs. Helplessly, she struggled to get a breath.

“Why are you doing this?” Marissa wailed. She pushed herself up to her hands and knees, then struggled to her feet. She was beginning to think she was dealing with two lunatics. She tried to speak again, but before she could say a word, her ketamine-inspired nightmare came back as vividly as it had at the restaurant, adding to her panic.

“Thieves!” the guard repeated. Mercilessly he stepped up to Marissa and slapped her a third time, knocking her back against the receptionist’s desk.

The desk broke Marissa’s fall. She sent a few dispensers and a metal stapler crashing to the floor.

Survival instinct told her to make a run for it, but she could hardly leave Wendy. Marissa glared at her assailant. “We’re not thieves!” she shouted. “Are you crazy?”

The guard’s smile broadened into a hideous grin, exposing decaying teeth. The next second, his expression was stern. “You call me crazy?” he snarled. He reached for his revolver.

Wide-eyed with terror, Marissa watched as the man raised the gun and aimed its barrel directly at her. She heard the horrifying mechanical click as the guard cocked the gun’s hammer back. He was going to shoot her.

“No!” Wendy shouted. She’d regained her breath and was sitting up.

Marissa couldn’t speak. She thought of uttering some plea, but the words wouldn’t come. She was paralyzed with fear. She couldn’t take her eyes away from the blank hole of the barrel as she braced for the shattering blast.

“Hold it!” a voice cried out.

Marissa winced, then opened her eyes. The gun hadn’t fired. She sucked in a lungful of air as the gun in front of her face lowered. She hadn’t even been aware she’d been holding her breath.