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"This is Jacobs." It's when he gets a response that the detective’s eyes blink and flick away, and he turns to step outside.

Maria is shaking her head, a smile on her lips. "You've got balls," she says.

"I'm an actor," I answer, letting honey coat my voice, making it thick and sweet and pretty. "I've got to have balls. And a lot more."

"You ask me, this is obvious self-defense." She says it low, like the truth might get us into trouble.

"Thank you," I say, allowing some of Stacy to slip into my voice, letting Maria know we are on the same side. I see her: we battle on the same field.

“Our photographer needs to take some pictures of you,” Maria says, her voice professional, the moment of intimacy gone.

I nod, and Maria waves the photographer over. The camera flashes; I don't meet the lens with my gaze. It cannot have me now. Take my body, take my wounds…but I will stay here at the top of my citadel. I may be covered in mud, but I am a priestess and a queen.A conqueror.

Pride flickers in my chest. I killed him. He tried to take me, and instead I took him.

I won.

Chapter Three

They don't giveme my clothing back. Instead, Maria brings me a pair of what look like doctor’s scrubs. They won’t let me take a shower, either—just escort me down the hall into the kitchen.

Nancy makes coffee before retiring to her room, and Maria pours me a cup, adding cream and sugar.

The kitchen is large but clearly built for staff—this is not the casual dining space of a warm and loving home. The only table is small and pushed into a corner, out of the way, with only two chairs.

It's Nancy's hideaway. There are gossip magazines on a shelf under where her apron hangs. A flash of Nancy sitting where I sit now, leafing through those rags as she hides from the horror of her boss's proclivities, comes to me. How many cups of tea has she drunk while a woman fought in the other room? Or just laid there…asleep…while he…

My jaw clenches as anger cuts through me.

The door swings open, and that smug detective, Jacobs, comes in with another man. Tall and broad, with dark brown skin, closely shorn hair, and a walk that oozes confidence and power, his eyes land on me.This man is a knight, perhaps even a king.

I lift my chin and release the cup warming my hands, placing them on the table.

"Hello," the knight says, offering me a smile of greeting. "May I sit?" He gestures to the chair across from me.

I nod, and he pulls it away from the table to allow room for his long legs. "My name is Temperance Johnson."

"Temperance," I roll the word around in my mouth.

He gives me a half smile. "My mother was religious."

"Do you live up to your name?"

He gives me a shrug. "I do my best."

"All any of us can do," I say, just to keep the cliché theme of the evening rolling.

"You did pretty well out there." He nods his head toward the living room…toward the dead body.

Detective Jacobs waves for Maria, who’s leaning on the counter near me, to follow him. She glances back at me, giving me a look.I'll be right outside.

I nod back.I’ve got this, but thanks.

Temperance shifts in his chair to watch them go then returns his attention to me. He is relaxed and in no rush to get to his point. I sip my coffee, letting the sweet, milky brew soothe me.

"You've had some martial arts training for your most recent role, is that right?"

"Yes."