Page 87 of Paranoid

That was it.

She was out of here.

Now!

Even if he was here, trying to scare her, she was over it. Their romantic trysts had been sexy and wanton, wild and dangerous, but this, being scared out of her mind like this? When someone she knew had just been murdered?

Nope.

She’d been an idiot to agree to it.

Walking quickly, she made her way to the door she’d used to enter the area, grabbed the big handle, and tugged.

The door didn’t budge.

What?

But she’d just unlocked it....

She pulled again.

Nothing.

Crap!

If he was out here and this was supposed to be some kind of a joke, she’d kill him. She decided to tell him so. “If you think this is turning me on with all this cloak and dagger stuff, you’re wrong.”

No response.

Fear skittered up her spine.

Did something move over by the chapel door, in the alcove of the doorway? Her heart clamored.

She fumbled with her keys, forced the right one into the door. The lock clicked open.

Thank God!

Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump!

Faster and faster.

The sound of bats flying, whirring overhead?

No!

Footsteps, running. Gaining speed. Toward her. She pulled the door open, and—

Bam! A big gloved hand shoved it closed.

The razor-sharp edge of the door scraped her finger, digging into her flesh. “Ow! Shit!”

“Nuh-uh-uh,” a voice growled at her ear, warm and heavy and not the one she’d expected.

A new fear slithered through her.

Who was this guy?

He pressed his body against hers. She felt him hard against her back. Felt his damned erection pressing into her buttocks through her clothes, gloved hands tangling in her hair, tightening.