“Consider it handled,” Alice said. “And there’s a package for you up front.”

Probably the psychologist reviews for the upcoming trial. She already knew what it said. “I’ll pick it up on my way back from lunch.”

Julie’s brows dipped. “Now we’re going to lunch?”

Lauren pushed to her feet and grabbed her purse with one hand, the coffee with the other. “Yes. Roger just called. Somehow, just hearing his name made me claustrophobic.”

“What did that jerk want?” She shook her head.

“Every dime my father is worth,” she said. “The same thing he always wants.”

***

A few minutes later, Lauren stepped onto the street with Julie by her side, fighting guilt over leaving the building, telling herself this was nuts. She’d had threats before. They wouldn’t go away and she just had to lift her head and carry on. In fact, she had to look unruffled or she’d look like an easy target. Royce didn’t understand that, and she had to make him.

She chatted with Julie, telling her about her morning confrontation, when an uneasy feeling rushed over her. Damn it, she liked Royce, but he really was messing with her head. Feeling a sudden need to free her hands, she paused at a trash can and tossed her untouched coffee, then slid her purse strap across her shoulder and chest.

“That coffee cost me five bucks,” Julie complained. “You didn’t touch it.”

“It had a bitter taste.”

“Oh well, then I’ll complain when we go back to your building. Now, talk, girl. Details on Royce and now. If he’s as good as he looks, oh baby, I know what kind of weekend you had.”

Lauren struggled for a reply, distracted by a sense of being watched. “He’s different than other men I’ve know.”

“Different how?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Lauren said, stepping to a curb packed with pedestrians, the proverbial sardine can of New Yorkers this busy area created.

“You know I’m not going to accept that answer.”

The light remained red but people darted across the street anyway, dodging cars. “Yes, I know,” Lauren assured her, as several people shoved her and Julie.

Julie grabbed Lauren to keep from falling. “Damn New Yorkers.”

“We’re New Yorkers,” Lauren reminded her when a sharp burning sensation on her arm had her jerking to her left, to the many bodies surrounding her. “Ouch. Oh God.” Her hand flew to the point of discomfort, pain radiating from hand to shoulder. “Damn, damn.” She grabbed Julie’s arm. “Don’t cross. I need out of this crowd.” She moved away from the curb, with Julie on her heels.

“What happened?” Julie asked urgently. “What’s wrong?

“I don’t know.” Lauren lifted her arm to show Julie, and pulled at her sleeve, trying to see the damage, and finding a large burn hole in the material.

“Holy moly,” Julie said. “Some ass**le burned you with a cigarette. I swear it looks like someone shoved it at you and held it there. Your sleeve is too poofy for it to get to your skin easily.”

“Apparently it’s not.”

“We need to get you some ice quickly. Those kinds of burns hurt like a bitch. I know. My mom smokes and I landed at the end of her cigarette more than once as a kid.”

Lauren looked down at her throbbing arm, the pain growing with each passing second. The hole in her sleeve seemed overly large, and she suddenly wasn’t so sure this was an accident or a cigarette at all. “Ice.” Lauren agreed. “Yes. I need ice.”

“Damn cigarette smokers,” Julie muttered. “Why in the hell does a person light up in a crowd like that?” She paused, her brows dipping. “You okay, sweetie? You’re really pale.”

Nodding, Lauren tried a smile but failed. “It’s easing up,” she lied. “It felt like I got stuck with a huge pin or something only the prick never stopped hurting.”

Julie pulled back the silk of her shirt. “Dang Lauren, that burn is deep. I’m not sure it was a cigarette. Let’s grab a cab and go to the ER.”

“No,” Lauren said, knowing she couldn’t miss work before her trial. “I have some Advil in my purse, and I can get some ice at the restaurant. If it still hurts after that I’ll consider it. It’s feeling better already.”

Julie didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” Only she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure at all.

***

Dirt Diver was already sitting at a corner table of Lauren’s favorite restaurant, out of her line of sight, when she and her friend walked in. Lauren was nothing, if not predictable.

He watched her slide into her booth, holding her arm where he’d taken his military issue mobile welder and scored her a new tattoo. Burned like hell, he bet. Well, that’s what the little bitch deserved. Tear her down, one piece at a time. That was Dirt Diver’s plan but it was proving so damn easy, even with her new boyfriend, that he was quickly becoming bored. He was going to fix that though. He was going to give himself a challenge and prove to her just how vulnerable she was, how much it sucked to feel like a victim that couldn’t escape her torture. Because he was that good. He could let her nestle down in the Walker Brothers’ castle, let her pull down her guard, and feel safe, and still destroy her.

It was time to turn this into a full-fledged nightmare for her.