"Yes." She'd be able to think if he turned the music off. She'd know

what to do.

"All right, then." He took a step toward the recorder, then stopped.

"No, I think we'll leave it on. You have to learn to face things, Emma.

I've told you that before, haven't I?"

Her teeth had begun to chatter. "I am facing them."

"Good. That's good. Now, the first thing you're going to do is call

that fancy lawyer of yours and tell him you've changed your mind."

"No." Fear was storming through her system so that she could only

whisper. "I'm not going back with you."

"Of course you are. You belong with me. You've had your little snit,

Emma, don't make it harder on yourself." When she shook her head, he let

out a long, gusty sigh. Then his hand snaked out, quick as a whip, and

smashed across her face. Blood filled her mouth as she slammed into a

table, sending a lamp crashing to the floor.

Through a haze of pain she saw him coming toward her. And she began to

scream. He kicked her full in the stomach, cutting off the screams and

her air. When she tried to curl up, he began to hit her, slowly,

methodically.

This time, she fought back. Her first blow glanced off his chin, but

surprised him enough to give her time to crawl away. She heard pounding

on the door, a demand to open it. She managed to struggle

to her feet and take a watery step toward the sound, when he caught her

again.

"So you want to play rough, Emma?" He began to tear at her clothes,

raking his nails down her skin. Her struggles only drove him on. She

would be punished this time, in a way she would never forget.

Emma heard someone pleading, begging, promising. She wasn't aware it

was her own voice. She hardly felt the blows as he continued to beat

her. This time he used his fists, forgetting everything but the need to

pay her back.

"Did you think you could walk out on me, b.i.t.c.h? Did you think I'd let

you ruin everything I worked for? I'll kill you first."

Her body was a jelly of pain. Even the effort to breathe cut through

her like dozens of dull-edged knives. It had never been this bad

before. Even at its worst, it had never been this bad. Groggy, she

grabbed a chair leg and tried to haul herself up. Wet with her own

blood, her fingers slipped off.

She stopped fighting. There was no strength left to hold him off. She

felt him lift her, then send her flying. Something snapped in her chest

and she screamed again against the sickening pain. Half conscious, she

lay sprawled.

"b.i.t.c.h. Wh.o.r.e b.i.t.c.h." He was panting as he started for her again. Dimly

she saw that blood was running from his nose. His eyes were glazed and

wild. She knew, looking at his face, that he had crossed some line.

This time a beating wouldn't be enough. He would pound on her until she

was dead. Weeping, she tried to crawl.

The snap of his belt made her flinch. Her sobs rose up into walls as

she pulled herself across the rug. He continued to snap the belt, snap

it to the beat of the music as he stalked her. She collapsed. The jolt