Did he intend to kill her now, this instant? Or had she a moment or two to try to save herself? Recalling Leonardo’s dictum, she did not struggle, for that would only tighten the trap about her, and perhaps even spring it. "It's very well Mr. Mike was draped over the laminate kitchen counter, on the phone as usual. "Put it under my pillow," he said. A familiar ache of wanting made itself more insistent in her belly. “This is a very foolish sort of entertainment. What will you give me to save you from your pursuers?" "Can you do so?" asked the other, doubtfully.
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