Her father's city.

The open door of a bakery drew her inside. A single look at the croissants and baguettes made her realize she was starving to death. Euros were exchanged-too many, she was positive-but the first taste was better than sin. and well worth whatever the baker had cheated her out of. The pastry was buttery, light, a puff of sweetness on her tongue.

Juggling the pastry and the coffee and her bag, she stepped back into the throng of pedestrians… when a stranger suddenly grabbed her arm.

Initially Kelly reacted with more exasperation than fear.

When the mugger tugged, she tugged back. And no, tangling with a thief wasn't the wisest thing Kelly Nicole Rochard had ever done-particularly when the jerk was a good half foot taller than her five feet five inches and easily outweighed her by fifty pounds. But. as her mother had noted during labor. Kelly was as naturally stubborn as a goat.

Her roll went flying. Coffee splattered everywhere. She was so busy struggling just to keep her balance-and free herself-that she didn't originally realize why the mugger was yanking so hard on her arm. But then she did. Fast. Her engagement ringdid tend to glitter in the sun, which was probably what caught the jerk's attention. He yanked on her finger so hard she almost cried, but that was just pain.

When he managed to wrestle off the ring. Kelly let out a war cry worthy of a marine. "You give that back, you rotten son of a flea-bitten scumbag!"

She couldn't finish because the mugger suddenly jerked her around and yanked her tight against his chest. Her courage suffered an instant and complete crash. She forgot the ring. Forgot the dazzling day and the wonder of Paris.

When the bony arm cut off her windpipe, she forgot just about everything.

Faces and storefronts blurred. Sounds muted to a distant cacophony. She'd never tasted fear this acid, this consuming. Her entire consciousness was zoned in on her thief. The man wasn't huge, but he was still a ton bigger than she was, and he stank of drugs and desperation. His breath blew fetid on her neck, his body reeking of old sweat. He hissed something to her in French.