A sound knifed through his thoughts, halting him suddenly. Not from inside the Boyd suite, but not far away. Muffled by a thick door. A woman’s scream.

Novak sprinted down the corridor, halting in front of 516. One hand fingered the master key in his pocket as he pressed an ear against the door panel. From inside, a man’s voice snarling indistinguishable words, a woman whimpering. Then the hard crack of flesh on flesh.

Novak thumbed the door button and his hands folded into fists.

The door opened. A man peered out. “Yeah?” he bristled. “Beat it.”

He made an effort to slam the door but Novak’s foot blocked it. Leaning forward, Novak heaved his shoulder and the door burst inward. The man staggered back cursing.

“I’m Novak. Hotel Security. Where’s the woman?”

To see her, all he had to do was glance sideways and down. Her back was braced against the edge of a chair, her legs folded under her thighs. She wore a filmy white dressing gown, one sleeve ripped. Her cheeks showed ugly patches of red, the rest of her face was bloodless. She must have been in the shower when the guy came in because the dressing gown was all she wore. The legs were nicely muscled and they melted into slim thighs. Her stomach was taut and she had never been a nursing mother.

The man dropped his head and lunged...