Excerpt of Killing Joe by Marie Treanor

A faint movement sounded, something brushing on the floor only a foot or so away from her, with only the half-open door between them.

A mouse? A rat?

But no, you'd never hear a rat breathe! And there it was again, a faint, ragged breath, difficult, uneven, but definitely human.

Anna swallowed. She could run and phone the police. She could make a complete fool of herself. Again. Or she could think like a person of sense. It was only just past six o'clock. There could easily be workers still around--and it sounded to her as if one of them was in there. And hurt.

"Who's there?" she asked firmly, pushing open the door and reaching at once for the light switch. "Are you all right?"

The harsh light from the bare bulb bathed the cramped room in a cold, yellow glow. There was no one there, no axe murderer waiting to do her in, no typist crying over her private troubles. Only shelves full of equipment, instruments, spare computer monitors, protective clothing, helmets, the crash test dummies.

Slowly, Anna dropped her gaze to the newest, most prized dummy, which they'd left sitting on the floor, its back propped against the wall by the door.

The open, pain-wracked eyes of a man stared back at her.

It was the same face she'd imagined in the test: lean, strong, almost harsh-featured, with a straight, narrow nose, broad cheek-bones over shadowed-hollows, lips thinned now with pain. His skin was a beautiful nut-brown, warmed, clearly, by far hotter suns than ever shone over Scotland. A lock of black, straight hair fell forward over one side of his forehead; more clustered damply around his neck. Slumped against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, he shivered violently.

No wonder--he was totally naked.

Many questions clamoured in her head--like, what are you doing here, how did you get in, why did you take your clothes off and where's my crash-test-dummy?--but instinct drove her at once to her knees by his side.

"What's the matter? Where are you hurt?" she asked urgently.

He continued to stare at her, some fierce intelligence behind the clouded agony in his dark eyes. And surely…recognition.

"You," he uttered. There was disbelief in the deep, faint voice and then, astonishingly, she thought he tried to laugh. "Shit, did we take each other out in the end? This just gets better and better..."