It rang. And there was no response. She pressed the doorbell again. Still no response. And again. And again. Shit! This meant she’d have to call...the taxi back. And so soon! What a wasted journey. At least, she’d kept the card. Wendy pulled her mobile out of her handbag, a glorious Prada she’d treated herself to on a trip to Florence, and was about to stab in the taxi-driver’s number when the door opened. And there on the other side was not Woz, but a totally naked man, white this time,. During the short but wild ride, Joanna had her hands full trying to stay on the seat and away from the mad man driving the car. Her hand ached from when she had fallen and she lost a shoe in the scramble to the car. ‘Stay here, don’t move and don’t touch anything.’ It was an order, not a request, as he jumped out of the car. Joanna was tempted to just get out and run, but her instincts told her she was safer with him than on the street with those guys with guns running around. Eric pulled. More

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