It must have been one hell of a night for Victor Carl . . . Too bad he can't remember any of it.

All the Philadelphia attorney knows is that he woke up in the entranceway of his apartment building with his suit in tatters, his socks missing, and a tattoo on his chest that wasn't there the day before: a heart inscribed with the name Chantal Adair.

Who is Chantal Adair—a drunken folly or the love of Victor Carl's life? He doesn't know but he intends to find out. As soon as he takes care of his new client, a thief on the run from the law, who wants to make a deal . . . and has a stolen Rembrandt to use as leverage.

But the fine art and the skin art may be more closely linked than Victor realizes. And the closer he comes to making a connection, the closer he comes to being marked, not with a heart, but with a bull's-eye.