Mob Mistress
Justin Elk squinted in the darkness, his vision blurred, his temples throbbing. Blood pumped through his veins as thick and cumbersome as liquid lead.
The last thing he remembered was stopping at a roadside diner for a cup of coffee and a club sandwich. he'd been headed to the Gulf of Mexico, to loll on the beach, to enjoy a much–needed vacation.
And then he'd awakened here.
In an unfamiliar bed, stripped down to his jeans. His shirt and boots had been removed. His silverbuckled belt was gone, too.
He shifted his weight and cursed the emasculating wooziness. he'd been drugged. He could feel the sluggish beat of his heart, the sleep–induced, head–spinning intoxication.
Someone must have spiked his coffee at the diner. Slipped him a Mickey or whatever it was called. he'd gotten groggy when he'd climbed back into his truck, but at the time he wasn't sure why. he'd been too tired to drive, so he'd sat behind the wheel, trying to combat the sudden fatigue.
Which meant what? That they'd waited for him to conk out before they'd carted him off to…
He gripped the side of the massive bed, doing his damned ... read full excerpt from Mob Mistress ebook
