Claimed By The Secret Agent
Germany—July 15
Marie Beauclair focused on the narrow field of vision beneath the blindfold. Not a big room, low ceiling, high, narrow window. The air was cave cold, not the result of air-conditioning. It chilled her all over.
The first thing she'd realized when she'd come to was that she was nearly naked. Her wrists and ankles were tied with cord, and she lay on a cot that smelled musty. Her next stage of awareness was absolute fury. She was mad as hell at the jerk who had done this and almost as mad at herself for letting him. How had it happened?
She couldn't remember a thing after coming home from work on Monday, changing out of her work clothes, pulling on a tank top and going to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. Nothing else, not even falling as she passed out. Drugged, of course, with something really fast acting. Then she dimly recalled someone lifting her head, urging her to drink more. How long had she been here, and how many times had she drank the stuff?
Her head wasn't clear even now, but she was conscious and thinking. Deep breathing helped shake off the lethargy. She flexed her muscles and stretched her neck as best she could to ... read full excerpt from: Claimed by the Secret Agent ebook
