Her lids were so heavy she couldn’t make her eyes open.
What had happened to her…she…?
The man grabbing her in the darkness…trying to run…the pain shattering through her skull.
She’d gotten away from Michal’s guard.
But someone else had grabbed her.
Fear ripped through her chest.
Or maybe it was another of Michal’s men. Someone who’d been watching from a distance to make sure she didn’t run.
Carlos…or one of the others.
Now he would know.
Summoning all of her willpower, she opened her eyes.
She blinked against the dim lighting, but her eyes slowly adjusted. A rickety old fan stirred overhead. The ceiling was dingy and stained by long-term water leaks.
Not the hotel. It had been shabby, but not like this. Whoever had taken her, she wasn’t back at the hotel.
She turned her head to see more. Pain sliced through her. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth until it passed. When she opened her eyes once more she saw that a woman was sitting in a chair only a few feet away, her attention focused on the paperback book she was reading.
Confusion joined the pain swirling inside her brain as Ami studied the woman’s features. Gray hair, the soft, glistening kind, was swept up and back. She was dressed in dark slacks, maybe navy or black, and a pale blouse, white or soft blue. She definitely did not look like the type Ami had expected to find guarding her. She looked like that actress…what was her name? Katharine Hepburn. Or maybe a schoolteacher.
Recognition suddenly crashed into her like a train bursting from a dark tunnel.
The waitress.
CIA operative.
Fran Woodard.
“Welcome back,” Fran said, her gaze now focused on Ami instead of the book.
Somehow, in spite of the skull-cracking pain and drunken feeling that accompanied it, Ami sat up. Her clothes were dirty, rust was smeared down the front of her blouse from where she’d shimmied down that pipe. She looked up at the woman and the room spun wildly for about five seconds.
“You don’t have a concussion, but it’s a pretty nasty contusion. Hurts like hell, huh?”
From out of nowhere fury ignited inside Ami. What the hell was this woman doing here? Did that mean Tanner was here, as well?
Fran stood and smoothed her free hand over her slacks to straighten the wrinkles from sitting so long watching her charge. “I’ll get the boss.” She left, closing the door behind her.
Fear, stark and vivid, surged through Ami once more. What if Fran was a double agent? What if she had plans of her own for Ami? What would the Israelis pay to get their hands on her? Was there a price on her head already?
Her heart pumped so hard her chest ached, momentarily distracting her from the insistent throbbing in her brain.
She had to protect herself. Ami moved as quickly as she could, searching the meager furnishings of the room for some sort of weapon.
There was nothing.
The door suddenly opened once more.
Ami’s head came up from her futile search.
Jack Tanner stood in the doorway, glowering at her.
