Lisa Childs - Agent Undercover

Then she remembered the heels she’d been wearing; he would have caught her and easily once she had twisted her ankle. She wiggled her toes, grateful that her shoes were gone. Maybe she could run now.

“Why?” she asked, her fears growing even more. “Why would you bring me here?”

“This is your room,” he repeated. “The one you rented at the hotel.”

“Oh...” She had rented a room. But she had changed her mind about using it. Obviously he’d had other plans.

“Why did you drug me?” she asked, although she was afraid that she knew the answer.

Was he the kind of man who didn’t take rejection well? With the way he looked, he probably wasn’t often rejected. Did he intend to take what she hadn’t been willing to offer him?

“I didn’t drug you,” he said.

“Someone grabbed me in the parking lot,” she said, “and put something over my mouth and nose...”

“Chloroform,” he replied again so matter-of-factly.

“So you admit to using it on me?” she asked, and anger joined her fear. And again she was grateful her hands weren’t bound because she would fight him. She would hurt him as badly as he intended to hurt her.

“No,” he said. “I recognized the smell. That’s why I brought you back to your room, so you could regain consciousness.”

“What do you intend to do to me?” she asked, her heart continuing to pound wildly with fear.

He sighed and pushed a hand through his dark hair. “I wish I knew...”

“Then why did you grab me?” If he had no plan...

“I only grabbed you after your abductor had been shot,” he said, as if his crazy explanation made perfect sense.

“Abductor?” So now he was trying to place the blame on someone else.

He nodded. “I don’t know who the man was.”

“Was?”

He nodded again but grimly this time, his strong-looking jaw clenched. “He’s gone.”

“Dead?” Her voice squeaked with the question. “You killed him?” Maybe there had really been another man...before he’d died.

“No,” he said. “Another agent shot him...before he could shoot me.”

“And then you brought me back here,” she said, as if she was following his preposterous story. The man was obviously deranged. No wonder he’d followed her out of the hotel and tried to grab her.

And she had thought getting to know someone in person first would be safer than dating someone she’d only met online. Maybe dating at all was a bad idea. But how else was she ever going to meet someone who could share her life—her hopes, her dreams?

Somehow she suspected that having a relationship wasn’t going to be an issue for her anymore—unless she could somehow overpower this muscular man and escape him. She tried to peer around him to determine how far away the door was.

Or maybe she could yell...

Weren’t hotel room walls notoriously thin?

She opened her mouth to scream, but his palm slid across her lips, silencing her. And he joined her on the bed, his thigh hard and warm against her hip. She tried to struggle, but he easily held her down—pushing her into the mattress. And she noticed that his sweater had ridden up, revealing a holster and a gun. He was armed.

Tears stung her eyes as fear overwhelmed her. What was he going to do to her?

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, almost as if he regretted that he wasn’t. “I’ve been watching you...”

So she hadn’t been paranoid.

“I’m trying to stop you from doing something that’s going to put your life and the country in danger,” he said. “But obviously I’m too late. You’re already in danger.”

She had realized that back in the parking lot. She’d been scared then. She was terrified now.

“Have you put the country in danger, too?” he asked.

She moved her lips against his palm, as if she was trying to answer his question. As if she could actually answer something so absurd...

She only wanted him to move his hand so that she could scream. If he didn’t want her making any noise, he wouldn’t risk shooting her. Would he?

If she screamed, hopefully someone would hear her and come to her aid. It was her only chance to escape this man and his madness.

But he didn’t move his hand. In fact, it covered her entire face, his fingers covering one ear and his thumb the other. She could still hear him, though—still hear his ridiculous questions.

“Did you already endanger national security?” he asked.

“How?” she murmured the word against his palm.

Who did he think she was? He must have mistaken her for someone else. Maybe it was dawning on him because he stared down at her through narrowed eyes as if determining if he should trust her. He moved his palm slightly.

She could have screamed. But he could still shoot her before help arrived. And then he could shoot whoever might have been chivalrous enough to help her. So she spoke quietly instead. “Who do you think I am?”

His mouth curved into a slight smile. “You’re Claire Molenski.”

Her pulse quickened before she reminded herself that she had given him her first name. And he’d had time while she was unconscious to go through her purse and find her license. Oh, God, if he had seen her license, he also knew where she lived. He could have taken her keys, too, for her car and her house.

But why?

“Who are you?” she asked.

During their speed dating round, he had only given her his first name but that might have been as made up as his other wild stories.

“Ash,” he said. “Special Agent Ash Stryker.”

That name definitely sounded made up to her. But then he tugged on the chain that disappeared beneath the neck of his black sweater and pulled out a big shield. She had seen enough of those the past several years that she realized the shield was real.

And so was Special Agent Ash Stryker.

Dread overwhelmed her and she groaned. “No...”

Triumph flashed in his light blue eyes. “You didn’t think we would trace the online auction back to you?”

“Online auction?” He might have been telling the truth about who he was and what had happened, but none of it made any sense to her. All she understood was that somehow her life was turning upside down—again. And she didn’t know how to turn it right side up. “What do you think I’m selling?”

He just stared at her, obviously convinced that she knew, so that he wasn’t even going to bother to answer.

Annoyance flashed through her. She had been too young before to fight for herself. She wasn’t going to go down this time without a fight.

“Do you think I’m selling my body?” she asked.

His lips quirked again, as if he was tempted to grin. “That might explain the speed dating and the hotel room...”

He flicked his gaze down her short, tight dress, as if he were actually considering buying. And heat flashed through her now, making her skin tingle with excitement. But then she reminded herself that he was an FBI agent, and a cold chill chased away the heat.

“But an FBI agent,” she said, “ especially an FBI special agent wouldn’t waste his time investigating something that a vice cop would handle.”

He arched a dark brow and asked, “Do you know much about Vice?”

“No.” She sighed. “But I do know about the Federal Bureau of Investigations.”

He didn’t ask why; he would have read her file. The FBI probably had a volume on her by now.

“So, Special Agent Ash Stryker,” she addressed him. “How are you going to ruin my life this time?”

Chapter Three

The woman was trouble. Ash had known that before he’d even met her. But she was even more dangerous in person than he had expected her to be.

Because he hadn’t expected his reaction to her—his very physical, very male reaction to her beauty. Her skin was porcelain—all pale and smooth—and too much of it showed beneath the short skirt of her tight red dress. Damn, she was sexy. She knew it, too, and was using it to her advantage with that flirtatious comment about selling her body.