Their story picks up in Blowback, the first book in the Black Cipher Files Romantic Suspense series....
Blowback (bloʹ bak) n. A deadly, unintended consequence of a covert operation.
Eerie blue light penetrated my consciousness first. The regulated thump-thump of tires pounded in my head, echoing with fierce resonance.
Where the hell was I? Why did I feel like this? I kept my eyes closed, knowing pretense was paramount to my survival. Wherever I was, it wasn’t normal.
Ha. My life would never be normal.
I tracked back to my last memory. I’d hooked up with a guy. Had relatively indiscriminate sex with him.
I inhaled shallowly, carefully, not wanting to give away anything. I still smelled like sex. Really great sex.
I wanted to smile but kept my expression lax.
I’d longed to stay in that bed. Sleep with him. Just sleep with the comforting warmth of another human being. The ache had been so intense that as soon as he dozed off--I left.
That was my last memory.
“You can stop pretending.”
I continued to fake sleep. I didn’t know that male voice. It was bland, not angry, but with a slight smirk, as if he knew something I didn’t.
“You should be awake by now. We calibrate our doses very carefully.”
That statement raised so many questions, I decided to comply with his unspoken request and let my eyes drift open. I calculated we were moving at a speed of about thirty miles per hour. Suburban, blacked out windows, bulletproof glass. The blue light came from the interior dome in the big SUV.
“The light is to protect your eyes. The drug affects your pupil’s ability to dilate and contract.”
What drug? I kept silent.
“Not very curious, are you?”
My last conscious memory was from the motel off of 295 near Alexandria around nine in the evening. It was pitch dark out now, so I’d been out for awhile.
Lucas. Could the guy have been a plant? Possible. Since he was my last clear memory, it made sense.
I sifted through the spaghetti of my brain. For the past two days, I’d been undercover, shadowing Staci Grant’s life. Last night, I’d encountered Lucas Goodman, who’d been looking for Staci and thought he’d found her when he found me. The sexual heat between us had been instantaneous and mutual. A few sweaty hours later, I’d left, confident my movements as Staci had been tracked. My cover had been working.
They’d kidnapped Staci.
Excellent.
I was right where I needed to be.