warehouse coming off drugs of unknown origin. If she could only figure out what they thought she knew, the last twenty-four hours would make a whole lot more sense.
But where was she?
She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the room with a calculated perusal. Expensive furniture and a view of the New York skyline greeted her. There was a pitcher of water, along with a note that said, "Drink." She couldn't help but chuckle.
Jake.
That's right. He'd swooped in last night like some kind of knight in shining armor and yanked her from the clutches of death. How clichéd was that? She shook her head.
Kinda ridiculous.
Who the heck was he, and why was he so determined to risk his neck for her? Sure, he said it was a job, even if that seemed a bit suspicious. She'd heard rumors about The Alliance but was convinced it didn't really exist. Besides, anyone could say they worked anywhere. How was she supposed to prove otherwise? The intel on the organization was locked up tight.
He did have skills. She'd give him that. She vaguely recalled him taking out the three men holding her hostage. The bullets seemed to come out of the sky at the time. If she could only remember what the men wanted from her. Why did the idea it had something to do with Afghanistan keep circling her brain? Were they CIA operatives? She couldn't guess. Contrary to common belief, she couldn't tell an agent just by looking at them. Besides, if the CIA were out to get her, she suspected they'd hire someone for the job. But hadn't he told her the CIA hired The Alliance?
Instead of thinking about her troubles right now, she forced herself into a sitting position with more effort than she cared to admit, poured water from the pitcher left by her bedside, then gulped one cup after another in rapid succession. For some odd reason—more than likely her imagination—it mitigated some of the ache invading her body.
As she eased out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom, she couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten the clothes he'd laid out for her. What she'd last had on had been bloody and tattered, as she recalled.
But there was a woman helping him. She worked on Tessa's body, taking her pulse then sticking acupuncture needles in various parts of her body. They didn't hurt. But a kind of warmth spread through her with each breath she took. It felt good. Relaxing.
She turned on the shower, letting the steam loosen up her aches and pains. Every hit of the spray seemed to bring a hint of relief. No doubt she'd stayed in there longer than she should have, but the warmth felt so wonderful against her skin. An indeterminate amount of time later, she emerged into the steamy bathroom.
She wiped off the mirror to examine her face, already knowing they'd done some damage to her last night…this morning…yesterday–whenever that happened. It was impossible to know how long she'd been out of it, as she'd lost all track of time.
"Ouch." The word slipped through her lips as she looked in the mirror. No wonder she felt like hell. She glanced at her body displayed in bright light and noted the host of bruises lining her torso, as well as her arms and legs. With a finger she traced the black and blue skin surrounding the needle hole where they'd injected her with a drug she couldn't begin to identify. There were new and improved street drugs coming out every day, each more dangerous than the one before. Who knew what they injected? She could only thank God it hadn't killed her.
Still, the sight of the bruises and swelling gave her some pause. She touched at her swollen skin, remembering now that Jake had tried to put ice packs beneath her eyes, but she kept pushing them off. While she didn't know him well, he seemed like the epitome of in charge and in control. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. The flashes of memory she had seemed to confirm that.
After drying off with a towel and brushing through her hair, she opened the package of new underwear and slipped
But where was she?
She opened her eyes slowly, taking in the room with a calculated perusal. Expensive furniture and a view of the New York skyline greeted her. There was a pitcher of water, along with a note that said, "Drink." She couldn't help but chuckle.
Jake.
That's right. He'd swooped in last night like some kind of knight in shining armor and yanked her from the clutches of death. How clichéd was that? She shook her head.
Kinda ridiculous.
Who the heck was he, and why was he so determined to risk his neck for her? Sure, he said it was a job, even if that seemed a bit suspicious. She'd heard rumors about The Alliance but was convinced it didn't really exist. Besides, anyone could say they worked anywhere. How was she supposed to prove otherwise? The intel on the organization was locked up tight.
He did have skills. She'd give him that. She vaguely recalled him taking out the three men holding her hostage. The bullets seemed to come out of the sky at the time. If she could only remember what the men wanted from her. Why did the idea it had something to do with Afghanistan keep circling her brain? Were they CIA operatives? She couldn't guess. Contrary to common belief, she couldn't tell an agent just by looking at them. Besides, if the CIA were out to get her, she suspected they'd hire someone for the job. But hadn't he told her the CIA hired The Alliance?
Instead of thinking about her troubles right now, she forced herself into a sitting position with more effort than she cared to admit, poured water from the pitcher left by her bedside, then gulped one cup after another in rapid succession. For some odd reason—more than likely her imagination—it mitigated some of the ache invading her body.
As she eased out of bed and padded to the adjoining bathroom, she couldn't help but wonder where he'd gotten the clothes he'd laid out for her. What she'd last had on had been bloody and tattered, as she recalled.
But there was a woman helping him. She worked on Tessa's body, taking her pulse then sticking acupuncture needles in various parts of her body. They didn't hurt. But a kind of warmth spread through her with each breath she took. It felt good. Relaxing.
She turned on the shower, letting the steam loosen up her aches and pains. Every hit of the spray seemed to bring a hint of relief. No doubt she'd stayed in there longer than she should have, but the warmth felt so wonderful against her skin. An indeterminate amount of time later, she emerged into the steamy bathroom.
She wiped off the mirror to examine her face, already knowing they'd done some damage to her last night…this morning…yesterday–whenever that happened. It was impossible to know how long she'd been out of it, as she'd lost all track of time.
"Ouch." The word slipped through her lips as she looked in the mirror. No wonder she felt like hell. She glanced at her body displayed in bright light and noted the host of bruises lining her torso, as well as her arms and legs. With a finger she traced the black and blue skin surrounding the needle hole where they'd injected her with a drug she couldn't begin to identify. There were new and improved street drugs coming out every day, each more dangerous than the one before. Who knew what they injected? She could only thank God it hadn't killed her.
Still, the sight of the bruises and swelling gave her some pause. She touched at her swollen skin, remembering now that Jake had tried to put ice packs beneath her eyes, but she kept pushing them off. While she didn't know him well, he seemed like the epitome of in charge and in control. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. The flashes of memory she had seemed to confirm that.
After drying off with a towel and brushing through her hair, she opened the package of new underwear and slipped
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