“I’m on it,” Lann said.
“The locals are going to go ape shit,” Maya said. “What are we going to tell the press? If this comes out, our operation is compromised. Can we cover it up?”
“I’ll handle the media,” Joss said. “Can you keep your asses clear until we have a new safe house?”
Maya snorted. “I should kick your ass just for asking that. What about her?”
“I’m taking her someplace secure until it’s safe to move.”
Maya stepped on the brake where the road split to Carnac. Clelia looked out of the darkened windows of the vehicle to get a sense of where they were heading. She needed to come up with a plan of escape, but her brain refused to function. She was still shaking in the aftermath of the attack.
“You know what to do, Joss,” Maya said.
From the way they all stared at her, Clelia got the uneasy impression that Maya was talking about her.
“I’m not pulling a bag over her head,” Joss said.
“It may be your territory, but your behavior with the China doll is questionable, not to mention she’s going to get us killed,” Maya said.
“Japanese,” Joss said with emphasis. “And another word from you and you’re back in the office doing admin. Permanently. Am I clear?”
Maya pursed her lips. “Like crystal.”
“Take this,” Lann said, holding a hypodermic needle in the palm of his hand.
Clelia battled to follow the conversation. Her mind was slow to decipher words and sentences, but when Joss took the needle and pinned her into the corner with his weight, she understood. Whatever was in the needle was meant for her. Fear made her break out in cold sweat.
“No,” she said through dry lips. “Don’t do this. Please.”
“I’m sorry,” Joss said, regret reflecting in his cold eyes as he pushed the needle into her arm.
Dizziness came fast, surprisingly so. Her vision blurred. She wanted to fight, but her mind lost whatever little control it still had over her body. The last thing she remembered, was Joss’s thumb brushing over her palm.Chapter 7Clelia slowly came to her senses. Her body ached and her mouth was so dry she battled to swallow. She felt nauseous and disorientated. Had she been sleepwalking again?
She tried to move, but couldn’t. Like her legs and arms, her eyelids were stuck. Oh, God. Was she paralyzed? Or worse, buried alive? Sickness pushed up in her throat. She couldn’t breathe. She was suffocating.
“Help.”
The word had come out as nothing but a croak. Had they left her for dead?
A breath fanned over her face. “Open your eyes, Cle.”
The command was both reassuring and threatening. She wanted to obey it and was afraid to at the same time.
Warm hands rubbed over her arms, inviting goosebumps. “You’re safe.”
She pulled back into herself, instinctively escaping, but the hands wouldn’t let her go.
“Come on, witch. Open your eyes.”
The order was seductive, coaxing her into compliance. An inexplicable impulse made her want to please that voice. The heavy layer of soil that had seemed to trap her lifted a little, and she managed to peel her eyelids open. Oh, thank God. She wasn’t in a coffin or underground. She was lying under soft blankets on a bed with her arms on top of the covers. The strong hands were still rubbing them, aiding her circulation and providing heat.
Air filled her lungs. She dragged it in greedily. She almost cried with relief when her eyes started to focus. It was dark, but not so much she couldn’t make out Joss’s face. He crouched beside her, his big body hovering over hers. Splinters of memories from the ancient site flashed through her mind, their bodies connected in a craze of lust, and then she remembered the shootout and the needle he’d stuck into her arm.
She shot upright, flinching as a headache threatened to split her skull. “Where am I?”
“Easy.” Joss helped her to lean her back against the headboard. “Someplace safe.” He took a glass from the nightstand and folded her hand around it.
She brought it to her nose and sniffed.
“It’s only water,” he said.
She shouldn’t trust him. Look where it had gotten her. She should’ve known better. But she was so damn thirsty. Even if the water was drugged, she couldn’t resist. She drank until the glass was empty, making embarrassing gulping sounds. He refilled the glass from a decanter and held it out with two pills on his palm.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Aspirin. You should have a headache from the drug. It’s the dehydration.”
Desperate to still the pounding in her head, she took the pills and swallowed them with the water.
“Better?” he asked, wrestling with a smile.
She gave him a cutting look. “What do you think?”
The smile won. The bastard found her passive-aggressive rebellion amusing.
“The tranquilizer was too strong,” he said. “As it wasn’t planned, I couldn’t adjust the dose for your body weight. I didn’t inject all of it, but it still knocked you out good. You’ll feel better in a while.”