Page 7 of Taken With Trouble

I’m… in a coffin!AmI dead?

“Hello, Cruz.” A face appears in the crack above me. A face I would like to punch. “I must say, you make death look beautiful.”

“Liam!” I push up my heavy body, pure fire in my veins, all intent on scorching this man. “What in the he—”

“Oh shhh.” His hand covers my mouth. “Not yet, love. We haven’t landed yet. And no offense, but it looks weird for me to be talking to my dead wife in the cargo hold. There’s only one other guy here, but I think he’s on to me. I’ll have to pay him off.”

Dead wife? Cargo hold? What kind of nonsense is he spouting?

His hand must have weird special powers; because try as I might, I can’t fight him off. My body seems to get heavier and, honestly, I could go for another hour of sleep.

Blackness engulfs me.

Again.

I wake up and, like a gun click, my mind snaps into place. I’m in a coffin, and I’m going to put Liam in it instead.

Murder weapon? My hands.

I shove at the coffin, but my arms only fly upward, hitting nothing. They drop like lead weights beside me, my heart still beating fast as I feel out the location of my captivity.

I’m in a bed. A very soft one. In a room I’ve never seen before. Floor length curtains cover the windows, a fraction of light glowing around the edges. There’s a desk and a dresser in front of me, and to the left are two closed doors. A bathroom and a closet? A space heater purrs on the floor beside the bed.

Where am I? Andhowdid I get here?

My skin grows cold, despite the warmth in the room.

Liam.

That good-for-nothing, terrible man drugged me.

I will murder him if it’s the last thing I do. I shove the covers off and drop my feet to the floor. Cold wood meets my bare toes. Where did my shoes go? I did not approve of this.

I pat my pockets to confirm my fears. My phone is gone. So is my gun I affectionately named Hank. And, no… mybadge. My head spins and the room tips on its side.

Not my badge.

I scour the dim room in search of that little leather rectangle. My heart drops with each passing second. I’m not safe without my badge.

I pinch my eyes closed. Clearly, I’m not safe at all. But I can fix this.

First, I need to figure out where in the actual heck I am. Liam couldn’t have taken me far. I was in a freaking coffin. Unless I dreamed that part. It’s all fuzzy right now.

I move toward the window and slip my hand between the folds in the curtain, parting it slightly. Billions of twinkling lights dance around below me. I’m at least sixteen floors up in… Paris?

No no no no. This cannot be happening. I amnotin Paris. That isnotthe Eiffel Tower. It’s Vegas; it has to be. I close my eyes, then open them again and part the curtains. But there’s no stratosphere, no Bellagio, just the real-life Eiffel Tower.

I was in Phoenix. Now I’m in Paris. My head is swimming, and I feel nauseous.

I’m too close to the man I never wanted to see again, the man who—

A tremor runs through my fingers and I drop the curtains, hiding the Eiffel Tower from my view.

I’m going to find Liam, then kill him. If he’s even the one who has me.

I shudder at that thought, refusing to give my fear an advantage. It’s just Liam. Only Liam. And I can handle him. My track record may be less-than-impressive where he’s concerned, but he’s officially awoken the beast.

Mission: Drag-Liam’s-butt-to-jail-and-get-home-as-soon-as-possible is a go.