Out-Foxxed

Out-Foxxed
Debra Webb

Saving the world is all in a day's work.No one notices temps–even high-level corporate ones. It's the perfect cover for Sabrina Fox's mission of national security. No one will ever suspect that the new personal assistant is really a highly skilled agent assigned to intercept top secret codes before they reach the enemy…UNLESS THE DRAGON BLOWS HER COVER.Eric Drake, aka the Dragon, taught Sabrina everything she knew about spying, then taught her the meaning of treachery. Turns out he and Sabrina are after the same target.As ruthless operatives seek to stop her at all costs, Sabrina must decide–dare she trust Eric again, or will he betray both her heart and her country this time?

Praise for DEBRA WEBB

“Brims with tightly woven suspense around every corner, and twists and turns abound. Webb moves effortlessly between two very diverse romances and masterfully keeps the reader on the edge until the last page.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Striking Distance

“A chilling tale that will keep readers turning pages long into the night, Dying To Play is a definite keeper.”

—Romance Reviews Today

“This story opens with a bang and carries the momentum until the final, chilling end. Webb has constructed a suspenseful novel that will leave the reader spellbound.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews on Vows of Silence

“A thrilling intrigue, Past Sins is filled with interesting characters and gripping suspense.”

—Romance Reviews Today

DEBRA WEBB

Debra Webb wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romantic suspense and action-packed romantic thrillers since. Visit Debra at www.debrawebb.com.

Out-Foxxed

Debra Webb

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

According to Merriam-Webster, the first definition of unique is “being the only one.” That definition is followed by others like “being without a like or equal” and “distinctively characteristic.” In observing today’s trends, I often ask myself:

Where is the individuality? Where is the courage to reach deep within oneself and, unashamed, show the world what is discovered? I’ve recently found that hope is not all lost. This year I met a young man who embodies the term unique…who truly marches to his own beat and forges paths rather than following in anyone else’s. This book is dedicated to John Baxley. John, there really is no one else like you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER ONE

THE LULL of the subway train barreling through the tunnel had a hypnotic effect. Despite the press of bodies all around her, Sabrina Fox could almost have fallen asleep right there, standing up and squeezed into the middle of the throng of commuters. Her mind conjured the image of the rain that had forced her onto the subway tonight. Her apartment was only about twelve blocks from work, but no way would she walk in this downpour. As for hailing a cab, forget about it. Managing to snag a cab on a rainy evening at rush hour only happened in the movies.

Real New Yorkers took the train when the weather was uncooperative.

There was nothing colder than a rainy December night in Manhattan. Don’t let anybody tell you different. Those miles of asphalt and concrete that absorbed the heat and acted as an oven in the summer had the reverse effect in winter, mercilessly radiating the bitter cold. But with Friday evening commuters packed into the train as if this particular one were their last chance for weekend freedom, staying warm wasn’t a problem.

Standing room only. Lots of body heat.

Every stop was a study in warily choreographed footwork. Dozens of people off, dozens on; of course, no one who wanted off was ever the closest person to the door. Stepping on toes was as inevitable as breathing. That was the reason she carried her fashionable stilettos in her briefcase and wore her less-than-attractive sneakers for the trek home every day. She generally walked so it made sense.

She surveyed the people jammed into the subway car along with her. The usual eclectic blend of cultures, financial classes and age ranges. Fashion ranged from the mismatched castoffs of a beggar to the high style purchased on Madison or Fifth Avenue.

Diversity was one of the things Sabrina loved most about New York City, the city that never sleeps. There was no end to things to do. Even after calling the city home for almost ten years, she still stumbled upon a shop she’d never visited before or a cozy café tucked into the least likely place. This was home, more so than the Midwest town where she’d spent the first twenty-two years of her life.

The same afternoon she’d graduated from college, she’d taken the last plane out of Kansas and headed for the future. Her extensive study of foreign languages—French, German, Russian and Italian—landed her a job at the United Nations as a substitute interpreter. Any time the regular interpreters in her areas of expertise were on sick leave or on vacation, she took up the slack. The rest of the time, she provided translation services for visiting VIPs and their families. Fascinating work. She’d spent three years very happy there until an opportunity she hadn’t been able to turn down had come along. An intriguing new world had opened up, one that no one she knew now or in the past could possibly imagine.

A smile slid across her lips. She did love her work.

Beneath the bulky coat she wore, tucked into the pocket of her suit jacket, her cell phone vibrated. There had been a time when the one thing guaranteed by a ride on the subway was the lack of intrusion by one’s cell phone. Not always so anymore. With the expansion of service to the platforms and the cutting-edge technology of her special cell phone, there was no escape.

“Perfect.”

Keeping her left hand on the overhead grab bar to maintain her balance, with her right she elbowed at least two people in her attempts to unbutton her coat and reach into her jacket pocket. The train braked hard for the next stop, the flux in momentum causing the crowd to lean forward and then snap back. Despite the shift of bodies as some passengers moved toward the doors and others scooted into their vacated spots, she managed to open the phone and get it to her ear.

“Fox.”

“The henhouse is unguarded.”