Claimed by the Secret Agent

“Drugged me,” she explained defensively as she tucked the blanket snugly around her like a sarong. “He’s the Embassy Kidnapper, right?”

“The M.O. sure fits. The car’s half a block down. Can you walk?” He held out a hand to assist, but she avoided it.

“I can run if I have to. I just did.”

“Good for you. Let me check the street first. Watch the alley behind us.”

Dawn had broken now. The street was deserted except for the two of them hurriedly making their way to his vehicle.

As soon as she was inside, Marie leaned her head back on the headrest and released a heavy sigh of relief.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. “You okay?” he asked, real concern in his voice. “He didn’t—”

Marie interrupted the question and met his worried gaze dead on. “I heard him talking in the next room when I woke up. He’s not working this alone.”

“I didn’t see him leave, but there’s a door at the front of the building, too.”

He started the car, and soon they were bumping down a narrow street. The ancient structures that abutted it were shuttered and looked abandoned. She fiddled with the seat belt and finally got it fastened. “Where are we and what time is it?”

“A little village, Bad Nutzbach or something. It’s barely 5:00 a.m. and it’s Sunday, in case you don’t know.”

“Thanks. Now who the hell are you, and where are we going?”

He made a right turn and sped up. “Grant Tyndal. I’m with COMPASS. You familiar with it?”

She nodded but didn’t elaborate. So the Company hadn’t seen fit to come after her. She hadn’t expected her family to do anything to help her, even if they had been rolling in money, but she had thought the CIA might. Instead this guy shows up from the antiterrorist team that had recently offered her a position. “Am I supposed to feel obligated now to accept the job offer?”

He glanced at her and smiled. “Of course. This is how we always recruit. As to your other question, we’re going to the hospital in Landstuhl and get you checked out. You’ll be flying stateside before you know it.”

“I’m not leaving until I catch him.”

Tyndal’s laugh annoyed her. “Don’t think so. I work alone.” His words annoyed her even more.

“Go to work, then. Just don’t get in my way.”

“Not exactly dressed for action, are you?” He had them flying down the autobahn by this time, doing at least ninety.

Marie pulled the blanket closer around her neck. She reluctantly admitted to herself that she needed his help. He wouldn’t take her to her apartment. That was probably a designated crime scene by now.

She didn’t have her creds or her weapon or any pockets to put them in. He could get all that for her if she played her cards right. And he surely had more information on the abductions than she could get on her own. She’d have to make it worth his while to partner up on this.

“Tell you what,” she said, abandoning her defensive attitude for a conciliatory tone. “I can pull my weight. Let me in on this, and maybe I’ll come on board with COMPASS when we’re done. I have information you can use. Get me something to wear, a gun and I.D., and let’s go after him together. Now.”

She wasn’t above using coercion. She put a tentative hand on his arm and squeezed. “Please?”

He glanced at her hand and then at her smile. But he didn’t look as if he’d give an inch. “You’re going to the hospital, Beauclair. You need an exam, a drug test and a rape kit.”

Yes, well, there was that. She had bruises in all the right places, and that made her even madder. That bastard had raped the victim he’d killed. Not the others, though. If the reports could be believed.

She didn’t think she’d been raped, but the fact that she’d been drugged, manhandled and made helpless was reason enough to want her kidnapper’s head on a plate. Right along with whoever was giving him orders. She quickly dismissed that line of thinking so she wouldn’t give herself away to Tyndal.

“After the exam?” she asked.

“I’ll officially debrief you and call in the results. Then you go home. To the States. You’re from Atlanta?”

She ignored the query. Since he’d been sent after her, he’d know that. “Look, I’m okay and perfectly capable of helping you catch this guy. I’ve actually seen him, and I know his voice. Will you at least consider it? Maybe request my help officially?” she asked, trying to suppress her anger and sound sweet. “Because if you don’t, I might not have anything else to say to you.”

“Obstruction of justice. Familiar with that phrase? It can send you to jail,” he warned. Then her earlier statement seemed to register. “You can identify him?”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll get an artist to work with you, but that’s as far as you can go on this.”

Marie retreated, but she didn’t surrender. She never surrendered. There was always a way. She’d simply take another tack. “How far are we from Landstuhl?”

“About thirty miles.”

She could see pretty well now even though it was going to be a gray day and would probably rain soon. “Take me to the nearest krankenhaus instead. My feet are bleeding and I’m dehydrated.”

Stealing a vehicle might be necessary to get away from him, and that would be easier in a small hospital not peopled with soldiers.

He immediately moved to the far right lane and took the next exit. For a few minutes she thought she was getting her way, but he pulled off on a side road and stopped the car.

She watched him reach into the backseat and retrieve a gray plastic box. “First-aid kit. Brought it in case we needed it when I found you.”

He pushed his seat back all the way and then unhooked his seat belt and hers. “Turn sideways and put your feet in my lap.”

“No!”

“I’m a qualified medic. Worst foot, please.”

Marie’s muscles were almost too tense to move, but she managed to turn. He helped her lift her legs and took her left foot in both his hands. She barely managed not to jerk it out of his grasp.

His glance raked her thighs before she could cover them with the blanket. Was it prurient, or was he checking for damage? Hard to tell. He didn’t look all that salacious, but the old paranoia had kicked in.

“There’s no telling what you stepped on in that alley,” said, his tone gentle, almost a drawl.

She noticed his accent for the first time. It was faint but still there. Probably hadn’t registered before because it was so close to her own. “You’re from the South. Where?”

“Alabama. Anniston, originally. Army brat, though, so I lived all over the place.” His hands were gentle as he continued examining her feet. “We’d better get these cuts cleaned up a little and wrapped before we go any farther. Uh-huh, that one might need a few stitches. Don’t want a nasty infection.”

He opened his door and slid out from under her feet. A moment later he returned with two bottles of water, one of which he handed her to drink. Setting the other on the ground, he then ripped the plastic off a roll of paper towels.

“Hand me the kit and get as comfortable as you can. I expect this will hurt a little bit,” he warned.

Marie remembered she should sip the water slowly. She shuddered in spite of herself when he uncapped the other bottle of water to pour over her feet.

She sipped again, feeling the coolness slide all the way down to her empty stomach. “Consider it payback…since I hurt you.” She slid down farther in the seat so that her feet were sticking outside the car on his side. “Go ahead.”