Page 63 of Hidden Attraction

She ordered two drinks from him and paid with a couple coins. While she watched him pour the dark brew from a metal pot he kept over a small portable heating element on his cart, she took in her surroundings.

Pedestrians walked by. Cars zoomed down the street.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of fading sun glinting off a mirror as a vehicle careened around the corner. She looked up, eyes widening as she saw it was a van bearing down on her.

“Watch out!” she cried out to the vendor. He dropped a cup, and black coffee splashed, drawing an arc on the pavement.

Tires screeched as the driver swerved toward the sidewalk where she stood.

Suddenly, two doors flew open and men wearing masks flooded out.

Not this again.

Not another van on a different street. Not the icy dread spreading down her spine.

With a stifled cry, Alyssa backed away, turning to make a break for it at the same time, but blunt fingers dug into the flesh of her arm.

A man yanked her off her feet. Someone else grabbed her legs and rushed her toward the open door of the van.

She kicked out, foot connecting to some tough body part. Another man grabbed her by the hair, yanking her head back. Pain lanced through her scalp and he squelched any sound she might have made by stuffing a cloth in her mouth.

She thrashed, adrenaline making her wild, but there were too many of them. They were too strong.

The interior of the van wavered in front of her vision, then was abruptly cut off as someone yanked a hood over her head, cutting off the light.

She couldn’t see.

Her assailant pulled it down tighter, cutting off the air.

She couldn’t breathe.

They manhandled her into the van, pinning her to the floor between the seats with knees and elbows.

Van doors slammed, and the vehicle lurched forward in a scream of tires.

Alyssa squeezed her eyes shut tight, fighting to breathe around the cloth filling her mouth and through the airless hood. Black spots danced in her mind.

Her brain screamed for help, but there were no hands to rescue her, no armed SEALs prepared to put their lives on the line for her.

How stupid she had been, thinking it was safe to run out for coffee. All this time, these men were just waiting for her to venture out alone.

And she played right into their plan, into their hands.

She squeezed her eyes tighter against the darkness of the hood. She couldn’t panic. Panic would get her killed.

She threw out her senses. The hood cut off much of the noise and all of the smells. But she sensed they were traveling fast in a straight line, buzzing through the city, leaving behind the safehouse and her unsuspecting partner who would wake and find her gone without a trace.

Fury aimed at herself brought a sharp sting of tears to her eyes. She forced them away. Tears were the last thing she needed right now. She had to think.

Her mind reached for Julian, but he wasn’t coming to save her. No one was.

She was on her own.

She could feel every turn, every pothole jarring her. The brakes shrieked several times as they almost collided with something, and she smacked against the seat in front of her, bruising her side and ribs before the driver stomped the gas again, punching the breath out of her lungs when she banged into the seat behind her.

The memory of that day Julian kept her from being snatched exactly like this filled her with fear. Whoever was behind that attack couldn’t possibly be connected to this one, could they?

Nobody knew she was in Syria. Blackout had seen to it.

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