Running Hot

FORTY-SIX

It was going to be a long night. Now that she was no longer worried about Luther’s safety, Grace became aware of the combined effects of the long flight from Hawaii and the adrenaline rush following the identification of La Sirène’s aura.

She started a pot of coffee in the little machine that sat on the granite counter and went into the bathroom to take a reviving shower. She was not looking forward to the drive back to L.A.

The sense of throat-tightening urgency hit her a short time later when she turned off the water. For no discernible reason, all her senses were suddenly revved sky-high. Intuition worked that way.

She grabbed the white spa robe that had been thoughtfully provided by the hotel and opened the door to the bathroom.

There was a man dressed in a tuxedo in the bedroom. He held an odd-looking box in one hand.

“My apologies, Miss Renquist,” he said. “But I really have no choice.”

“Who are you?” she managed.

“Newlin Guthrie.” He glanced at the strange device. “This is my latest invention. It’s going to be huge in the security market. Similar to a Taser except you won’t feel a thing after the first jolt. Puts you out like a light for a couple of hours but with no lasting side effects.”

She couldn’t believe it. He sounded genuinely apologetic. There was nowhere to run so she launched herself at him, hands outstretched, mouth open on a scream for help.

The twin probes of the electroshock gun struck her before she was halfway across the room. Pain scorched her nerves and her senses for what seemed like an eternity.

Then she plunged into darkness.