Before she could reply, pain exploded in her left ear. Her vision closed down to a pinpoint of light, then nothing at all.

Lynda’s head pounded. Nausea rolled in her stomach. Why did she feel so terrible? She tried to roll over, to get more comfortable, but couldn’t move her arms. What in the world? Some of the fog lifted, and she realized she wasn’t in her bed. Instead, she sat on a hard chair.

In little flashes, she started to remember. Driving up to the house. Asking the man who answered the door about Damien Cisco. The flash of pain. Then . . . nothing. Her heart beat faster. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. With a rush of adrenaline, she pushed the grogginess to the background and every sense heightened. What to do now?

She kept her eyes closed and tried to assess anything that she could in her environment. The smell of damp earth in the cold air assaulted her nostrils. Something sharp and unyielding cut into the delicate skin of her wrists, keeping her hands clasped behind her. Maybe a zip tie? Her shoulders ached from the position of her arms. Shuffling noises came from her left, the click of a switch a split second before a flood of heat. Behind her eyelids, she could see a bright light.

Footsteps. Low voices coming from her right.

Movement behind her, against her.

Her arms were tied to someone else. Jack? It must be Jack. Relief almost made her cry out. She wasn’t alone. Praying desperately for courage and wisdom, she tried to listen to the low voices, tried to make out words. Jack started struggling, making her bindings dig deeper into her wrists. She fought back the discomfort and worked against the tight restraints to turn her hand, pressing her palm against his. He stilled at her touch.

Digging into her reserves for courage she didn’t know for certain she possessed, she finally lifted her head and opened her eyes. It looked like they sat in the middle of a barn. She could see bales of hay in a loft, wooden beams, a concrete floor. The doors stood slightly open to the dark night outside. How long had she been out?

“Well, that took a while. I was starting to get bored.”

The man who had opened the house door sat in front of her. He smiled. “I wonder how many training procedures you ignored tonight. No backup, turning your back on the men in my house. Tsk, tsk, tsk. It seems like the Federal Bureau of Investigation should train their agents better than that.”

“You’re wrong about the backup,” she said. “We called them.” She could hear movement behind her but kept her eyes on him. “Damien Cisco, I presume?”