Private Agendas: Book 2 of the V-Files

“I don't recall ordering—” The door opened suddenly, slamming her against the wall. As she fought to remain conscious, she saw the outline of two men. She felt herself slide to the floor and heard the smaller one speak in a familiar accent. She slurred, “Boston,” then passed out.

Nudging her body with his custom boot, the smaller man turned to the larger. “You’re an idiot. I told you none of them are to be damaged.”

“Yes sir, but we were warned she would be a fighter. I thought it better if I controlled the initial meeting.” Shaking his head in begrudging admiration, he continued, “She should have been out cold. I transferred more than enough product onto her skin when she checked in. This is exactly why I like the good old-fashioned ways: put it in their drink, sprinkle it on their food. Works like a charm.”

Glaring at his companion, the smaller man growled, “If you ever discuss the details of your business in front of me again, I promise you’ll end up worse than they do.” Looking around the room, he nodded at her phone lying on the bed. “Get it, and have her moved to the usual location. No trace. And you’d better do something about that bump on her head. She’ll be of little use looking like that.”