18
Eden struggled through a tangle of blurry nightmares of a man grabbing her in the darkness before she woke up. The last thing she remembered was that awful man on the plane, the Frenchman, jabbing her again with another drug-filled needle just before they landed. No doubt he wanted to keep her subdued, confused, and weak. The bastard. She blinked, her eyes dry, her lips chapped, and her muscles stiff as she tried to move. Her blue silk gown slid against soft leather, and she realized she was lying upon a couch.
She was in a huge office with a mahogany desk and expensive-looking oil paintings on the walls. A large stuffed gorilla stood in a corner. Its menacing pose could have been mistaken as threatening, but she saw only a poor creature, afraid, defensive . . . dead.
Its glass eyes
