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The mattress moaned slightly in response to an unseen and unexpected movement. Her eyes snapped open and focused on the room, moving up, down, side-to-side. She didn’t recognize a single thing in her line of view. A rush of air flooded her lungs in a panicked gasp. She wasn’t where she should be.
In her own bed.
Damn. Where am I and how did I end up here?
Her last memory? The bar. Jed’s Place. She’d received a tip from her source that her suspect had slithered inside. Arriving a few minutes later, she kept an eye on him and his cohorts for a couple of hours. Posing as a customer, she shot a couple of games of eight ball with some of the regulars.
Her eyes narrowed. Her head pounded as she recalled the next events.
Nothing stood out until . . . the asshole from the pool table sidled up way too close behind her and tried to score points by offering shooting tips. She stretched up on her tiptoes to line up the winning shot. His groin pressed tight against her bottom. His hands slid down her arms to her wrists as he whispered, “Let me give you a hand there, little lady.”
Without flinching, she purred, “I’m not little, I’m nobody’s lady, and I don’t need your help.” She slammed the butt end of the cue stick into his ribs, and with the same smooth motion came back to make a perfect shot and win her third game of the night. She straightened from the table with a satisfied grin.