Fallen Rogue Read Online Free PDF Page B

and the left arm’s bindings trailed underneath the sofa.
    Experimenting, she pulled her left hand toward her right. As she moved, her right hand shifted farther up the back of the couch. She then pulled her feet upward and found that motion caused her arms to be dragged downward. Her arms must have been tied to her feet.
    Panic flooded her. She closed her eyes and wrestled it down. She had to keep her cool or suffer another vicious bout of whatever was happening to her.
    Besides, it couldn’t be too bad. Though she was tied up, she was bound to a really comfortable couch. So she couldn’t be in too much trouble. The rushing anxiety drained away as she fought for control and flopped back down into the plump cushions, feeling the tickling strain on her abdomen fade.
    Harper looked carefully at her prison. Unfamiliar. Nothing sparked recognition. A solid, hearty wood coffee table sat between the couch and a huge flat-screen television, nested above matching wooden shelves stocked with sophisticated black entertainment components. Sparing an appreciative glance for the sleek technology, she then peered at the rest of the area.
    The decor was simple, yet the pieces there were of good quality. The space was wide-open and airy, especially with sunlight gracing every corner. The walls were adorned with snowy mountain landscapes encased in heavy wood frames. Dark blues and rich greens, which mingled with the plentiful natural light from the wall of windows that commandeered half the room, were the only colors present.
    She hated to pigeonhole the place, especially given her own spartan dwelling back in San Francisco, but the place hinted at a man’s touch.
    Man’s touch. Harper shot forward, wincing at the tight bindings. She flopped back into the plush confines of the couch.
    Flashes of memories showered over her, crackling inside her head like sparks. The last thing she remembered was wrestling with a shadowy figure just before he’d pinned her to the cold concrete floor of Bobby’s ruined lab. She’d had a second episode of the mind thing and events had been pretty hazy until all of a sudden he was there, facing her.
    Her recollections were spotty, but she recalled the man had quicksilver moves. Thankfully, her body’s fighting instincts had kicked in. Hadn’t she gotten in a solid jab? She flexed the fingers on her right hand. A slight prickling of pain radiated from her knuckles. A smile broke out despite the circumstances.
    He’d held her down under his hard-as-granite body, clasping his feet around her legs like an unbreakable vise and pinning her arms hard to her chest. She remembered her futile attempt to squirm out of his unyielding confinement. Then she’d finally asked him why. Why was he doing this? He’d seemed strangely confused at her question. Almost as confused as she was. And then she’d passed out.
    Was this his place? Was he keeping her hostage? Had he done something to her? The man seemed to have known her. Been looking for her. Why? As if things could get more convoluted.
    Shaking her head to clear it, Harper decided she’d better try to escape before finding the answers to any of those questions. Regardless of the cozy setting—not including the rope—she had no idea where she was or whether she was safe. Maybe there was no safe place for her anymore.
    Raising her head, she searched her immediate area for anything she could use to cut through the thick rope. The four electronic remotes scattered on the table wouldn’t do the trick. Neither would the rolled-up, halfempty bag of potato chips.
    But that glass might. Though a little crusty from recent use, it looked like the edges of the hefty pint glass would be thick enough to slice the twine as long as she could break the glass itself. It was resting on a coaster. Coaster?
    If she could only get to it. About a foot from the edge of the table, it would be a challenge. If she could just jar the table enough, the glass would roll off and shatter