Operation: Thrustmaster (Rock Hardin: Agent of A.S.S. Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

duffle bag and brought out a pair of handcuffs. “You’re going to stay put,” he said as he returned to her, taking her hand roughly and handcuffing her hands around the brass bed frame. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”  
         “ Just don’t hurt me,” she pleaded, her eyes huge and liquid.  
         “ I won’t,” he said as he gagged her. “I promise, I won’t. I’ll be right back.”  
          He finished readying himself with his jacket and boots, then fished his gun and glasses out of his duffle, and the keys to the car out of her purse. Looking over her once more and satisfied the petite woman wouldn’t be able to escape, he exited, heading back down to the garage. When he reached the car, he opened the trunk… and saw the body of a woman inside, stuffed hastily in there. A twinge of guilt clenched his heart, but instead of wasting time over it, he reached in and searched. Burned remnants of what must have been the real dossier from the French lay underneath the body. “Fuck,” he said, slamming the trunk shut. His only lead now lay with Petite, and he’d do what he’d have to do.  
          Fortunately for his conscience, something hard and heavy hit him on the back of the head. Unfortunately for his mission, consciousness swam away from him, and he sank to the ground.  
     
     

Chapter Three
     
          A sharp slap roused him from his unwanted slumber. Rock jerked away, pain racing through the back of his head and up his arms. He started to move, then realized he was strung up, his hands bound above him and hooked over something. He’d been stripped to his waist, open and vulnerable. As his senses came to him, the dark, almost dungeon-esque room swam into focus. The walls were made of a heavy, dark stone, which appeared to be rough to the touch. Chains and other accoutrements of a medieval prison were abundant, though no actual torture furniture or instruments he could see.  
          A figure stepped before him, slapping him once more. “Are you awake, Mr. Hardin?” a cold male voice asked.  
         “ Not until you get me my coffee and a smoke,” he quipped, earning himself another hit. Rock heard some rustling behind him, and a grunt of effort. Turning his head slightly, he caught a flash of blonde hair, but then the man who’d hit him grabbed his jaw and forced him to look forward. He instantly recognized him from the fake dossier he’d read: Sebastian LeMarchand… Ms. Cutler’s lover.  
         “ I trust you’re awake now,” Sebastian said, letting go of Rock’s jaw and stepping backwards. “You couldn’t just enjoy Paris for a few more hours, could you? It would have all been done then.”  
         “Let me go, you asshole! ” a feminine voice behind him shrieked. “I’m going to fucking sue you!”  
          LeMarchand laughed, looking over Rock’s shoulder to his other captive. “Quiet down now, my dear, the boys are talking.” He directed his cold gaze back to Rock. “I should kill you now… but we’ll have a little fun first.”  
         “How ‘bout some football?” he asked. “Not soccer, real football.”  
          The earned him a contemptuous laugh, and LeMarchand walked a few paces away. Rock kept his attention mostly on the villain in front of him, but tried to scout the room as best he could, orienting himself to the layout. His shirt, jacket, watch, and shoes were piled haphazardly on the table, their contents strewn across the surface… but they must have missed the gun in the shoe sole. The table stood by the only door to the room, a heavy wooden one with no window. He swiveled over to the other side and he saw Cynthia Cutler hanging in the same position he was, though only her tip toes brushed the floor. She was practically naked, hanging there in her expensive black underwear, and looked to have bruise on her body, as if she’d been beaten lightly. Rock ground his teeth and set his