Chapter 3

The waffle pattern of the floor left a mark Emma noted when she woke in the cell. It also gave her slack-jawed drool a place to go. Now, if only she could recall how she'd gotten on the floor. She didn't remember much after getting hosed down and then run through a few scanners.

One of the lobster dudes had forced a drink into her that made her pass out, and in what was becoming a habit too often repeated, she'd woken a prisoner.

With no clothes.

"What the hell?" Her first instinct was to slap hands on her privates, except that wouldn't do a damned thing. If someone watched her on camera, they'd already gotten an eyeful. No use hiding now.

Having been in this situation before, she knew better than to pound at the walls and wail about her fate. No one cared. No one would come rushing to her aid.