An Accidental Goddess by Linnea Sinclair

By Linnea Sinclair

Raheiran unique Forces captain Gillaine Davré has simply woken up in a few unknown area manner station, thinking about the place the final 300 years have long past. the very last thing she recalls is her send being attacked. Now it appears whereas she used to be time-traveling, she used to be ordained a goddess…. Gillaine’s merely desire of survival rests with dangerously seductive Admiral Mack Makarian, who suspects her of being a smuggler—or worse. yet he can’t start to think the total volume of it. For Gillaine is now girl Kiasidira, holy icon to numerous believers, together with Mack—a guy who evokes emotions in her which are faraway from saintly…feelings she is familiar with are mutual. but if their flirtation is interrupted by means of a treacherous enemy from the prior, Gillaine’s secret—and mystery desires—could smash them both….

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I shall leave you the name of my bank in Switzerland. When they tell me the first two hundred and fifty thousand dollars has been deposited, or when I am fully ready, whichever is the later, I shall move. I will not be hurried beyond my own judgement, nor will I be subject to interference. » «D'accord. But our undercover men in France are in a position to offer you considerable assistance in the way of information. » The Englishman considered this for a moment. «All right, when you are ready send me by mail a single telephone number, preferably in Paris so that I can ring that number direct from anywhere in France.

At the top he paused and glanced down the only corridor available. At the far end was room 68. He counted back down the corridor to what must be AA although the figures were out of sight. Between himself and the door of 64 was twenty feet of corridor, the walls being studded on the right by two other doors before 64, and on the left a small alcove partially curtained with red velours hanging from a cheap brass rod. He studied the alcove carefully. From beneath the curtain, which cleared the floor by four inches, the toe of a single black shoe urged slightly.

Whatever thoughts did go on behind the smoke-screen, nothing came through, and Rodin felt a worm of unease. Like all men created by systems and procedures, he did not like the unpredictable and therefore the uncontrollable. «We know who you are,» he began abruptly. «I had better introduce myself. » «I know,» said the Englishman, «you are chief of operations of the OAS. » He stared at each of the men in turn as he spoke, and reached for a cigarette. «You seem to know a lot already,» interjected Casson as the three watched the visitor light up.

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