What if you woke up from a drugged sleep and...

Found yourself with a gun in your hand and a body on the floor. When Katja "Kat" Lombardo wakes up near the dead body of her partner with a gun in her hand and no memory of what happened, she calls on the only person she trusts to help her—Zak Delaney, the lover she abandoned two years ago. Now Zak must put aside his anger toward Kat in order to find the real killers before he once again loses the woman he loves...this time for good.
Excerpt:
Kat Lombardo wanted to open her eyes but the lids felt coated in cement. Immovable. She shifted her head, only to discover a percussion orchestra had taken up residence and a huge bubble of nausea was stuck in her throat. Exerting a superhuman effort, she tried lifting her eyelids again, but her vision was blurry, everything swimming as if she were underwater. The only shape she could distinguish was the outline of the tall window in the opposite wall, with the blackness of the night shimmering like waves.
Oh, God. What’s wrong with me? And where the hell am I?
The room had a vaguely familiar feel to it, but her head was pounding so heavily she couldn’t properly focus her eyes. She blinked once. Twice. Very slowly the image of the room began to sharpen and she looked slowly around.
Okay. She was in the paneled den in the very palatial home of her partner, Nate Dunning, and she was wearing a jeweled cocktail dress.
Cocktail dress? Had there been a party? And where were her shoes?
And where the hell were her shoes?
Aware now that she was lying on a couch, she turned her head to the side carefully and with great difficulty, then scanned the room. Familiar enough, considering the number of times she’d been here. Nothing unusual. Then, shock sliced through her like a steel blade. She felt bile rising at the back of her throat and had to force back the nausea at the sight of Nate Dunning’s tall, muscular body lying on the floor. Dressed in a tailored shirt with an entwined ND on the breast pocket and black boot cut slacks, no jacket or tie, the pristine white of his shirt was covered with blood. And he wasn’t moving.
Kat closed her eyes, fighting back the queasiness that surged forward again and waited for the dizziness to settle. Her skin felt clammy and when she lifted a hand to wipe her forehead, she realized she was holding something.
A gun.
Gun?
Holy hell!
She didn’t even own a gun, so where had this one come from? She stared at it stupidly.
Don’t panic. Just don’t panic.
Right. Easier said than done.
Gritting her teeth she dragged herself upright and pushed to her feet. Still holding the gun she walked unevenly across the room and forced herself to kneel beside the body. She pressed two fingers to the hollow at Nate’s throat to feel the carotid artery. No pulse. Nothing. Not even a faint thump.
Nate was definitely dead.
What had happened here tonight? And why was she here in the first place? As far as the evening was concerned, her mind was a total blank.
Another wave of dizziness hit her and her eyes threatened to slam shut again. She felt as if she’d been drugged, but how was that possible? Was that what was making her sick? Besides Nate’s dead body, of course. And who could possibly have drugged her, anyway? All of this made her already dizzy head spin. Biting her lip hard enough to shake away whatever was working in her system, she rose on shaky legs. How had she ended up in Nate’s den with his dead body? And this gun?
Walking unsteadily to the door, she cracked it open, listening for sounds of anyone else in the house. Any activity. No voices or sounds of movement, but in the distance she heard a thin wailing sound. Even in her foggy state she identified it as the sound of a police siren, no doubt headed for this house. Her stomach twisted into a huge knot.
Thinkthinkthinkthinkthink.
A cold sense of dread settled in her stomach. She might not remember what happened tonight, but she couldn’t forget how upside down her life had been since she’d confronted Nate about some strange accounting information. First her house had been broken into and her den ransacked. Two nights later, in a blinding rain, her car had nearly been run off the road, leaving her shaken and terrified.
The police had been absolutely no help. There was no evidence of another car and they blamed it on poor driving conditions. There was no evidence of the break-in at her house and she could tell they wondered if she’d done it herself.
No, the police were not going to be her friends. Whoever had her in their sights had set her up. With Nate’s dead body.

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