Free Mistaken Identity (Women's Fantasies) by Giselle Renarde Page A

Brenda’s stomach dropped and she felt like a caged animal. What the hell was going on here? Was this stranger trying to kidnap her for some crazy sex game? She gripped the counter, and stumbled back against the side of a stall.
    “Come on, Mrs. Antonelli, let’s not play games.” Green took a step forward, and her gaze softened a touch. “There’s no need to worry. We’re not going to hurt you, Mitzi.”
    “Mitzi? Antonelli?” Brenda burst with laughter. This was all a case of mistaken identity. “No, you’re way off. I’m Brenda—Brenda Jones.”
    Green’s expression flickered, and then hardened as she grabbed her arm. “Nice try.”
    “What are you doing?” Brenda shrieked.
    Green swung her around and slapped cold metal rings around one wrist then the other.
    Her mind couldn’t keep pace with her body. By the time she’d told herself to react, it was too late.
    “I gave you the opportunity to come of your own accord.” Green’s nipples pressed into Brenda’s back. “If you choose to fight, better believe I’ll fight back.”
    “Why are you going this?” Brenda tried to scream, but her words came out in a whisper. “I don’t want to come with you. Please, don’t make me. I’m just out for girls’ night. Please, let me go.”
    As panic set in, Brenda saw herself from above. She floated across the ceiling as Green shoved her out of the bathroom and down the narrow hallway, past a payphone and a room marked Staff Only. Why were her feet moving so easily? If she just dropped her weight, Green would have to drag her, and she couldn’t believe the woman was really that strong.
    But apparently she was strong enough to force Brenda through another door and into a dark, dirty alleyway. Brenda’s floating perspective followed along as Green forced her through the open door of a black town car. When Green tugged fastened her into the back seat, she rejoined her body.
    “My arms!” Brenda cried, struggling against the strain in her shoulders and upper back. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”
    A dark window came down in front of her, and a gush of new car smell hit her in the face. The man from restaurant met her gaze in the mirror as the car squealed out of the alley. “Didn’t my partner introduce herself?”
    They stopped—too fast—for a red light, and Brenda’s stomach lurched. For some reason, she didn’t want to get the pretty girl in trouble. “Green. She’s Green, she said. She did introduce herself, yes, but I don’t know who you are, or why you–Why? Why am I here?”
    She gave in to the onslaught of tears and hung her head, letting them fall unhindered into her lap. She could have used a little tenderness, maybe an arm around her shoulders.
    Green didn’t budge. “Come on, Mitzi. Get a grip. Enough with the waterworks.”
    “Green!” the man said. “Maybe she doesn’t know.”
    “Know what?” Brenda felt vindicated by his rough tone, but she had to figure a way out. “What’s going on? Why do you keep calling me Mitzi?”
    “What would you like us to call you?” the driver asked.
    “Brenda.” Why wouldn’t they listen? “My name is Brenda .”
    Green shook her head. “She’s not co-operating, Red. This one’s gonna be a tough nut to crack.”
    “We’re not cracking any nuts, here,” Red said. “Look what you’re doing to the woman, Green. Lay off for a while.”
    “Lay off the wife of a key player in a major crime syndicate?” Green sneered.
    “What?” Brenda had to laugh. “Who, Danny? You think he’s a mob boss? My husband won’t even cross against a light.”
    Green growled. “See, Red? Stonewalling us. They’re all the same, these mob bitches.”
    “Hey!” Brenda said.
    “There’s no need for that sort of talk,” Red told his partner.
    They had to be police officers, or special agents, or something. Green and Red must be code names. Why did it take her so damn long to figure that out? She was smart as a whip, when she was