Chapter Sixteen
It was a square, windowless room, formed by thick adobe walls, braced with wooden rafters. Along one side stood a metal bedframe; along the other, crudely-built shelves kept an arsenal of sinister implements readily available for use in disciplining recalcitrant prisoners. From the main rafter, hung a chained chandelier of rusted iron, the kind found in the hauciendas of a hundred years ago – a simple ring of metal, fashioned to hold a wreath of candles.
And from beneath the swaying chandelier, hung a beautiful nude – Special Agent Mallory Channing, her pale blue eyes wide with fright. Her gaping mouth had been gagged, stoppered with a hard rubber ball, while her cuffed wrists were held fastened to the ring of iron that hung just over her head. Suspended from the ceiling
