Diane couldn't breathe.

She startled awake and tried to sit up before she became aware of the large hand covering her mouth. Another hand shoved her back down as she grabbed at the covers and let out a muffled scream that she hardly recognized as her own.

Terror swept over her, gripping her chest. She tried to bite the hand on her mouth, but as time slipped and dragged into slow motion, the other hand came down on her.

Hard.

Diane's mind spun wildly as she fell back, tasting the blood in her mouth. Her fear was pushing to give her focus through the pain. She was struck again, literally sending stars through her head, as a strange voice growled above her, "Where is it!"

The question was just beginning to register in her brain as he dragged her out of her bed and threw her down on the floor. Diane barely caught herself as she hit and choked out, "Who are... what do you want?"

"TELL ME!" he shouted, "Or I'll break your neck!"

Before she had time to react, he kicked over the night stand and bent down to grab her arm, dragging her again. She caught a glimpse of her gun laying on the floor as he pulled her roughly out of the room and down the hall.

She didn't resist. Her training was coming back and she began to consider her options.

He's looking for something. He doesn't want me, he's looking for something. Diane's arm ached but she made herself think. What is it? Money? What does he want? He dragged her around, pushing over lamps and small tables. Her breath came in short gasps.

Get a description, she thought. She began to make a mental list. His face, his voice...something she recognized. A place.

Foreign, he sounds foreign. Diane quickly ran through all the accents she could remember. South American. Yes. That's it. Fits with his face. Well dressed.

He yanked the phone from the wall.

Just then her conversation with Denby three weeks ago came racing back. He had warned her that Don was getting in deep with some serious drug runners who were bent on keeping him from testifying. "Dominicans.... Bad guys."

Diane saw the gun that was still tucked into the belt of the stranger that towered over her. It was an expensive model and the silencer gave away his intentions. This was no robber.

"No, don't. I don't have it," she began to plead.