Sandman, Unknown Identities #3

Sandman2-usaT-smallAvailable at Amazon

A Marine sniper has one final shot at love… 

Wrongly accused of an unsanctioned kill on a secret desert mission, Matthew Horn took his only option and let a shadow agency declare him dead. In the years since, he’s become a trusted operative, but now they want him to kill an innocent woman… a woman from his past.

Desperate to escape her mysterious kidnapper, Renata Vaccaro breaks free and finds herself facing what can only be the ghost of the man she loved and lost. Instead she learns Matthew is not only alive, he’s there to kill her.

Matthew and Renata must unravel a web of lies to find a solution that saves her life and assures his freedom, giving them one more chance to reclaim the love they lost.



“If you’re looking for something incredible, read this series!” A.Brantley

“Ms. Black once again takes us into the shadowy world of UI, using the dark and dangerous style we have come to expect with this series and giving us action, mystery and romance all wrapped up into a quick fun novella.” -lovestodive

“A fast-paced thriller with lots of action and romance.” – C. Gibbon, Amazon reviewer


Every muscle in her body ached. Holy Mother of God, even her eyelids ached behind the blindfold. Renata Vaccaro tipped her head back as far as the restraints allowed, sure this time she would glimpse some source of light, but all was darkness. Hours ago – or maybe it had been days – she’d run out of tears and she felt the mascara that had been on her eyelashes now caked on her cheeks. As if anything about her appearance mattered now.
When would someone tell her what this was about?
Flexing and stretching her fingers, her wrists chafed against the tight restraints but she felt the band of her citrine ring. So it wasn’t an elaborate robbery – or maybe they just weren’t done yet.
What she wouldn’t give for a good old fashioned mugging about now.
The thought was so ludicrous she laughed. The hysterical sound bounced around her, making her shiver.
Was she in an office somewhere in the airport? A basement? Her swing coat and shoes were gone, but she felt the comfort of her silk blouse, scarf, skirt, and stockings. The floor was cold and hard under her toes. Possibly cement, but it didn’t smell like basements and other underground places. Unless she was in some sort of vault. Climate controlled vaults didn’t have the same musty odor as basements.
A moment’s panic hit on the heels of that thought. Closed spaces were a personal weakness. With no visual cues, she had no way of knowing the parameters of her surroundings. On a long, slow breath, she decided she might as well envision herself in a big space rather than a small one.
It helped. As did the smooth inhale and exhale of the meditation breathing she’d been practicing. There would be an opportunity, she just had to keep it together until that opportunity presented itself.
She tried to wriggle her chair, to throw herself one way or the other, but the chair seemed locked in place. There was no light, no sound aside from those she made in her distress. No motion, no smells other than the sharp scent of fear overpowering the perfume she’d applied yesterday.
Was it yesterday or had more time slipped away?
Not the point, Renata. She was awake now and focusing on the present was critical.
Her memory felt disjointed, like a puzzle with a few pieces missing and even more pieces forced into the wrong places. She remembered handing over her boarding pass, strolling down the jet way, her mind on Madrid and all the enticing temptations waiting for her there.
Stupid. If she’d just stayed home like one of the good girls… She scolded herself for being an idiot, for using the demands of her job to make excuses to her family. For believing anything about her plans could have been as straightforward as a sexy holiday affair.
Renata forced her mind from that slippery cliff of ‘what the hell’ and ‘what’s next’. She couldn’t afford a moment’s speculation on either answer or she’d lose her tenuous grip on her sanity.