Sanctioned (Foxy Valdez Thrillers Book 3)

Lies Become Truth

Foxy Valdez is back in Paris with a mission that could bring her closer than ever to the hidden power behind The Committee.

Tasked with hunting a powerful member of the organization, Foxy targets a French pharmaceutical titan whose latest project threatens to achieve what The Committee’s failed disinformation campaign could not: absolute control over the human mind.

But the deeper Foxy moves through the streets of Paris, the more the truth begins to fracture. Mercenaries, conspiracies, and half-truths surround her at every turn, while a legendary assassin closes in and the one person she trusts most may be keeping a secret capable of destroying everything between them.

As The Committee prepares to unleash its most ambitious weapon yet, Foxy must survive an enemy that is no longer only in the shadows.

It may already be inside her mind.

A tense international thriller filled with relentless action, psychological suspense, and high-stakes betrayal, SANCTIONED is the third book in Brian Cotton’s Foxy Valdez series.

Start reading SANCTIONED today.

Excerpt from the book

The cargo ship swayed back and forth, side to side, pushing the limits of Foxy Valdez’s digestive system. Like a terrified skydiver kissing the ground after a jump, she longed to kiss the steady, unmoving earth once they arrived in France.

Out on deck underneath the cold gray sky, she laid down the scrubbing brush in the bucket of soapy water at her feet. Soap suds splashed onto her black jacket and combat boots. She moved her head to the side. The black grime coating the catwalk would just have to wait.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Get your shit together.

“You okay?” Thor asked, placing his own brush, the once-white bristles stained black, into a bucket beside her.

“I’m fine,” Foxy said. She inhaled deeply once more. “Just need to take a break.”

With that, her insides rumbled, the burning food in her stomach desperate for an escape. She stumbled on the deck, keeping the bile-encased food down.

Just reach the bathroom, she kept repeating to herself. No way in hell would she vomit in front of all these hard-nosed operators and sailors.

She covered her mouth with the black sleeve of her jacket. Sweat drenched her entire body, right through her black tank top underneath the jacket and her cargo pants. So dehydrated, she didn’t know how her body could possibly produce enough water to vomit out. Anytime she drank fresh water, it shot right back out, to the point she convinced herself death would arrive before they reached their destination.

She floundered along the slick deck, bobbing and weaving around the shipping containers piled high, until she reached the lavatory. With a swift tug, the door opened, and she locked herself inside.

The rotten citrus-bile filled her mouth before she reached the toilet.

On her knees, she opened her mouth, and the eruption lasted several seconds.

She’d lost track of how many times seasickness overtook her on this damned cargo ship. No matter the drug offered to ease her suffering, nothing worked. At times, the puking intensified. She wished she’d listened to the better half of her psyche that told her to keep running.

Today served as day thirteen on this dreaded ship. Or was it day fifteen? She’d lost track. In any case, a little over two weeks ago she took off into that dark forest in rural Maryland as her former handler (friend?) died to secure her escape.

In the aftermath, she followed his instructions. Linked up with Ron Kilbourne and his team at Port of Baltimore, boarded a cargo ship, and they were off to France to continue the fight against The Committee. Kilbourne, Rooster…Thor…and the rest of the unit she’d fought alongside were there. Fresh off taking down a powerful tech CEO and the bastard senator who hired him to produce AI technologies that The Committee planned to use on the population. Fracturing, manufacturing, bending truth to their will. To serve their evil agenda.