Unleashing the Storm

Chapter One TUESDAY 4 P.M. MST Kira Donovan would be dead by now if Ender needed her to be, another victim of his steady hand and expert marksmanship, which were part random gift of nature and part honed by years of training. He lay in familiar sniper position, on his stomach on the broad, grassy slope overlooking the farm, mentally lining up one perfect shot after another as the woman he'd been sent to persuade walked in and out of the dilapidated barn without a care in the world. The woman born as Charity Connelly was going to require a hell of a lot of training to bring her up to spec. And she was going to have to stop wearing those shorts and T-shirts that showed off too much tanned, curvy flesh too, because that was much too distracting for everyone involved. Ms. Freakin' Doolittle and her merry band of animals were going to have a rude awakening. He sighed, put his forehead down against the cool earth and breathed in the scent of nature that always seemed to be a part of him, no matter how hard he'd tried to get away. And even though he so didn't want this assignment, he was here, and he had a job to do. And his jobs always got done. Speaking of done, what hadn't been was the beautiful woman he'd picked up last night, someone who shared his tastes in bed and his penchant for no-strings relationships. That had to be the real reason for his hard-on. They'd just gotten to the handcuffs portion of the evening when he'd received the call from work, something he couldn't ignore. And when Dev, the head of the Agency for Covert Rare Operatives that employed him, and Ken, his direct supervisor, had laid out the plan to him, which meant taking the red-eye from the Catskills, New York, compound to bumble-fuck Idaho, Ender had just shaken his head in a combination of irritation and no-fucking-way. "Why me?" he'd asked when he arrived at Dev's office. Because he'd worked for five years as one of their top Convincers, the guy who brought home the big catches. He liked being able to go in and pick off the men and women who'd already been briefed to some degree about the agency's dealing in Special Ops of a very different kind, was always prepared for one of these rare-ability types to go off the deep end, but never had much more than a casual, passing acquaintance with them. He did not want to be one of the people who actually had to recruit the talent. "You've got patience," Ken said. He snorted. "Patience when I'm waiting for the right shot, yes. My patience where new recruits are concerned is severely limited, and if you mean patience where women are concernedwell, I just went from bad to worse." "You've got the background for the cover. You grew up on a farm," Ken continued. "Shit," he'd muttered, because he'd put his shit-kickers away when he left the farm, and the horse, when he was sixteen, and never looked back. Hitched around the country for a year doing odd jobs, whatever he could get his hands onsame went for womenand finally, when he hit seventeen and got his GED, he hit the nearest recruiting office. He wanted differentcollegesomething. And the Army had given him that, Delta Force and Covert Ops even more. His parents had given consent, grateful that he'd finally called to tell them he was still alive. He finally appealed to the head of ACRO. "Come on, Dev. You've got plenty of other guys who could handle this oneguys whose job it is to do this. What the hell do you need my talents for so early in the game?" Dev had smiled, and with his usual straightforwardness, simply said, "Because if she can't be convinced to join us within forty-eight hours, you're going to have to kill her." Ender had grabbed the file and left the office without another word. Ken hadn't wanted a traiCroft, Sydney is the author of 'Unleashing the Storm', published 2008 under ISBN 9780385340816 and ISBN 0385340818.