“Yep.” Chase nodded in agreement. One date, one target, four potential locations from one end of North America to the other. That was the intelligence they had. The JTT were about to be scattered all over the continent, deep undercover, and completely isolated from each other.
Divide and conquer. Not a bad strategy if you were the domestic terrorist occupying the top spot on the Department of Homeland Security’s most wanted list.
“Remember, even though this is a black ops mission, it’s recon only,” the colonel said. “Your job is to get to your potential meeting location undetected. Identify Wright. Snap a picture. And get the fuck out. Zero body count unless necessary. You get into trouble, you send up a flag when you’re in range of a signal, but you follow the contingency plan in place to extricate yourself. Understood?” Heads around the table nodded. “All right. Let’s go get this motherfucker. JTT dismissed.”
After clearing US Customs,Gray Emerson walked out of the Miami International Airport with her backpack on, duffel shouldered, and her camera case in hand. And holy fuck. The late afternoon sun burned through her retinas.
Eyes watering, she plucked her drugstore sunglasses from her nonexistent cleavage and put them on before pulling her New York Yankees ball cap down low.
“Hey, crazy lady! Over here.” Her car parked in the passenger pick-up zone, Tara Pisani stood beside it, bouncing on the balls of her feet and waving like a maniac to get Gray’s attention.
At the sight of her best friend, her grin damn near split her face in half. Tara was exactly the welcome home Gray needed. It was also the only welcome home she’d get. Her own doing. She didn’t have much use for most people, preferring instead to keep her circle of friends small.
Small as in—a circle of one.
Tara happened to be the only person on the planet Gray could count on. And after ten days of dealing with crooked police, corrupt politicians, and local gang members while photographing the growing humanitarian crisis in Venezuela, she wanted a shower, a drink, and some quality time with her ride-or-die partner in crime.
Toss in a good night’s sleep and—maybe—she’d begin to feel human again.
“Oh my God! I’m so glad you’re home safe,” Tara squealed, throwing her arms around Gray and squeezing her tight. The hug ended too soon, and she wrinkled her nose while fanning her hand in front of her face. “Girl, you stink to high heaven. No showers in Caracas?”
“None that I had time to use in the last couple of days.” Gray surrendered her camera to Tara, who put it in the back of her car. “Is it that bad?” She dropped her bag beside the case and lifted her arm to sniff her pit. Phew. Good thing a shower came first on her mental list of things to do.
Tara grinned as she shut the rear door with the push of a button. “We’ll leave the windows down. So? How was it? Did you get the pictures you needed?”
“Shitty, and yes.” No point in mentioning she’d lost her deodorant after her hotel room had been ransacked. Or the fact she’d spent the last two days sweating her ass off in police custody until US Embassy officials had managed to spring her.
Turns out, Venezuelan president, Enrique Naturo, wasn’t a fan of American sanctions or threats of military action over the validity of his reelection. Neither was he keen on photographic evidence of Venezuela’s economic collapse brought on by his corrupt policies. Or the impact of that collapse on the already impoverished citizens of his country.
Although she wouldn’t agree, Tara had more important things to worry about. “How’d it go with the oncologist?” Gray’s stomach twisted in fear as she searched her friend’s face for any signs her cancer had come back.
“Appointment was fine. Dr. Suler ordered all the usual tests. We’ll get the results next week.” Tara took Gray’s hand and squeezed, offering comfort and reassurance that should have gone the other way. “We won’t worry about it. You’re back. We’re both alive and kicking. And we’re going out to MacDaddy’s tonight to celebrate.”
“Celebrate what?”
“Life.” Tara opened the passenger door and waved Gray inside. “But first…”
“Starbies,” they said together.
Tara wasted no time hitting their favorite Starbucks drive-thru, and two iced caffè lattes with mocha drizzle later, they were sipping on coffee-flavored perfection while she took the I-195 to Miami Beach.
As always, a pang of sorrow stabbed Gray straight through the heart as they drove by the Mount Sinai Medical Center on the way to her condo. Two years ago, her mother had spent a great deal of time inside those walls before she succumbed to the breast cancer that had aggressively spread.
As if life had conspired against her, Gray had been to her brother’s funeral weeks before her mother’s diagnosis. Broken up with her boyfriend for being a cheating bastard days after. And, as usual, her father had been on animportant missionsomewhere else in the world.
For months, Gray had been alone, scared, and freaking the fuck out.
No surprise she’d blown up at the doctors who’d told her mother to get her affairs in order. Also no surprise, she followed up that stellar performance by taking off in a fit of rage seconds later.
When she finally stopped running, she found herself bawling like a baby, standing outside the door to the hospital’s little multi-faith chapel. Frozen, she hadn’t been able to go in, and yet, she hadn’t been able to turn away.
Mad at the world and unfit for human interaction, she’d denounced God, cursing him for his cruelty. In a twist of fate, that’s when the tiny little pixie named Tara had found her.
Wearing a black bedazzled ball cap to cover her bald head and a T-shirt that read,Fuck you, Cancer,Tara Pisani had been walking around with a needle in her arm and a bottle of chemo on a pole. When she came across Gray in the hallway, the sick young woman had taken her hand, and with a gentle squeeze, Tara had wordlessly led the way inside.
As their inappropriate laughter bounced off Jesus at the front of the room, they had become fast friends in the last pew of the little chapel. Convinced God had brought them together, Tara had insisted they make a pact. She would get Gray through her mother’s passing, and in return, Gray would get her through her own.
Tara had been the rock Gray leaned on as her mother lost her life to cancer.
