Red Zone (Red Zone 1)

Miriam turned her back on the young employee. He was nothing more than a perk of the job. Her position afforded her access to a never-ending parade of young men, each of them eager to meet with CommTECH’s director in the hopes of advancing their careers. Of course, after a trip to the clinic the following morning, none of the men remembered ever having set foot in Miriam’s apartment. Their time together was nothing more than a gap in their memories and a few unexplained bruises and scars on their bodies. She smirked at the thought. There was nothing more delightful than meeting up with one of her men during work and seeing their lack of recognition. In fact, on a number of occasions, she’d used the same man twice, enjoying that she could do what she wanted and the evidence would be wiped away.

“How much stimulant did you give him?” Kane asked. “He’s sweating, and it looks like his balls will burst.”

“I don’t know. Enough.” She looked over her shoulder as she walked across the polished wood toward her bathroom. “I had planned to use him again before he was removed.” She smiled at her loyal employee. Kane deserved some perks, too. “You can do as you wish with him until he’s taken to the clinic. No point in letting him go to waste.”

The smile that curved around the man’s lips would have made most people shudder. Miriam wasn’t most people. She closed the bathroom door behind her and stepped into the cleansing chamber. A mental command to the unit made sure that her body was expertly cleansed, perfumed, and moisturized in a matter of minutes. Knowing she had an image to present, even if it was the middle of the night, Miriam pressed her face to the makeup mask and felt the tingle as it made up her face. A quick walk through her closet allowed her to select a white silk trouser suit and matching leather boots. Once dressed, she headed for her office.

“Director.” The Enforcement agent bowed his head as soon as she had him on screen.

Miriam didn’t waste any time. “Friday Jones is alive.”

The man’s jaw clenched tight.

“My source tells me that she’s meeting a jet in Monterrey on Saturday morning. Early. The pickup is scheduled for before dawn.”

“Do you know which direction she’s coming from?”

“In other words, do I know where she is now?” Miriam’s fingers flicked on the console, and she pulled up the Enforcement captain’s file, aware he could see her actions. “No. But I think I’ve done enough of your job for you. Don’t you?”

The man paled as Miriam sent his details to Kane. She was well aware that the rumors around Kane were particularly vicious. Often times, those rumors alone were enough of a threat to ensure compliance.

“Forgive me, Director. I’ll make sure that there is a team waiting for her in Monterrey.”

Miriam pinned him with a look. “A team of mercenaries. We can’t afford to have Enforcement linked to operations in Coalition Countries.”

“Of course.”

“Make sure the orders you give to the mercenaries are clear. This is an elimination. It is not a capture.”

“Yes, Director.” He hesitated. “And if there is anyone accompanying her?”

Miriam almost wished the man were physically in front of her so she could slap him for his stupidity. “Let me be as clear for you as I can. I don’t care who is with her. I want the scientist and her companions killed. I don’t want any witnesses. I don’t want any loose ends. Do you think you can manage that, Captain?”

“Yes, Dir—”

With a dismissive wave of her hand, she got rid of his image and turned to look out at the city’s skyline. When would she reach a position where she wouldn’t have to deal with petty issues? She’d thought being director of CommTECH would be enough. She ruled over the most prosperous and powerful Territory on the globe. But increasingly, these past few years, she’d found that other people’s mistakes were disturbing her peace. It only reinforced what she had long believed. There were too many leaders on the planet. A peaceful existence, for her and her Territory, was dependent on there being one clear leader. Someone every nation rallied around. Someone so powerful that petty issues were beneath them.

That someone was her.

Chapter Eighteen

After a few hours of the best sleep she’d ever had, curled safe in Striker’s arms, Friday sat impatiently while everyone argued about her. Doc wanted to sedate her before they made their way through the red mist to the EMP barrier. Apparently, the consensus was that she was likely to throw herself into the mist again. She scoffed at the thought, now that she knew it didn’t affect Striker, she was hardly going to save him from it. A fact she’d told his team. Unfortunately, they weren’t listening to logic, and she’d resigned herself to waiting for them to talk themselves out.

She was bored. She wanted

to get going. She didn’t want to die. She mentally rolled her eyes at herself. Of course she didn’t want to die. Did anyone?

“You don’t know what effect a sedative would have on the poison she took,” Striker shouted, even though she’d told them twice now that it would have no effect at all. Seemed no one was interested in listening to the expert in the room, so she let them carry on wasting their time—for now. “We can’t take any chance of reducing the time we’ve got left to get to La Paz.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Doc shouted back. “If she touches the mist again, you’re gonna lose another damn day dealing with the repercussions.”

“I won’t touch the mist,” Friday said again, and was ignored—again.

It was clear she didn’t actually have to be present for the argument. She wondered if they would mind if she went to the lab and read through Doc’s research. There was a lot of it, and she was eager to get started. The team fascinated her. Especially Striker. She shivered at the thought of his late-night kisses and the promises he’d made to drive her crazy with his touch. She couldn’t wait.

“We can’t take any chances with her,” Striker’s angry words snapped her back to the useless argument they were all set on having.

His shoulders rippled, and she could have sworn the diamondback looked straight at her. She leaned closer to stare at the thing. Did it move? Maybe it was just the tensing of Striker’s muscles while he waved his arms around. The man gestured when he was angry. Great big over-the-top gestures. Strangely, she found it more amusing than threatening.