We both worked at Blackwood Security, the company I owned along with my husband and two others, but while Dan was number two in the investigations division, I headed up Special Projects, which basically meant I dealt with all the shit nobody else wanted to touch. Some twelve-year-old kid earning a buck an hour, probably.įor over a decade now, Dan had been one of my best friends, my colleague, and my partner in crime. Because if he hadn’t accidentally blown himself up one fateful day in April, I’d have been kicking around in Afghanistan, topping up my tan and trying to avoid food poisoning instead of cursing out my laptop when Daniela di Grassi walked past my office. No, the blame for that little adventure lay squarely with Ahmedeen al-Shabari, a Middle Eastern terrorist who had trouble telling his red wire from his blue wire.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.ĮVER HEAR ABOUT the time an assassin got stuck in a closet while a sitting congressman got screwed to death by a pseudo-hooker on the other side of the door? Let me tell you, it was fucking awkward. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Published by Undercover Publishing Limited
