Blurb: Sara Night lost her family three years ago in a car crash…
She tried to continue living a normal life, going to school, spending time with friends, and even trying to be a part of the family that took her in. She had almost gotten the hang of it, and moved past the suicide attempt.
Then she was torn away from her new family, her old life, and thrown into a world of guns, knifes, criminals, and where every mistake could get her killed. She was needed for what seems like an easy in-then-out mission.
That was until she got caught.
Sara then had to form an uneasy alliance with a cartel member to escape, which reveals her family’s car crash wasn’t an accident after all.
Is her new life worth more to her than revenge?
Or will she die trying to figure out why her family was targeted?
Excerpt: I had been shocked to discover that they still used paper files, or that paper files still existed. Demon had been adamant that the files weren't on computers yet, but I had a hard time believing it, since most of them would have been moved to computers by now. At least that's what I thought, but then again some liked having paper in front of them and having a hard copy in their hands. It was like newspapers, some liked the paper, and others preferred reading it online. The debate would never end, but in this case, it was helpful to me if I found what I needed.
There were a ton of files at my touch, but when I opened one of the cabinets I discovered this wasn't going to be as easy as I originally thought. There were no labels on the manila folders for me to determine what I would need to take and what I could skip over. So I was forced to open cabinet after cabinet, searching through files of all different proceedings done by the cartel. The files weren't in any particular order from what I could tell, because the letter labels meant nothing it seemed. Each section started with a different letter tab, but unlike normal file cabinets that would have all the files with the same starting letter under the same tab, for them it didn't seem to matter what the file started with for where it was placed.
Their organizational system didn't make any sense to me, but then again it wasn't supposed to make sense to someone outside of the cartel. Right now, it seemed as if the title of the file didn't matter. There were incorrect titles under the starting letter, and most times they didn't even have the same letter. There were a lot of M's in the S section and a variety of letters scattered throughout the cabinet. I shook my head wildly, fighting the urge to fix the organization as I pulled out random files and started to rip pages out. I chose ones that had titles sounded promising, anything I thought we would need to know and a few I searched through at a glimpse to determine their information.
As I worked my way through the files, I found information on their distribution locations, names of members from comments or concerns from the individuals in charge, detailed records of exchanges and dealings, who bought from them and for how much, and a list of possible locations they would be going that I found in the desk. I inspected the paper closely, to see if there was a pen mark that seemed to favor a certain destination. I tried to figure out why they hadn't marked a destination, but I guess it was just in case someone like me came along and found it.
They didn't want anyone to follow them, but we were determined to find them again after they moved. Even if I didn't find exactly where they were going, we would eventually find them again and someone else would be sent on this mission.
I sighed heavily as I squinted to see any marks that would designate a possibility of their new location, but there weren't any from what I could tell. Then again, I am standing in here with the lights off and no windows, I thought to myself as I stuffed the sheet of paper into my pocket with the others. Whenever I made lists and was deciding between two or more things there were little pen marks from me tapping my pen between the choices. Even they hadn't marked a destination to go, I was going to take it along with the other sheets of paper that I had ripped out in hopes of seeing it better in the light.
The small flashlight just wasn't enough for me to investigate the papers accurately enough. I could really only use it to skim the words and titles of the files before I stuffed papers into my pockets or folded the file so I could take it with me. I scanned a few more files to find more sheets to take back with me, and then placed them back where I found them. I was running out of room in my pockets so it was time for me to leave and take what I had found. I was about to turn and leave when the lights suddenly flicked on around me.
I froze momentarily, hoping it was Raider playing a joke on me or that this had been a test run of the mission to see if I was capable enough to handle it. However, when I turned around I noticed a tall, white girl with long blonde hair and bright white teeth that could blind someone in the dead of night. She wouldn't have scared me, but she wasn't alone and the people with her terrified me. Two well built, large men, who reminded me more of body builders than cartel members, were behind her and had rather upset expressions etched across their face at the sight of me. They had larger bicep muscles than my head, and I knew they meant business by the dangerous gleam in their eyes.
I looked back over at the girl, all she did was smirk at me, blinding me with her teeth. "I thought we had an intruder."
All new agents have required therapy sessions. Please attend your scheduled time, and be courteous to the other agents that have been assigned to your group.
“Camo, why are you the only one here?” Doctor Shorn asked as she glanced between her watch and the list of names. There were three people in each group, and the other two in Camo’s group were attempting to find a way out of the mandatory session. They didn’t want to discuss their feelings, their story, and how they were affected by the cover story CIRA had given them when they were recruited. They just wanted to move on.
Camo didn’t need a cover story. She had been picked up in a raid against the Cardoza Cartel after they attempted to murder her. As far as they were concerned she died in that raid, and wouldn’t come looking for her. They made sure that even when she did leave she wouldn’t be recognized. Complete with a constant spray tan to cover her pale white skin, colored contacts, and even small facial surgery to prevent facial recognition. She was safe, and had chosen to join on her own. That also left her wondering why she had been called in for the session, but either way she was just here to get it done with; unlike her two coworkers.
Camo was about to answer when the door behind her burst open. Threats and foul words streamed into the room as Demon, the leader of their small team, carried Night Stripe into the room against her will. Demon had her slung over his shoulder, her umber hair covering her face as she struggled to get loose. Her attempts including hits wherever she could land them, and was flailing in an attempt to break his grip; it didn’t work.
“If you don’t put me down right now,” Night Stripe started to threaten before Demon dropped her into the chair the therapist had left open for her.
“There you’re down. Now stay there until this is over,” Demon ordered. He waited for Night Stripe to show that she heard him, but when she opened her mouth he stopped her. “I don’t want to hear anymore excuses. You don’t want to train, you just want a way out. I’ll be right outside that door,” he said gesturing to the only way in or out of this room. There weren’t even windows for her to squeeze out of. “Don’t try going anywhere.”