Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71444 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
To Kynan’s immediate right sits a young black man with a bald head and freakish bluish-gray eyes. He’s sporting diamond studs in his ears, and he’s impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, which is expertly cut and stitched around an impressive array of muscles. I’d peg him as a professional athlete or something, but I know that’s not the case as it’s not the nature of our business.
Jameson Force Security is a private agency that contracts military and security specialists for any host of reasons from recovering kidnap victims to coordinating black-op strikes against foreign enemies.
“This is Dozer,” Kynan says as he points at the man. “I haven’t come up with a title for him yet, but he’s officially the smartest man employed by Jameson. He has an IQ of one hundred and seventy, and he turned down a very lucrative job at NASA to come join us as our head of strategy and planning as well as working with Bebe in tech. Dozer has been known to see things no one else can, which can be an invaluable resource in our line of work.”
All heads now whip toward Dozer, who has suddenly become the most interesting man in the world.
He merely grins, bright white teeth flashing against his black skin, and says, “Plus… Kynan promised me I’d get to learn how to blow shit up.”
This dude has it going on. Dresses like a damn movie star, has the good looks to go along with it, brains that make Stephen Hawking look stupid, and he wants to blow shit up. I cannot wait to have a beer with him.
My gaze moves from Dozer over to Saint, who is smirking at me. He’s thinking the same thing as I am… that we’re going to pull Dozer into the bromance we’ve had going since we started working here. We came on at the same time, and we weren’t part of the original Jameson crew that moved here from Vegas. While those guys are all amazing and I’d trust with them with my life, Saint and I bonded since we were the newbies at the time.
Kynan then points to the stunning brunette sitting on the other side of Bebe. “All of you know Dr. Corinne Ellery as she did each of your psych evaluations before you were offered employment here. I’m pleased to announce she’s going to be coming on board permanently with Jameson starting next month. For now, she’s winding up her psychiatric practice in D.C.”
“And what will the beautiful Dr. Ellery be doing, exactly?” Cage Murdock asks with a charming smile thrown her way, which she ignores. He’s one of the Vegas transplants.
“She’s going to be making sure all of you stay in top mental health, especially given some of the traumatic shit we’re going to be getting ourselves into.”
At the solid reminder we do dangerous missions, the mischievous grin slides off Cage’s face.
“Corinne will have regular visitation hours and an office on this floor. Utilize her services freely, and don’t make me send you.”
Nervous laughter sounds around the table.
“The guy on the end with the ‘high and tight’ is going to be joining us in a few weeks,” Kynan continues as he points to a man who’s clearly active duty. “That’s Malik Fournier, and he just got out of the Marine Corps—2nd Recon. He’s going to spend a few weeks with family before starting here at Jameson.”
I study the man. Late twenties, I’d guess, with dark hair and hazel eyes. He’s special forces, and I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s seen some pretty sketchy shit. He catches my gaze and gives me a slight nod, which I return.
Welcome aboard, dude. We’ll do beers, too.
“Some of you might know Malik’s famous hockey brothers,” Kynan continues in his crisp, British accent.
“Fournier?” Cage drawls in hesitant but hopeful surprise. “As in Max and Lucas Fournier?”
Malik grins as he nods at Cage.
“Holy fucking shit,” Cage explodes, giving a Southern holler of glee as he bangs his fist on the table. Corinne Ellery about jumps out of her seat. “The Carolina Cold Fury is my hockey team. Mine! Two-time Stanley Cup Champions, baby.”
Kynan shrugs. “I wouldn’t know about that shit. We don’t have bloody hockey where I’m from.”
Everyone laughs because Kynan’s been in the States long enough to know what ice hockey is, and he sure as hell should have heard about the Cold Fury. They’re looking good for a three-peat championship this year, but they might just get upset by the new franchise team in the league, the Arizona Vengeance.
In fact, that seems to be what everyone’s chattering about now. Kynan only lets it go on for about three seconds before he’s banging his hand on the table to get quiet again.
“You can talk hockey with Malik later,” he grumbles, then gives his attention to the dark-haired woman sitting next to me. “But for now, we’ve got some new tech to discuss, so I’ll turn it over to Bebe.”