The Killing Hour
Chapter One
Quantico, Virginia
3:59 p.m.
Temperature: 95 degrees
"God, it's hot. Cacti couldn't take this kind of heat. Desert rock couldn't take
this kind of heat. I'm telling you, this is what happened right before dinosaurs
disappeared from the Earth."
No response.
"You really think orange is my color?" the driver tried again.
"Really is a strong word."
"Well, not everyone can make a statement in purple plaid."
"True."
"Man-oh-man, is this heat killing me!" The driver, New Agent Alissa Sampson, had
had enough. She tugged futilely on her 1970s polyester suit, smacked the
steering wheel with the palm of her hand, then blew out an exasperated breath.
It was ninety-five outside, probably one hundred and ten inside the Bucar. Not
great weather for polyester suits. For that matter, it didn't work wonders for
bulletproof vests. Alissa's suit bled bright orange stains under her arms. New
Agent Kimberly Quincy's own mothball-scented pink-and-purple plaid suit didn't
look much better.
Outside the car, the street was quiet. Nothing happening at Billiards; nothing
happening at City Pawn; n ... read full excerpt from: The Killing Hour ebook
