Chapter One
This was wrong. It was all wrong. Another few minutes, and this entire combined team of
FInCOM agents and Navy SEALs was going to be torn to bits.
There was a small army of terrorists out there in the steamy July night. The Ts or tangos, as
the SEALs were fond of calling them were waiting on their arrival with assault rifles that were
as powerful as the weapon P. J. Richards clutched in her sweating hands.
P.J. tried to slow her pounding heart, tried to make the adrenaline that was streaming through
her system work for her rather than against her as she crept through the darkness.
FInCOM Agent Tim Farber was calling the shots, but Farber was a city boy and a fool, to
boot. He didn't know squat about moving through the heavy underbrush of this kind of
junglelike terrain. Of course, P.J. was a fine one to be calling names. Born in D.C., she'd been
raised on concrete and crumbling ...
read full excerpt from Harvard's Education ebook
