Codename: Nightshade (Deadly Seven Strike Force) Read Online Free PDF Page B

anything.”
    “You saw my underwear,” I say, washing my hands. My cheeks flame, and I want to knee him in the crotch so hard right now.
    “Aye, but my eyes stopped there.” He holds up three fingers. "Scott's honor."
    There’s this thing about being female in the military that I never understood until I was recruited. That whole you’re-one-of-the-guys thing. I’ve met my fair share of assholes who really do look just because they feel entitled. And I’ve beat those bastards into a pulp. But for the most part, I really am just one of the guys. Claymore would have done that to Ace just as easily as he did it to me. I’ve walked around naked through the co-ed barracks before. It doesn’t faze me. I’m not blushing right now because he saw my pants down.
    I’m blushing because I don’t like being caught off guard.
    “I do have to say I’m rather impressed, though,” he says, further digging his own grave when we exit the bathroom. I don’t acknowledge his taunt, but he’s undeterred. “I’m shocked you pee sitting down.”
    That’s twice now in the past twelve hours that these men have told me they figure I’m carrying a dick. I take it as the compliment it’s meant to be.
    He escorts me to the main office. I let him talk to the man with a clipboard who will work up the report for the council meeting. My attention is drawn to the television mounted on the wall as CNN plays. It’s hard to believe I’m looking at the same city I was standing in a few hours ago. Doha has erupted in hysteria. Buildings are on fire and people are running in the streets, ducking for cover from bullets.
    Rebel groups have seized the opportunity, taking advantage of Pishkar’s death. I recognize the guns clutched in the hands of the men chasing innocent people into the doorways of the tall buildings that make up downtown.
    I held one of those guns recently.
    “Do you have anything to add?” the man with the clipboard asks, and Claymore elbows my side when I don’t respond.
    I shake my head. “I’m sure he got it all to the letter.”
    We sit in a pair of green plastic chairs as we wait for the time to roll around to four o'clock.
    “You really think this was better for the people?” Claymore asks. His knife is back out, spinning and flipping in the air between us.
    “I think the man deserved what he got. A heart attack was too merciful.”
    Claymore snorts. “Look at you being all Hand of God and the like. It’s not our job to deem how they go, just to get them there.”
    Spoken like a true soldier. And I agree with him entirely, but I have no doubt that in a little over thirty minutes, the council will be thanking me for my decision.
    We sit, and I continue to watch the scene unfolding in Doha. I wonder what that kid on the bus last night is doing today. I hope he’s safe.
    “The Commander’s in a right mood today, as you’ve seen.”
    I nod. “The man’s name is Justice. He was born in a mood.”
    “Aye. I sometimes wonder how he would have handled the Comrade. He wasn’t one for the paperwork, either.”
    Comrade . My heart hurts at the mention of that name, but the clearing of a throat distracts me.
    “The council is ready for her,” the man at the counter says.
    We walk down a bright white hallway. The buzz of fluorescent lights hums overhead. I’ve walked down halls like this one too many times for me to count. The first time was at the age of seventeen, when a total stranger walked into my life and changed it forever.
    Nikolai Zolkov—codename: Comrade.
    He recruited me personally, assuring the council that my age and immaturity wouldn’t play any factor in my training. He told them I had the right stuff.
    Out of the corner of my eye, I see Claymore assessing me. He might question my thought process, but I know he believes what Nikolai believed.
    I’m meant for this job.
    Claymore’s not invited to the meeting. He stops at the door, waving for me to go. I offer him one last glance before opening