Hearths of Fire Read Online Free PDF

two men she met weren’t the right fit, although that didn’t mean they weren’t good at what they did. Red had always claimed she was too selective.
    Opening the car door, Catori swung her denim-clad legs out of the vehicle and placed her sensible knee-high flat boots onto the graveled dirt. Much to her dismay, she’d ended up having to wear something else besides flip-flops and her issued boots. Knowing she should be presentable, she still chose something comfortable. Her black form-fitting blazer contained a thin belt, which she straightened before slamming her car door. The way the bottom of her coat flared over her waist it was easy to carry her Sig Sauer 9mm M11-A1 in a RHS Paddle holster on her right hip.
    The only sounds to carry through the air were the rocks shifting under her weight and a bird cawing on a power line. The place seemed uninhabited, yet the bubbly blonde waitress at the diner in town said that Trigger would be here.
    Walking to the tattered painted black door where the top window contained a diagonal crack within its structure, Catori tried the handle but found it locked. She rapped on the glass. When no one appeared, she wiped off the grime of dirt on the pane with her fist. Inside looked deserted, with a cluttered office directly in front of her and an empty stall to her right. The one farther down contained a heap of metal and she wasn’t so sure what the make and model was. Shit, she wasn’t sure it could be restored.
    Taking a step back, Catori looked to her left and then to her right. She glanced back over her shoulder toward the long stretch of road and saw the oils of the blacktop surface rising as it baked in the sun. It was boiling out here and she wanted this meeting finalized so she could complete her drive to Missouri by nightfall. Deciding to go around back, she was walking along the side of the garage when she heard a growl that stopped her in her tracks.
    “Good boy,” Catori said in a soothing tone in hopes that the large German Shepherd remained calm. The beautiful animal was standing toward the back of the building, his brown eyes riveted to her. She stayed where she was, not wanting to give the dog any reason to attack. “I’m friendly, Shep. No threat here.”
    “Diesel, down.” The deep raspy voice that had given the order belonged to a man with a lean muscular form, not quite six feet tall. He wore a baseball cap twisted on backwards and he was wiping grease from his hands with an oil rag. His black shaggy hair immediately gave away that this was the man she was looking for. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
    “You can if you’re John ‘Trigger’ Dixon.”
    Catori waited for the Shepherd to sit back on his hunches. She didn’t comment on the dog’s name, however apropos it might be considering he guarded a mechanic’s garage. From what her research suggested, Dixon worked for Mac. The older man was on the verge of retirement and he’d given a job to John upon arriving back home from his deployment. The former military man had to be ready to pull his hair out, no matter how striking it might be.
    “Trigger?” John casually looked down at her waist where her weapon rested before going back to removing the grease from his fingers. “You’re military. I think you’ve come to the wrong place. I’ve done my duty to my country, ma’am. With the amount of metal in my left arm, I’m not really needed anymore.”
    “I would disagree with that statement.” Catori could see the interest in his brown eyes, so she continued with her inquiry. There was something in his demeanor that struck a chord with her. Chemistry was vital when working with others in a life and death situation. She liked this man. “Your close combat maneuvers are outstanding. That kind of talent shouldn’t be wasted.”
    “It’s not a skill that’s often used in the civilian world.” Trigger stuck his rag in his back pocket before crossing his arms and leaning up against the cinder blocks.