Into the Storm Read Online Free PDF

apparently been intercepted midway through her quest to see the Wizard and finally get a brain.
    Cleverly, Lindsey didn’t say
that
aloud.
    “Have a seat,” Tom ordered in that easygoing way he had of making a demand sound like an invitation.
    She sat. Jenkins sat, too.
    Tom Paoletti was the best boss Lindsey had ever had. Not only was he good-looking in that Captain-Picard-make-it-so, bald-men-can-be-sexy way, but he was also smart and unbelievably kind.
    Maybe too kind. Lindsey made a mental note to offer to volunteer to fire Tracy for him. After the past few years she’d had, firing someone would be a cakewalk. She wouldn’t even blink.
    She’d mention that to Tom later, when Mark Jenkins wasn’t around.
    “We’re going to be playing the part of Red Cell—the terrorists—in a training op with SEAL Team Sixteen,” Tom told her now. “Jenk is going to be liaison as we work out the logistics.”
    “Really.” Lindsey looked at the SEAL. “How…”
Convenient,
she was about to say, since his being liaison would give him even more access to Tracy. Except, Tracy was not a multi-tasker, and his distracting presence would be far less convenient for everyone else in the office. She, for one, was extremely tired of answering the phones because Tracy had managed to screw up the voice mail system again. “Interesting,” she said instead, because they were both waiting for her to finish her sentence.
    Day-am, the freckles across Jenk’s nose were positively adorable, especially when he frowned. Combined with those hazel eyes, rimmed by thick, dark lashes…
    He was beyond cute, but it was probably in a way that he himself hated. Baby-faced cute. His mouth tightened slightly, because he misunderstood her comment.
Interesting….
“I’m twenty-eight years old.”
    “Oh,” she said. “No, I wasn’t—”
    “You were wondering,” Jenk said. “I could see that you were wondering, so…Now you know. I’m old enough to vote.”
    “Actually, I wasn’t wondering.” Lindsey glanced at Tom, who smiled, apparently in no hurry to talk about that training op. Red Cell. That was going to be some kind of fun. “I mean, I was earlier, but then I did the math, figuring that you probably went to college and then…I had you at more like thirty, if you want to know the truth.”
    She’d surprised him. “You really thought…?”
    She shrugged. “Hey. Without makeup, I look about twelve.”
    He looked at her—really looked.
    “Being flat-chested helps with the illusion,” she said. “I’m five feet and three-eighths of an inch tall—you better believe I count every eighth. I’m also the same age as my bra size—30A. The A is for my four-oh average at UCLA, which I attended before my seven years with the LAPD.” She smiled at him. “I’m one of Tom’s best bodyguards, by the way. I specialize in the protection of people who might not want their friends, business associates, and/or enemies to know they’re being protected. Because I could tell that
you
were wondering.” She’d stunned him, so she turned to Tom who was now flat-out grinning. “Red Cell, huh? So you called me in here, boss, because you want me to play the part of Dr. Evil, the terrorist mastermind, right?”
    Lindsey liked Tom for a lot of reasons, but particularly because she made him laugh. Some people didn’t get her sense of humor, although Cutie-pie Jenkins seemed to be on the same page after he’d shaken off his shock.
    “Sorry, I’m the terrorist mastermind of this one,” Tom told her. “It was a direct request from Admiral Tucker.”
    Ah. “Which makes me…” She let her voice trail off. “Mini Me?”
    Tom laughed again. “Tempting, but no. Not quite.”
    Uh-oh. “Please don’t say that I’m—”
    He spoke in unison with her. “The hostage.”
    Lindsey stared at him.
    “Someone’s got to be the hostage,” Tom pointed out, undaunted by her scathing disbelief.
    “Yeah, but come on. How realistic is it for the hostage