Mission: Out of Control Read Online Free PDF

sing, too—we’ll sing together.”
    â€œTrouble, trouble, I’ve had it all my days; it seems like trouble going to follow me to my grave.”
    Ronie pulled her cell phone from her pocket and opened her picture file. She scrolled through the thumbnails, intending to stop on Savannah.
    Instead, she clicked open Kafara’s picture. Chubby, dark cheeks, a white smile, holding out a pineapple for her right before he cut it in half with his machete. How he loved to bring her treats from his village. She ran her thumb over the photo. Don’t give up on me, Kafara. Because I’m not giving up on you.
    She pocketed the phone, found a tune, something from the past. Let the wind take her song.
    â€œWhich hair?” Brody’s smug expression, especially after he’d caught the roll, made her push off, start to swing.
    Game on, indeed. Yes, he would rue the day he’d agreed to stand in her way.

THREE
    B rody Wickham didn’t run from crazy. He didn’t care what costume Vonya appeared in, what outrageous request she made of him. Didn’t care how many times she asked him for a macchiato coffee or food from the craft table. He’d keep on informing her he wasn’t a butler—he hadn’t been hired to carry her shoes or protect her delicate skin from the harsh sunlight.
    And to think the gig hadn’t even officially started, although the week spent in New York City watching her rehearse had him second-guessing this gig every day. He couldn’t wait for the weekend leave when he’d return to D.C. and check in on his family before leaving for Europe.
    Brody Wickham fully planned to outlast her. Figure her out. Win at whatever game they happened to be playing in her head. After all, how was he supposed to protect her if he couldn’t predict her moves? She certainly wasn’t going to make it easy by, say, cooperating.
    She made him want to bang his own head against something hard and cold. Whose brain-dead idea had it been to earn a quick 100K anyway?
    â€œThank you, Brody.” His mother’s face when hehanded her a portion of the prepayment of services after returning from the meeting with Senator Wagner. He hadn’t expected it to feel so good to help his parents.
    Or to know that they wouldn’t lose the family home.
    Or give his brother a shot at a decent education.
    And, truthfully, Ronyika—as he’d taken to calling her—did intrigue him.
    After all, he’d never seen anyone wearing giant wings during a pop song before, even if watching her dangle fifteen feet on a trapeze swing off the ground as if she might be flying nearly gave him chest pains. Today her hair was baby-boy blue, an almost clownish mop of curls atop her head. And she wore a black Batman mask, perhaps just in case anyone mistook her for the sugarplum fairy.
    In truth, she scared him a little with how quickly she morphed from high-society Veronica to Vampy Vonya.
    â€œIs she schizophrenic? Maybe suffering from multiple personality disorder?” He hadn’t exactly meant to say that aloud, but perhaps his disbelief at watching her suspend herself from the ceiling as the fog machine filled up the stage simply overtook his brain and he accidentally went audible with his opinion.
    Her manager looked up at him and shook his head. “No, she’s brilliant.”
    â€œTommy D” D’Amico reminded him of a man who might greet him at a frat party. Or a used-car sales lot. A full head of blond curly hair, eyes that didn’t retain his quick smile, the fast handshake. Shiny alligator shoes that probably cost half Brody’s yearly income. Whathad Senator Wagner said about someone skimming her profits?
    Brody had done a background check on Tommy first, followed by Leah, her pretty assistant. If the black-haired whirlwind gained about sixty pounds of muscle and grew a foot, she just might give Brody a run for his money with all the hovering she