The Gauntlet Assassin Read Online Free PDF Page A

afraid of germs—and sized him up. Five-ten and bulky with muscle, his face had rugged features and sun-weathered skin.
    “Lara Evans, competing for Oregon.”
    “Oh yes, the paramedic who kickboxes.” He nodded his approval. “I researched you, of course.”
    “You’re an ex-Marine and current firefighter.” She’d done her homework on the other competitors as well. They reached the third floor and the elevator doors opened. “Best wishes to both of us,” Lara said, stepping out.
    “See you at orientation.” Copeland gave a little wave.
    Save it for the cameras, Lara thought, walking away. Still, she was pleased he’d been friendly. She’d braced herself for a dog-eat-dog competitive atmosphere with contestants practicing psychological warfare.
    At room 308, she let herself in, happy to see a small suite with two bedrooms and a sitting area. Thank goodness, she would have some privacy. She passed through the foyer and was immediately engulfed in cloud of perfume. Oh crap. Her roommate had already checked in and was seated in front of the built-in NetCom, chatting loudly. She was an Amazon, with a long blonde braid and chiseled cheekbones. Double crap. Exactly the kind of contestant she didn’t want to be standing next to in front of the cameras.
    Her roommate glanced over, held up her hand, and said to the monitor, “I should go. Call me again later.” She turned to Lara. “I’m Kirsten Dornberg from Florida.”
    “Lara Evans, Oregon.”
    “What did I read about you?” Kirsten touched a long finger to her lips. “Oh yeah, you’re an ex-cop and a marathon runner.”
    “Yes. Nice to meet you.” Lara forced herself to smile. “Which bedroom is mine?”
    Kirsten pointed to the one on the left. “They’re exactly the same, so my getting here early wasn’t an advantage.”
    That was more like the competitive element she’d expected. “Excuse me. I need to unpack.”
    As she lifted her suitcase and unzipped it, Lara’s headache intensified. She clamped her jaw and marched back into the sitting area. “I don’t want to get off to a bad start, but I’m allergic to perfume and you can’t wear it in our shared space.”
    Kirsten’s face froze. “That seems a little excessive.”
    “I’m sorry, but it makes me physically ill, and the contest rules explicitly say no smoking or perfume in the hotel rooms.”
    Her roommate waved a dismissive hand. “I’m already wearing it, so there’s nothing I can do about it today.”
    “Please wash it off. It’s giving me a headache.” Lara’s capacity for diplomacy was exhausted.
    “Seriously?” Kirsten rolled her eyes.
    “I’ll ask for another room assignment.” Lara turned to grab her stuff and leave.
    “You don’t have to.” Kirsten stood and moved toward the bathroom. “I’ve already asked to be reassigned once and I don’t want to piss off the director. I’ll go wash.” Her tone and movements pulsed with irritation.
    Lara hurried over to the small window, desperate for some fresh air, but like most new buildings, the glass didn’t open. Damn. The room reeked and even if Kirsten stopped wearing the spray-on chemical, it would be days before the stink cleared.
    Lara waited for her roommate to exit the bathroom, then went in to rinse out her nostrils. Inhaling water burned like hell, but it was temporary and the only way to clean the perfume oils out of her sinuses. Once the competition began, she needed to be one hundred percent. Any discomfort could make the split-second difference in winning and losing a round. A headache could make her scowl, and a single frown could turn viewers against her. In the Challenge, with a simple vote via their preferred device, viewers could make or break a contestant by determining the level of difficulty for each phase. The ability to affect the contest pulled in millions of pay-per-view voters from around the globe, but it could be hell on the contestants.
    Lara glanced at herself in the mirror, and in