Upside Down Read Online Free PDF Page A

fugitive recovery, but no matter how many fugitives he apprehended, Winter Massey would always be best known for his ability with a handgun.
    Over a year had passed since Winter had been wounded. At that time his reputation had been such that he could have chosen to head up any marshals office in the country or have any position near the top of the United States Marshals Service organizational chart he wanted. The name Winter Massey had been golden, but now he was burned out on playing cops and robbers.
    Doctors said the dead spots in his leg and foot would regain sensation and his circulation would vastly improve in time. At thirty-seven, he could still run ten miles without breaking a sweat, but he would never again compete in an Ironman contest. Considering all he had been through in his career as a deputy U.S. marshal, just being alive put him among the luckiest people on earth.
    He had left I-85 and was on I-77 negotiating the sweeping left-hand turn when his cellular rang. As he straightened the Explorer's path, and with the Charlotte, North Carolina, skyline looming before him, he looked down at the displayed name and number.
    “Hey, old man,” he said, after opening the phone.
    “Just a courtesy call to remind you about lunch,” Hank said.
    “Sean said she'd be finished at her doctor's in the BB&T building by eleven,” Winter replied. “I'm about six minutes out on I-77.”
    As he hung up, his cellular phone rang again. He didn't check the caller I.D. “Yeah?”
    “
Yeah
what, Massey?”
    Winter smiled at the sound of his wife's voice.
    “So, what did Dr. Wanda say?” he asked. Sean hadn't been feeling well for a couple of weeks, and Winter had finally convinced her to visit his doctor, a youthful blonde with an enthusiasm, an infectious smile, and a talent for making everybody feel like they were her only patient.
    “Dr. Wanda said, ‘Get dressed, you perfectly healthy young lady,' and she wrote me a prescription to head over to the café for lunch with my favorite man.”
    “What about the—?”
    “Jesus, Massey. I'm fine. Okay? Did you finish the letter?”
    “I did.” He glanced at the console to the letter addressed to the director of the United States Marshals Service—a letter he had spent a week drafting to make sure the tone was perfectly pitched, respectful, and that the resignation it announced was clearly stated. Everybody understood his decision and there were no hard feelings or regrets. The letter was a formality, because he had already told the director, Richard Shapiro, that he was going to accept the offer from Guardian International Security. The company had offered him an enormous salary, yearly stock options, and about a hundred attractive perquisites they figured were necessary to close the deal. Winter would have been insane not to take the executive position that would allow him to lock his carry weapon away in his gun safe. Sean, who knew how dangerous his job had become, had been deliriously happy when he made the decision.
    “I can't wait to get you on the slopes and teach you how to ski,” she said. “You're gonna love it.”
    “I know how to ski,” he said.
    “Water skiing isn't the same thing as snow skiing, Massey.”
    “You teach me to snow ski and I'll teach you a thing or two in the chalet.”
    Her laughter was glorious.
    Although Sean and Winter had only been married for eight months, he felt as though he had known her his entire life. They had met when Winter joined a witness protection detail and was charged with protecting a professional killer who was going to testify against an aging mobster. Sean had been married to the killer, and when the operation turned deadly and went as wrong as things can go, it had been Sean Devlin whose life needed protecting and only Winter who had been in a position to save her. That had happened a little over a year before. After their shared experiences—each having trusted the other and after each had saved the other's