Chapter 3
“Fine. But nothing in pink. That color does nothing for me.” With a toss of my hair, I left the room with the file they’d given me earlier, laughter following me as I sashayed down the hallway to my office, if you could actually call it such. It was a glorified cubicle, really, but at least I had a view of the skyline from where I sat at my desk.
I checked my emails quickly, wrote up my report and went over the last-minute assignment once more so I knew my part in tonight’s takedown. M.A.L.E., which stood for Mavericks, Assassins, Loners, Etc., had been Jackson’s brainchild. We’d all met in the army, and as different as we were personality-wise, we’d all clicked. Surviving bombs and killing insurgents tended to create a strong bond.