X by J. D. Glass

Author:J. D. Glass
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Computer Hackers, High Tech, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Science Fiction, Romantic Suspense Fiction, Suspense, Lesbians, Biotechnology, Erotica, Crime, Lesbian
ISBN: 9781602820487
Publisher: Bella Distribution
Published: 2009-02-02T05:00:00+00:00

The program is running. Exit anyway? (y or n)

Synchronicity

She knew, as she’d texted rapid-made plans with equipment requests, slung the pager on her belt, and searched for what she needed through the apartment, that there would never be enough time to scramble a team to get them out to Charli in time, or at least before they reached Plum Island, and she knew timing was everything. No field operative had clean hands for very long, and Romello had quite the kill list in addition to the rest of his accomplishments. Yes, technically she was no longer an active outside operative, but there was too much at stake here for her to sit idly by. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d never been part of a recon or extraction team before—and she’d performed admirably, even if she did say so herself. Besides, weren’t those successes the reason she’d been pulled into a different sector? She was grateful that her handler had agreed—because she knew she would have gone on her own.

Plum Island had some quirky security—she’d known she needed to be creative and had to go a little lo-tech, at least on the approach. She would have had to anyway; returning to her apartment was not an option, especially since she was aware that she had two hours or possibly less before the Treas was on her. When she considered how quickly Romello’s operation with Charli had gone down, she’d also known there simply wasn’t enough time to gear up at the Smith’s Point safe house.

She’d gone through Charli’s apartment. The wet suit, her surfboard, her PDA, her laptop. That had been enough to start. She paged her handler with the info she had, the plans she’d made, and the list of equipment she needed.

A car had been dropped off for her use fifteen minutes later, and it had what she’d expected: the tools she required, and more importantly, weapons.

Now, not quite two hours later, she was waiting at the shore off Greenpoint for the tide to turn, for the flow tide, the very beginning of the returning rush of water, that would help her get onto the island.

This particular spot of Long Island Sound had a nickname among those who depended on it: the Race. The mouth of the Sound had a vicious rip and current—it made for great kayaking, but dangerous surfing and even more dangerous swimming.

There was also the report she’d been forwarded, brief but thorough: radar, sonar, and cameras running offshore, but no infrared or motion on the perimeter. The reason listed was harbor seals; they made it their home, and there were other animals, including deer, left to roam wild on the rest of the island that had been left as a preserve.

Since this part of the Sound was actively commercially trafficked—mostly by tugs and barges, recreational kayakers, some braver surfers, and Jet Skiers—there were no water patrols for her to be concerned with.

A recent strike by both the security team as well as the

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