M. L. BUCHMAN http://www.mlbuchman.com Romance / Romantic Suspense / F&SF / Thrillers Wed, 21 Sep 2016 16:02:20 +0000 en-US hourly 1 Recent & Coming Soon! http://www.mlbuchman.com/recent-coming-soon/ Tue, 20 Sep 2016 15:00:24 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=17676 Novels and Novellas “Ides of Matt” Stories (free right here on the 14th-20th each month)

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Novels and Novellas

“Ides of Matt” Stories

(free right here on the 14th-20th each month)

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Free Fiction on the 14th: Night and Day http://www.mlbuchman.com/free-fiction-14th-night-day/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/free-fiction-14th-night-day/#respond Wed, 14 Sep 2016 04:00:58 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18436 The Ides of Matt: A free short story, every month from the 14th-20th.  If you missed this month’s, this exciting new Night Stalkers CSAR tale is still for sale!   Also don’t miss for the first time in a stand-alone story!   RECENT SHORT STORIES   Don’t Miss A Single Treat! Sign up for my newsletter … Continue reading Free Fiction on the 14th: Night and Day

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The Ides of Matt:
A free short story,
every month from the 14th-20th.

 If you missed this month’s, this exciting new Night Stalkers CSAR tale is still for sale!

 

Night and Day

Night and Day

Combat Search and Rescue is the most dangerous job a helicopter pilot can fly. Almost as dangerous as falling in love. More info →
Buy now!
Also don’t miss for the first time in a stand-alone story!
NSDQ

NSDQ

Combat Search and Rescue is the most dangerous job a helicopter pilot can fly. Almost as dangerous as falling in love. More info →
Buy now!

 

RECENT SHORT STORIES

 

Don’t Miss A Single Treat! Sign up for my newsletter now!

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2 Great Opportunities! http://www.mlbuchman.com/2-great-opportunities/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/2-great-opportunities/#respond Mon, 12 Sep 2016 15:00:07 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18426 Books We Can Believe In! You think political thrillers are too crazy to happen…watched the news lately? Buy some common sense! Ten great political thrillers from such masters of the craft as Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Allen Drury, and ME! (Along with some other great folks that I’m reading voraciously at this very moment!) Have you … Continue reading 2 Great Opportunities!

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Books We Can Believe In!

politicalthrillerad2016-1200

You think political thrillers are too crazy to happen…watched the news lately?

Buy some common sense!

Ten great political thrillers from such masters of the craft as Kristine Kathryn Rusch, Allen Drury, and ME! (Along with some other great folks that I’m reading voraciously at this very moment!)

Have you been meaning to check out my thrillers? Now is your chance to grab my first one as part of this great set of them!

http://storybundle.com/politics

Grab it now before it goes away!


#2 It’s also the last day to enter a chance to win 35 novels of “Strong Women in Fantasy”

(or an Amazon Kindle)

SU-Fantasy-Buchman

So jump now while you still have a chance!

http://big.ly/fallfantasy

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Cool Contest: 35 titles of Strong Women in Fantasy! http://www.mlbuchman.com/cool-contest-35-titles-strong-women-fantasy/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/cool-contest-35-titles-strong-women-fantasy/#respond Mon, 05 Sep 2016 15:44:55 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18406 Enter for a chance to win 35 great! end of summer fantasy reads about powerful women…or even a Kindle Fire! Haven’t read my Cookbook From Hell: Reheated? Here’s a chance to win one.  Jump aboard by September 13th at: bit.ly/fallfantasy  Or just grab a copy now!  

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Enter for a chance to win 35 great! end of summer fantasy reads about powerful women…or even a Kindle Fire!

Haven’t read my Cookbook From Hell: Reheated? Here’s a chance to win one.  Jump aboard by September 13th at:

bit.ly/fallfantasy 

SU-Fantasy-Buchman

Or just grab a copy now!

Cookbook from Hell: Reheated

Cookbook from Hell: Reheated

Author:
Series: Deities Anonymous, Deities Anonymous Novels, Book 1
Genres: Fantasy, SF&F
Tag: Novel
Publication Year: 2013
ASIN: B00DVPOR28
ISBN: 9781496143433
After 14 billion years of cleaning up after God, the Devil is having a mid-life crisis. Before she can settle into a proper state of self pity, a Buddhist Hungry Ghost steals the Software that Runs the Universe, and it all goes to Hell from there.
View Book Sample
Buy now!

Overview

When God cheats at Scrabble, does Hell freeze over?

After 14 billion years of cleaning up after God, the Devil descends into a mid-life crisis. Before she can settle into that perfect state of self-pity, a Buddhist Hungry Ghost steals the Software that Runs the Universe. And it all goes to Hell from there.

She quickly assembles her crisis team:

  • St. Peter – hacked his way out of Purgatory, been running Heaven ever since
  • Valerie – a Seattle cookbook editor, changed forever by the Cookbook from Hell
  • Eric – her IT guy, now sees his formidable boss in a whole new light
  • Henrietta – a foot-tall angel with a talking disorder—she never shuts up
  • The Librarian from Hell
  • Assorted demons, angels, philosophers, and other persons both dead and living

From the Pacific Northwest, to Hell, Heaven, and back. Let the race to stop Armageddon begin.

Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Other Books in "Deities Anonymous Novels":

 

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New Release: Keepsake for Eagle Cove http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-keepsake/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-keepsake/#respond Tue, 30 Aug 2016 15:00:26 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18379 This exciting new release completes the Eagle Cove contemporary romance series and shouldn’t be missed if you love, or have dreamed about the Oregon Coast. In celebration of the complete series, there will also be a collected set available at a few select vendors of “The Complete Eagle Cove.” So if you haven’t started the … Continue reading New Release: Keepsake for Eagle Cove

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This exciting new release completes the Eagle Cove contemporary romance series and shouldn’t be missed if you love, or have dreamed about the Oregon Coast.

In celebration of the complete series, there will also be a collected set available at a few select vendors of “The Complete Eagle Cove.” So if you haven’t started the series yet, that offers another great way to dig in.

Keepsake for Eagle Cove

Keepsake for Eagle Cove

The small town of Eagle Cove lies far out on the Oregon Coast. Tiffany hides a past that could save her future. More info →
Buy now!
The Complete Eagle Cove

The Complete Eagle Cove

Come take a romantic walk through four seasons on the Oregon Coast. Four novels and a short story make five great romances. More info →
Buy now!

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Fun Interview on Authors on the Air Radio! http://www.mlbuchman.com/fun-interview-authors-air-radio/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/fun-interview-authors-air-radio/#comments Sun, 28 Aug 2016 15:58:01 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18394 M.L.Buchman on Authors on the Air radio (click to listen) Pam Stark and I had a great time talking about the origins of some of my series, a bicycle trip around the world, the writing process, and why I’m so fascinated by strong women. It’s a fun listen!

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M.L.Buchman on Authors on the Air radio (click to listen)

Pam Stark and I had a great time talking about the origins of some of my series, a bicycle trip around the world, the writing process, and why I’m so fascinated by strong women. It’s a fun listen!

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Sale: Return to Eagle Cove just $0.99 http://www.mlbuchman.com/sale-return-eagle-cove-just-0-99/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/sale-return-eagle-cove-just-0-99/#respond Wed, 24 Aug 2016 15:07:34 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18384 Thru Sept 4th! In celebration of the upcoming release of the final book in the Eagle Cove series, Keepsake for Eagle Cove, on August 30th, the first book is on sale at most vendors for just $0.99! Grab it quick!

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Thru Sept 4th!

In celebration of the upcoming release of the final book in the Eagle Cove series, Keepsake for Eagle Cove, on August 30th, the first book is on sale at most vendors for just $0.99! Grab it quick!

Return to Eagle Cove

Return to Eagle Cove

The small town of Eagle Cove lies far out on the Oregon Coast. Her mother’s fourth wedding to her father changes Jessica’s life in ways her heart never imagined. More info →
Buy now!

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New Release: The Me and Elsie Chronicles (and Jen too) http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-elsie-chronicles/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-elsie-chronicles/#respond Tue, 23 Aug 2016 15:00:45 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18364 The post New Release: The Me and Elsie Chronicles (and Jen too) appeared first on M. L. BUCHMAN.

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The Me and Elsie Chronicles (and Jen too)

The Me and Elsie Chronicles (and Jen too)

Author:
Series: Single Titles, Story Collections, Book 2
Genres: Science Fiction, SF&F
Tag: Bundle
Publication Year: 2016
ASIN: B01KG8RO8Q
ISBN: 9781945740039
After spendin’ bunch a time haulin’ cargo in space. My best friend Jen tole me to write down a passel of my stories. I did. Here they be. Hope y’all like ‘em.
Buy now!

Overview

-a Me and Elsie story collection-

Here’s some stories I writ down. Done it ’cause my best friend Jen said I oughta—what with us being some of the first gals to haul cargo ’cross the black reaches of the Up’n’up and all. She said I should put in some of the wisdom I learnt from Pap too ’cause he raised me up so fine. I always do what she says what with her being so smart and all.

So here’s some of how I got my first ship Elsie. There’s some of how me and Jen was flyin’ for Planetary Engineering, workin’ them space lanes, and other bits ’bout the wonderful kinda men we met up with while stopping off at Tycho Tavern, Low-Gee Lounge on Mars, and the Europa LaunchPub (one a my personal-type favorites).

Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Other Books in "Story Collections":

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Free Fiction on the 14th: Love Behind the Lines http://www.mlbuchman.com/free-fiction-14th-love-behind-lines/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/free-fiction-14th-love-behind-lines/#respond Sun, 14 Aug 2016 03:30:03 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18288 The Ides of Matt: A free short story, every month from the 14th-20th. (Come back next month for another free short story.) LOVE BEHIND THE LINES is still available for purchase.  

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The Ides of Matt:
A free short story,
every month from the 14th-20th.

(Come back next month for another free short story.)

LOVE BEHIND THE LINES is still available for purchase.

Love Behind the Lines

Love Behind the Lines

Author:
Series: The Night Stalkers, The Night Stalkers 5E, The Night Stalkers 5E Stories, Book 1
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Tag: Short Story
Publication Year: 2016
ASIN: 1945740027
ISBN: 9781945740022
The 5E ranks as the most extreme company ever to fly for the Night Stalkers. This time, getting shot down inside Russian Crimea is only the start of the adventure.
Buy now!

Overview

-a Night Stalkers 5E romance story-

Lieutenant “Manny” Malcolm’s mission: Extract an embedded CIA agent from deep inside Russian Crimea. When a missile blows up his helicopter, it’s a whole new mission.

Alisa, Irina, Lyudmila… After wearing so many identities, does her true self even still exist? Betrayed by a trusted contact, her new assignment—survival!

Only together can they find Love Behind the Lines.

Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."

 

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New Release: Heart Strike http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-heart-strike/ http://www.mlbuchman.com/new-release-heart-strike/#respond Fri, 05 Aug 2016 04:59:16 +0000 http://www.mlbuchman.com/?p=18269 Delta Force #2 is HERE! EXCERPT Richie Goldman eased back into the darkness. Most of the Bolivian farmworkers were sitting around the nightly campfire, eating their salteñas—meat-, veggie-, and quinoa-stuffed pastries. He’d learned to pretend that their food didn’t agree with him. It gave him an excuse to duck into the trees frequently, though he’d … Continue reading New Release: Heart Strike

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Delta Force #2 is HERE!
Heart Strike

Heart Strike

Author:
Series: Delta Force, Delta Force Team Carla & Kyle Novels, Book 2
Genre: Romantic Suspense
Tag: Novel
Publication Year: 2016
ASIN: 1492619256
ISBN: 9781492619253
This time the Delta Force team lands in it deep. Undercover, they're being hunted by the US Coast Guard, the Bahamian police, and most of Venezuela. The last thing they need? Their tech wizard flying head over bomb trigger for their newest fighter.
Buy now!

Overview

-a Delta Force romance-

SERGEANT RICHIE “Q” GOLDMAN
• Technical wizard, problem solver, warrior •

SERGEANT MELISSA “THE CAT” MOORE
• Newest on the team, determined to be the best •

Rescued from an icy mountaintop by a Delta operative, Melissa Moore has never found a challenge she can’t conquer: not only will she make Delta Force, she will be the best female warrior in The Unit, and woe to anyone who says otherwise.

Richie Goldman is Bond’s “Q” turned warrior. A genius about everything except women, he takes point on the team’s most dangerous mission yet. When the Delta Force team goes undercover in the depths of the Colombian jungle, surviving attacks from every side requires that Richie and Melissa strike right at the heart of the matter…and come out with their own hearts intact.

Disclosure of Material Connection: Some of the links in the page above are "affiliate links." This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, I will receive an affiliate commission. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: "Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising."
Other Books in "Delta Force Team Carla & Kyle Novels":

EXCERPT

Richie Goldman eased back into the darkness.

Most of the Bolivian farmworkers were sitting around the nightly campfire, eating their salteñas—meat-, veggie-, and quinoa-stuffed pastries. He’d learned to pretend that their food didn’t agree with him. It gave him an excuse to duck into the trees frequently, though he’d actually learned to enjoy the local food almost as much as a good New York pastrami on rye.

Some of the farmhands were idly chewing on a strip of charque de llama; the llama jerky lasted forever despite the jungle heat. Others chewed on coca leaves—little more than a low-grade stimulant in that form, and it grew in lush abundance all across the hillside above their camp. Refined cocaine was too valuable for mere farmers, but chewing the leaves was practically a national pastime. Street vendors had piles of them in all the cities.

Richie had tried it, thinking it would help him fit in, but found the taste so astringent that he had no problem just tucking it in his cheek and only pretending to chew. Others on his team had found similar tricks. Only Duane had flat-out declined, but his formidable silence made it so that he wasn’t an easy man to question. The locals let him be.

Once out of the firelight, Richie met up with Duane. That left the other three members of his Delta Force team—Chad, Carla, and the team leader, Kyle—still at the fire making sure that no one followed them into the darkness.

He and Duane spoke softly in Spanish about nothing in particular as they strolled along the edges of the coca fields they’d been working for the two weeks since their arrival. A thousand hectares, almost five square miles of coca plantation in this farm alone. They’d been building up to this one for six months; it represented almost five percent of Bolivia’s coca production. They’d be gone in a few more days.

And that would be the last day of this farm’s existence.

Only two more measurements to take. They strolled the edge of the field like a pair of hombres walking off the day. Their feet were nearly silent on the rich dirt. To one side was thick jungle, with no two trees alike. A massive kapok, a spindly palm, a fig tree that was bigger than the Goodyear blimp sitting on its butt were crowded together. Beneath them were banana, rubber, and a hundred other small trees he couldn’t identify in the dark, but the rich, loamy scent was lush with life. The leaves rustled, whether on the light breeze or due to some passing band of monkeys, he couldn’t tell. To the other side, there lay row upon neat row of man-tall coca bushes with their thick leaves ready for harvest.

When they reached the southwest corner of the main field, Richie ducked down low while Duane kept watch. He pulled a GPS tracker out of his boot, checked that he had a valid and stable reading, then recorded the numbers. He slipped it back into his boot and once more they were just two shadows strolling the line.

The two of them had originally bonded during the six-month training course for The Unit—as Delta Force operators commonly referred to themselves. They had discovered a shared inner nerd over various triggers for different types of explosives, which was Duane’s specialty. Being the team’s chief nerd was Richie’s specialty.

Duane’s deeply laconic nature made for a very lazy conversation, a rhythm which Richie had come to rather enjoy. It felt as if they blended better into the night that way—the occasional bat winging by with a quick brrrr of wings, the dry grass rustling against their calves, and two guys down on their luck sharing quiet commiseration.

Kyle and Carla were a couple now and it was rare to have a conversation with one and not the other. And any conversation involving Carla was more like a debate match than a conversation. The lady was intense. Amazing, beautiful, and incredible…but intense. And Kyle and Carla’s relationship was like that too. Richie had never seen anything like it, had never imagined it was possible. When the two of them were together, the day became brighter. His parents had always been his ideal of a good relationship, which was solid and stable, but Kyle and Carla made it look like a heck of a lot of fun too. For the first time, Richie was forced to recalibrate the standards of what he hoped for from his own future.

Chad, on the other hand, talked about women and nothing but. He thought women were great sport, and if he hadn’t been so successful with them, Richie would have discounted half of what he said. Chad somehow always ended up with the hot women and seemed to leave every one of them smiling; his successes were short-lived and he claimed that’s the way he wanted it. He just didn’t have the greatest conversational range on other topics.

Duane was the one most like Richie on the team. They came from professional backgrounds; they both had grown up in nice neighborhoods with good schools, corporate executive fathers, and involved mothers—Richie’s was a housewife who did a lot of entertaining in support of Dad’s job; Duane’s was a family-law attorney. It was almost like he and Duane were related, separated only by New York versus Georgia respectively and an entirely different hereditary line.

“I don’t know, brother,” Duane was saying. “How did Chad sweep up Mayra?” They spoke Spanish for both the practice and to protect their cover story.

It wasn’t typical of them to discuss women, but Mayra was the hottest, most-built Bolivian beauty they’d seen in the eleven coca farms they’d worked over the last six months. Their Delta team had been quietly roving the countryside, posing as itinerant workers—ex-pat Americans down on their luck. Their assignment had been to blend in, precisely map each field’s location, and then move on with no one the wiser.

“Chad makes it look so easy.” Richie didn’t exactly envy Chad’s insane success with women. It was too slick, too casual, and too easily forgotten. But he wouldn’t mind having at least a few of those skills himself for when the right woman came along—so she wouldn’t pass on by before he could untie his tongue.

“Maybe he is hung like horse,” a voice said out of the darkness. Rolando faded into view, a battered AK-47 over his shoulder catching the moonlight and an even more worn radio at his hip.

“You got patrol tonight. Sorry, amigo,” Duane said more easily than Richie could have. Rolando was one of the most dangerous of the coca farm’s guards. The others joked that he loved his gun more than his mother.

“No big deal. But I was mucho close to spreading Mayra.” He held up two fingers so close together the moonlight couldn’t slip between them. “Like so before he come along.” Then he shrugged. “Maybe when he gone.”

With Rolando it was hard to read if that meant he was expecting them to just leave or if Rolando was planning to accidently shoot Chad some night soon. Richie reminded himself to tell Chad to watch his back around Rolando—not that Chad was easy to surprise. He might be a complete womanizer, but he’d also grown up on the wrong side of the Detroit streets.

The first option was unlikely, because once a person came to work on a coca farm, it was very hard to leave. There were hundreds of booby traps set around the perimeter of the fields. They were intended to keep raiders and government men out, but the lethal wall was not far into the jungle and it did just as effective a job of keeping the workers in. The main road in and out was always heavily guarded, except for a few minutes around sunrise a couple days from now, which is when the Delta team would be leaving.

They traded some more sympathy with Rolando, all agreeing that it would help if Chad wasn’t such a good guy as well.

Richie knew better.

Chad was one of those guys who was everyone’s friend and most people assumed that’s all he was. But he had also come by his nickname, The Reaper, because he was a stone-cold killer when he needed to be.

Richie and Duane continued their walk, leaving Rolando to watch the night. They stopped and chatted with two more guards before reaching the one corner of the field they hadn’t had a chance to exactly locate yet.

“Anyone?”

He and Duane stood for at least ten minutes, talking about the backbreaking work of tending the vast plantings—which in truth wasn’t as tough as a typical day of Delta training—and watching over each other’s shoulders.

Duane finally shook his head in answer to Richie’s earlier question. They were alone.

Richie knelt quickly and pulled out a small, high-powered radio, unfolded a tiny parabolic dish antenna, and aimed it upward. He checked his watch, shifted the antenna to point toward the constellation Virgo, and pinged their full set of GPS data coordinates up to a satellite that should be in that vicinity. By using a directional antenna and sending all of the data compacted into a single short burst of information, their signal should be undetectable.

Many coca fields were heavily protected from above as well; acre after acre of camouflage nets hid the cash crop. Others, like this one, were hidden so deep in the mountains that it was easier to find them from the ground, following leads and tips rather than aerial photos.

Ten seconds later a “squirt” pinged back from The Activity—America’s most clandestine military intelligence agency in Fort Belvoir, Virginia. Another coca field had been accurately located and recorded.

Richie glanced at the return message quickly, checking that it unscrambled cleanly. Then swore when his eye caught on the last line.

“What?” Duane whispered.

Richie sent the “message received” squirt back, collapsed his little setup of equipment, and scanned the message fully before putting away his gear.

“Six hours,” was all he said. “All the way out.”

“Aw, mierda!” was Duane’s response.

***

The living room was a complete shambles. It reeked with the bitter sting of spent powder, though not enough shots had been fired to cloud the room with smoke. The room was chilly, threatening to freeze the sweat on her forehead. The midsummer North Carolina heat hadn’t penetrated the thick concrete-block walls—which were painted in a rich brown, creating the worst visibility conditions for the exercise.

Staff Sergeant Melissa Charlene “The Cat” Moore did her best to keep the pure glee of the entire experience out of her expression as her three-person team moved through the room finishing the job—and over the last six months, they had become her team. She’d fallen in as the natural leader despite being the only female.

Six months ago she had been the one sitting on this same worn couch, for which too much fake blue leather had died decades before. There were mismatched armchairs, a battered entertainment center, dining table, kitchen in the corner…the whole nine yards of a well-worn modern family great room.

There were three types of occupants.

The first were seven armed terrorists—all now dead with two shots each to the chest or three in the pelvic region for those wearing armored vests. As they’d fallen, they’d knocked over chairs and lamps. One had slid down the wall and taken a pair of cheap paintings with him. The woman in the kitchen with an MP5 machine gun had flailed back into a dish cabinet with a clatter far louder than the silenced weapons used by Melissa’s team. It was immensely satisfying, even if all seven terrorists were mannequins.

The lights came back on and Melissa flipped up the night-vision goggles attached to the helmet that covered her blond hair. Her Kevlar vest was weighed down with a wide array of hardware, most of it spare magazines for her rifle and handgun. After so much training, it felt unnatural whenever she took it off rather than when she strapped it on.

The second type of occupants in the room remained paralyzed with shock. They were the five members of the most recent group to make it through the Delta Force Selection Process and had played the role of being hostages. They still sat in their chairs as if they’d been bolted there. Melissa barely managed to suppress a very un-Delta-like giggle.

She knew from personal experience that despite being trained soldiers, getting over that shock would take them at least a minute—more than long enough for her to complete her tasks and clear out. For that amount of time, her team could do practically anything they wanted, perhaps even pick the new recruits’ pockets. She recalled that she’d certainly been in that level of shock when it had been her turn half a year before.

It had taken her team under three seconds to neutralize the room.

The shock of the “hostages” had many sources, the amazing speed and brutal application of force by the rescue team being the worst of it. Nothing in military training, not even Ranger School, could prepare a soldier for the ferocity a Delta team could unleash.

Mutt had breached the room’s steel door with a large explosive charge and Jeff had killed the lights in the same moment.

Melissa then slid in a flashbang. It had done exactly as its name implied, releasing a blinding flash and an explosive percussion as loud as that of an M33 frag grenade but causing none of the damage.

Then their lightning attack with suppressed, night-vision-scoped rifles had capped off the mayhem.

Live ammo fired at much closer quarters than any other Army shooter would dare had riddled the bad-guy mannequins—rounds passing so close by the hostages’ heads that it almost trimmed their hair.

That was the ultimate shocker to soldiers who thought they were already good but hadn’t faced a Delta-style room clearing before. There was a whole other world of “better” that these new recruits had never encountered, despite a minimum of four years of military service.

There were only five “hostages” in the room. The monthlong test of the Selection Process to apply for admission to the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment-Delta training was brutal. This class had started with ninety-eight applicants.

Her own Delta Selection class had shrunk from a hundred and twenty-two applicants down to six who had passed. Only three of them had made it through the six months of the Delta Force’s Operator Training Course and Mutt had been from the prior class but torn out a knee halfway through his first try at OTC. Of her own class, only she and Jeff had made it through from the group of six who’d passed—two injury drops who would be back next time and two couldn’t-hack-it drops.

That was the third group in the room—she and her two classmates. With the completion of this exercise, the three of them were the newest graduates of the OTC and full members of The Unit.

With a quick hand signal, she had Mutt and Jeff sweeping the room for hidden explosives and booby traps.

Melissa “The Cat” circled the couch and used her silenced Glock 23 handgun to drop an extra “security” shot into the forehead of each terrorist mannequin. Never just presume they were dead—she’d been trained to make sure they were never getting up again, no matter what help arrived how fast. A .40 S&W round into the brainpan guaranteed these mannequins were never going to sell trendy, overpriced clothes again. She considered dropping two shots into the MP5-wielding female lying among the shattered dishes. She was wearing a horridly clashing blue miniskirt and an orange blouse—which now had two neat holes in it where 5.56mm NATO rounds had punched into her chest. But the extra shot was against protocol—save the ammo; you never know what is coming next. Maybe save the round for whatever member of the training cadre had dressed her that way. Melissa sent just the standard single round into the Styrofoam brainpan—a silenced spit from the weapon and a sharp thwap from the mannequin’s plastic skull.

Once she’d done the last of the security rounds and Mutt and Jeff had signaled an all clear, they began clearing the weapons that had been in the terrorists’ possession.

Six months ago, when her own class had been the ones in the couches and chairs, she’d been nearly catatonic with shock—and desperate with need. In a few blazing seconds, the arriving Deltas had shot every terrorist and not harmed a single recruit. No prior intel on the number of terrorists, hostages, or their positions.

Now she knew how they did it. The Unit—though it was easier to think of herself as Delta—trained exhaustively to deal with the unknown. Hostage rescue was but one of a hundred skills they practiced endlessly.

Half a year of brutal training, learning how to walk, then run, then run backward, all while becoming absolutely lethal shots. The Unit didn’t waste rounds during training. Unlike most outfits, they never delivered a hail of bullets—except when it was called for. Instead, every single shot counted, was aimed and placed with an accuracy practiced until it was instinctive. But while doing that, the fewer than a thousand operators of The Unit’s entire combat personnel still shot more training rounds than the two hundred thousand jarheads of the Marine Corps.

Of the five “hostages” who had survived this round of Delta Selection, there was one woman—only the third to ever qualify for The Unit. She was the first to recover; spotting Melissa, the woman shot her a cheeky grin of Oh yeah, sister!

Melissa offered an infinitesimal nod in return before gathering the last of the weapons and heading for the door. She wondered what the first woman of Delta had felt when she’d spotted Melissa on the couch. She certainly hadn’t smiled back. Or nodded. Or even blinked.

Carla Effing Anderson.

The first woman of Delta.

She’d been too chill to offer even the tiniest bit of encouragement to Melissa.

Of course Melissa had been in near-terminal shock. She’d thought that she was the first woman to make it into The Unit—right until the moment Carla led in the room-clearing strike team.

One moment her class had been having a tactics discussion with Colonel Michael Gibson.

Then the room had gone dark, the door blown, the flashbang, and twenty-four shots went into eight terrorist dummies.

In less than four seconds, the terrorists were “dead” and Carla Anderson had simply materialized a meter in front of Melissa. Even Star Trek transporters didn’t work that quickly. Melissa still had no idea how she’d done it.

And all through OTC, Melissa had heard nothing but “Carla always this…” and “Carla always that…”

Crap! She was sick of it.

What was worse, Melissa didn’t hear it only from the training cadre. Mutt, real name Tom Maxwell, had gone through Delta Selection and half of OTC with the famed Carla Anderson before blowing out a knee and having to drop back to Melissa’s class. He’d clearly been impressed as could be by the woman and had been real slow about learning when the heck to shut up. He’d finally backed off when Melissa had threatened to kneecap him in the other knee. In answer, he’d shot her a grin and said, “Exactly what Carla would have done. Except she wouldn’t have warned me first.”

Melissa had always lived up to only one standard since her brother’s death—her own. Granted, following in the footsteps of Carla Effing Anderson had pushed her harder, but it had also ticked her off. If she ever met the woman, Melissa was going to kick her butt just on general principle.

Last out the door behind Mutt and Jeff, she paused for one final glance back into the room.

There was a fourth type of person in the room, just one.

Colonel Michael Gibson, the most senior and scariest operator of them all. He’d stood unflinching during their entire raid as rounds flew close by either side of him. He was a bird colonel, yet he still fought out on the front lines. There wasn’t anyone else like him—definitely not in the room, probably not anywhere in The Unit. Which meant he was the top warrior anywhere in any military.

No matter how many were in the room, he would always need a category of his own, commanding absolute respect by the simple fact of his presence.

Heart Strike

Heart Strike

This time the Delta Force team lands in it deep. Undercover, they're being hunted by the US Coast Guard, the Bahamian police, and most of Venezuela. The last thing they need? Their tech wizard flying head over bomb trigger for their newest fighter. More info →
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