Storm Front

Secret agent Jazzmyn Storm met the man of her dreams while in Romania. At least, she thinks she did. All she can remember, after being found floating in the Black Sea, was that she was on assignment…and now she’s missing a month of time.

With no answers to what really happened, her only clues are in her dreams. A mystery man with an incredibly sexy accent, whose name she can’t remember…but whose touch she can’t forget.

As she tries to piece together that missing month, she realizes the answers are in Romania. Jazzmyn defies her superiors and goes back to uncover what happened, who this mystery man really is…and maybe even the truth about herself in this paranormal suspense.

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“The role of women has always been undervalued in the spy world, always undermined in terms of recognition.  Unfairly so.  It’s a world that needs women.”  ~Helen Mirren

Chapter 1

I felt myself flying through the air, and I was strangely calm for a moment as the reality of the situation faded away.  This wasn’t happening.  It couldn’t be happening.  I’d wake up any moment and realize it was all a bad dream. 

Then, I hit the water.

Washington DC, September13

I looked up at the lights, then closed my eyes.  Still in the hospital bed, not in the water.  I let out a breath and opened my eyes, then slowly sat up.  A nurse hurried over, but she looked more annoyed than concerned.

“You know you’re supposed to lie down,” she said, shaking her head.  “You won’t get better if you don’t get some sleep.”  She paused for a moment, then asked, “Were you having a dream?”

I shook my head, not sure why I didn’t trust her.  “I just forgot where I was.” 

That was ironic, since I didn’t have much memory of anything.  At least, not the past few weeks.  All I remembered was being sent on a mission in August, then waking up in this hospital bed two days ago.

“Try to rest,” she said, turning and walking back over to the desk.  I was in a ward, not a private room, which seemed rather odd.  Or maybe not.  The other beds were mainly empty, and no one was close enough to talk to…even if I felt like it, which I did not. 

I lay back on the pillows and closed my eyes.  Maybe, if I really concentrated, I would remember something.  Anything.  Because if I didn’t, they’d never send me on another mission.  Not only would I have wasted months of training, but deep down, I had the feeling that it was important for me to go back.  I just wasn’t sure why.

As much as I wanted to remember, a small part of me didn’t.  I could sense it just before I fell asleep.  There was something dangerous about remembering and that’s what bothered me the most.  I’d never turned away from danger and now, my mind was doing it for me.

I exhaled in frustration and waited for sleep.  Maybe, my dreams would give me some clue I couldn’t remember when I was awake.

His voice was what I noticed first.  It was deep and rather sexy with a slight accent I couldn’t place.  He was talking to a shop owner I’d gone to meet in Old Town.  I was early, and the shop owner was trying to convince the man to buy something.

“I don’t think it’s quite my style,” the man said in that deep voice.  “Maybe you have something more…urbane?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” the shop owner replied.  “This is the most sophisticated jacket I carry.”

The man looked over and saw me as I pretended to browse through the racks of dresses.  “What do you think?” he asked.  “Is it my style?”

I smiled and raised an eyebrow.  “It’s very nice.”

The man laughed.  “Very well, I will take it,” he told the man.  “Can you have it delivered to my hotel?  I’m staying at the Grande Plaza.”

The shop owner nodded.  “I’ll send it right over,” he replied, running the man’s card.  “Can I get you anything else?” he added, hopefully.

The man glanced back over at me and smiled.  “I think that’s enough for today.”

I watched him take his card, turn and walk out of the shop.  He was handsome in that dark, sultry way that I usually avoided.  Too much trouble, I’d realized after one particularly bad breakup.

As I walked over to the shop owner, I picked up some emerald earrings lying on the counter.  The stones were small, and I had my doubts if they were even authentic.  “How much for these lovely sapphires?” I asked.

“Those are emeralds,” the man replied.  “I must need more light over my counter.”

“Not at all,” I said.  “I’m not wearing my glasses today.  Unfortunately, I lost them by the pool yesterday.”

The man nodded.  “Come with me,” he said quietly, leading me to the back of the store.

I woke up with a start.  It had seemed so real.  The man, the shop owner, the earrings…even the message.  I’d done that before at a covert meeting with an asset, but not with those particular words.  At least, not that I remembered.  I tried to concentrate on the image of the man, which was already fading, but the voice remained.  I lied back down.  Maybe if I concentrated on that voice, I’d remember more. 

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