Clear by Fire by Joshua Hood Read Free Book Online

the man couldn’t find his asshole with two hands and a map. Duke, it’s covered. Trust me.”
    “So what happens now?”
    “Decklin gets the case out of the country, and the DoD will get the FBI to hit the doctor’s. It will be a routine warrant, but the doctor will be taken out during the operation. It’s too easy.”
    “Is that everything?”
    Simmons hesitated before getting up, and Duke caught it.
    “What else?”
    “Sir, it’s just a hunch, but—”
    “Jesus, Jacob, I’ve got work to do, just spit it out.”
    “It’s General Swift. I don’t think he’s going to play ball.”
    “Are you worried about him, or are you worried about yourself?” Duke asked honestly.
    “Duke, you know I’m good to go, but I don’t think the old man has it in him.”
    “Let me handle that. Swift will get in line, or he will be put in line. Trust me, it’s going to work out.”
    “Yes, sir.” Jacob smiled and headed for the door as Duke picked up the phone and dialed a number from memory.
    “Nantz, it’s Duke. The package is on the way to Barnes.” He paused, listening to the man on the other end of the line. “Yes, I understand, but I need you to do something. Have the team test the gas. I want to see what Swift does.”

CHAPTER 5
----
California
    T he EMT had told Renee that she might have a concussion, but she had declined a ride to the local emergency room. She finally got back to her hotel room at three o’clock in the morning. Tossing the room key on the table, she set her camera and blood-spattered computer on the bed before heading over to the minibar.
    The blood under her nails appeared dark brown in the light cast by the small refrigerator as she bent down to grab an airplane-sized bottle of vodka. Sparks of pain radiated out from the back of her skull as she stood upright. It hurt like hell, but the dizziness wasn’t that bad.
    She downed the bottle in one long gulp, hoping it would dull the pain. She was tired and looked longingly at the king-sized bed and inviting pillows but remembered an instructor in North Carolina telling her that she could sleep when she was dead.
    She knew she still had more in the tank, so she tore her gaze from the bed.
    Sliding the holster and pistol off her belt, she placed them next to the camera and laptop already resting on the bed. She pulled the bloodstained blouse over her head, tossed it in the trash, and headed to the bathroom.
    Renee flipped on the light and turned the shower on full blast.The mirror fogged from the steam of the hot shower, and Renee wiped her hand across the glass to see herself.
    Gingerly she touched the bruise forming on her sternum. The dark red and blue welt was getting darker between her well-formed breasts, and it hurt to touch. The trauma plate had saved her life and she knew it.
    “You look like shit,” she said to her reflection.
    Renee had been forced to learn doggedness at an early age just to keep up with everyone else. Looking back, her struggles seemed like such a little thing compared to where she was now, but back then, having to work twice as hard as everyone else had seemed so unfair.
    Her mother had always told her she could do whatever she wanted as long as she was willing to work for it. While her father and brothers played outside, romping in the yard, she would watch them through the window as she sat at the table, drowning in schoolwork, just trying to keep up with her classes. She was a prisoner of her own weakness, and she swore that one day nothing would keep her down.
    In third grade Renee’s mom had gotten her a tutor named Maleeha. She was a middle-aged Pakistani whose husband worked at her mother’s real estate company, and Renee was fascinated with the stories of her home. This was her first exposure to a life outside of Mississippi, and it was intoxicating. She would rush through her schoolwork and spend the rest of the time trying to learn Pashto from her tutor, a skill that would bear fruit later in