Jordan Summers - [Dead World 01] by Red (html) Read Free Book Online Page B

in-evitable.
    Red rounded the corner of the long hall that led to
her grandfather's office and froze, her gaze locking on the dark-haired man shaking Bannon's hand. Was that Roark
Montgomery? The Roark Montgomery? What was h e doing here?
It must be important if he took time out of
his busy campaigning schedule to drop in to IPTT. She took a deep breath
to steady her nerves and stood a little straighten She didn't want to get caught
slouching. It wasn't every day you encountered a liv ing legend .
    One of the best marksmen to ever
grace the halls of the tactical team,
Roark had single-handedly changed the training system so its members could become the most elite team in
the world. His accuracy record re mained unbroken. A terrific speaker with charisma enough for ten men.
Roark had parlayed that success, using his strength and natural leadership to move into
politics. Rumor had it that he was trying to unite the republics.
    Roark's dark head dipped toward Bannon as the men shared a private joke. The laugh he expelled rumbled like a sonic boom of pure energy. If anyone could
bring the republics together, it would be him. Montgomery certainly had her vote.
    Red tilted her chin higher and
squared her shoulders before continuing
down the hall toward her grandfather's office. The two men hadn't
noticed her yet.
    "You have my support,"
Bannon said, releasing the politician as
Red neared.
    "I appreciate it,
Lieutenant. The continuation of the tactical team is a top priority for me. I
won't forget you when I unite the republics. I can always use a man like you as
extra security."
    'Thank you, sir." Bannon grinned, his eyes flashing
with the myriad of possibilities his new position could bring.
    Power-hungry bastard.
    Red's stomach clenched as
something close to envy wound its way into her system. She walked down the lead-encased corridor, her
footfalls whispering softly on the
ancient marble floor.
    Roark Montgomery looked up and smiled at her. "Lieutenant,"
he said in greeting before dropping his gaze to her feet. "Nice
booties."
    Red flushed. She'd forgotten all about her shoes. So
much for making a good impression. She contin ued
on without a word, wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her.
    A set of wooden doors marked the end of the hall. Her
grandfather often spoke of how prevalent wood was back in the old days,
before the thinning ozone coupled with the last war all but annihilated outdoor
forests and the oxygen generating machines became a necessity.
    She ran her hand over the smooth surface, the intriguing
sensation both familiar and foreign at the same
time. What had the dead world looked like cov ered with trees? She
closed her eyes a moment and tried to
imagine. All that lovely green must have been a remarkable sight.
    Red straightened her black uniform, then raised her
hand to knock on the door. A camera popped out of the wood in front of her face before she made con tact and
scanned her retina.
    "Come in, Gina."
    The door swung open with a barely audible swish. The harsh mint scent from the A.I. system fell away, unable to cling to her
as Red stepped into the spacious old-world room. She glanced around the
commander's office, admiring the holographs of the long extinct animals lining the
walls. So many colors, so many s pecies.
Such a waste.
    Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves held volumes of rare work, tomes made of paper and bindings. Nothing like the e-books she grew up reading. Red loved the
smell of this room. Modern, yet ancient in origin. It was like a living, breathing extension of her grandfather.
    Commander Robert Santiago sat behind a large maple desk, his silver-haired head buried in the
syn thetic documents clenched in his hands. He inhaled and his chest
widened.
    Red watched, smiling to herself. The man gave the best hugs. Not that he was free with his affection while
on duty. Quite the contrary. He regarded her as he did any other tactical team member. If anything, he held Red to a
higher standard