Perfection (JL Spelbring) by JL Spelbring Read Free Book Online

the contents onto the cover.
    A metallic clatter came from the growing pile, and the scent of old gunpowder and cleaning oil filled the air. Her green bedspread was covered in pistols and rifles. Unlike the authorized .40 S&W, the only weapon allowed when hunting Renegades, these firearms had been illegally obtained from the Renegades she’d captured over the years. None of them could be traced back to her.
    Angela picked up an SG 550 assault rifle, liking the weight of it in her hands, and brought it firmly against her shoulder. She’d had the opportunity to sight it only twice, but the feeling of her finger on the trigger, the forced impact against her shoulder, and the odor of the powder as it filled her nostrils were all ingrained in her memory. Unfortunately, the rifle wouldn’t accompany her on the trip.
    She set it down and picked up the Taurus PT145. Perfect. A smaller handgun, designed for concealed carry. She removed the double-stacked magazine and loaded ten rounds of .45 cartridges. Sliding the magazine back into place and chambering a round, she held the gun. Her fingers felt at home around the contours of the polymer grip.
    Placing the gun on the bedside table, Angela grabbed three more magazines and stuffed ten .45 rounds into each one. She couldn’t imagine needing more. Then again, after what had happened at the park, who knew? She had no way of knowing whether Dr. Hirch kept other secrets, and she wasn’t going to be unprepared again. The embarrassing episode of waking behind the bush back at the park had been enough. Even now, the humiliation burned through her with a vengeance of its own when she thought about it.
    If she could only get the perfect bitch alone…
    Renegades would be blamed, and Angela would have her revenge and walk away unscathed.
    She set the box with the remaining cartridges off to the side along with the ankle holster and magazine pouches and grabbed another box just for good measure. She replaced the rest of the firearms in the bag and hauled her illegal possessions back to the closet to store away from prying eyes.
    With the holster tied to her ankle, the gun nestled inside, the leather hugging the metal contours, she stood and looked in the full-length mirror attached to the closet door. Her damp hair, like spun silvery thread, draped over her shoulders. And her eyes, although tired and tinged with red, remained alert. Her body was toned and lean. She was just as deadly as The Center’s children, and even more so with the stainless-steel weapon hidden by the flare of her jeans.
    Pleased, Angela attached the ammo pouches to the inside of her waistband. In each pouch, she placed a magazine. They felt hard against her back, but not uncomfortable. She hid the extra rounds with a lightweight blue jacket that fell loosely around her waist.
    Angela checked her watch. An hour left. She grabbed another suitcase and shoved in three pairs of off-duty pants and shirts, a set of camos, and other necessities. She wrapped both ammunition boxes in a pair of pajamas, placed them within her essentials, and zipped the suitcase closed.
    After one last glance around the room to make sure everything was in order, Angela shut off the lights.

6
    Ellyssa woke with her cheek against the cool moss-covered ground. Fine grass tickled her skin, and the sun warmed her hair. Soft gurgles of water rushed over rocks and intermingled with the hum of insects. For a brief second, she felt peaceful, before a dull throbbing echoed from her legs, up her spinal cord, and ended at her temple, informing her that she was not well.
    She swallowed. Her throat felt swollen and scratchy, like she’d eaten a wad of sandpaper. Her tongue darted between her dry, cracked lips and pulled back the metallic taste of blood.
    Tauntingly, just a meter away, the water bottle lay next to her bag. With the way she felt, it might as well have been a kilometer.
    She wanted to close her eyes again, to let sleep take her away, but she