Free Agents Under Fire by Dana Marton

of gold coins?”
    Gabe swallowed hard. “Eleven?”
    “ Could be more,” the man said in a tone of disgust. “They’re still counting.”
    “ There’s this garment factory I heard of in Afghanistan. In North Village,” Jasmine spoke up. “It’s a non-profit gig to give work to widows and support orphans.”
    The colonel shot a questioning look to Gabe, then nodded. “There’s one more thing,” he said after a moment. “I had a quick teleconference with the FBI about this. They’ll be investigating. They want a small team, preferably people who are already on the ground and already know the case.”
    Gabe thought those words over long and hard. As long as Congressman Wharton was flying free, people who knew the truth about him would never be safe. They needed to figure out what Brent had been blackmailing the man with and bring him down.
    “ The pay won’t be what private security promised you, but it’ll be decent,” the colonel said. “Do you know anyone who might be interested in the job?”
    Gabe looked at Jasmine. The expression on her face said she’d been thinking the same thing as he had. They needed to tie up all loose ends to have any chance at a normal life together.
    “ I waited ten years already. I can wait another couple of months,” she told him.
    One in a million. He smiled at her. One in a million. And she was his.
    The colonel cleared his throat. Gabe caught himself and stopped staring at her, wiped the goofy grin off his face.
    He refocused on the topic at hand, considering Jake Tekla and Troy, two men who already knew all about Wharton, men he trusted. They both had what it took to take on an op that would be more dangerous than the mess they’d just survived.
    He took Jasmine’s hand and looked at the colonel. “I think I can put a small team together, sir.”
     
     
     
     
    _._._
     
     
     
     
    I dedicate this story to Jenel Looney, a truly extraordinary person and the best friend anyone could ever wish for.
     
    Agents Under Fire
    GUARDIAN AGENT
    AVENGING AGENT
    WARRIOR AGENT
     
     
     
     
    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
     
     
    GUARDIAN AGENT. Copyright © 2011 by Dana Marton. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
     
    http://www.danamarton.com/
    First Edition: June 2011
     
     
     
     
    AVENGING AGENT
    A Novella
    BY
    DANA MARTON
     
     
     
    This story is dedicated to Jenel Looney with my most heartfelt gratitude.
     
     
    Agents Under Fire
    GUARDIAN AGENT
    AVENGING AGENT
    WARRIOR AGENT
     
     
    "... started with a bang and the tension never let up. Marton is an accomplished thriller writer, and it shows. Every time I promised myself I'd stop and turn out the light, I kept reading just one more page..." Paula Graves, national bestselling author (about GUARDIAN AGENT)
     
     
    This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
     
     
    AVENGING AGENT.Copyright © 2011 by Dana Marton. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without the written permission of the author.
     
     
    www.danamarton.com
    First Edition: August 2011
     
     
    ~~~***~~~
     
     
     
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    The full heat of summer poured in through the iron bars of the glassless window. Two pesky flies buzzed around the police chief’s head, trying to get to the sweat beading on his forehead. Another settled on the man’s coffee cup that teetered on top of a crooked stack