Eye of the Storm

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I’d like to dedicate Eye of the Storm to Gabrielle the Labrador, my wildly happy and sock stealing Retriever. She keeps waiting for me to bring her literary alter ego, Chino, home for her to play with.

— Melissa Good

Chapter

One

THE AIR WAS thick with nervous dread, even though the plain, if neatly furnished conference room provided a relatively relaxed appearance. Six people were seated around the nicked, wooden table, all eyeing each other with looks of trepidation. It was mid afternoon, and several beams of warm sunlight entered through a high set of windows, painting the opposite wall in lurid stripes.

“So,” a short, dark haired woman shuffled the papers in front of her, “never thought I’d see this happen.”

A taller, equally dark haired man across from her leaned back and folded his arms. “C’mon, Ann. We were sitting targets. Six new contracts, and two of them directly competing?” He sighed in disgust. “Just a matter of time.” He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of…when’s this piece of bad news going to get here?”

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