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Miley laughed bitterly. “Of that I am all too aware. I get it, JJ—you and Fitz care about me as do the guys I work with, but I’m just wired differently. For tonight, I hit the big O three times and I’m feeling much more centered. I just don’t understand if that’s good enough for me, then why isn’t it good enough for the rest of you?”
It wasn’t good enough, but then Miley often wondered if she was good enough to warrant anything more than her physical needs being met. At the very least she needed a man’s dominance to allow her to let go and feel the pleasure, but finding one dominant enough to warrant her submission was something of a lost cause. She could still hear her mother’s drunken rantings that Miley had ruined her life and that she could have been a star if she hadn’t been saddled with Miley. Maybe it was true and maybe it wasn’t, but it no longer mattered.
Pulling away, Miley made it down to her Range Rover, manipulated the key fob from its hiding place, hopped inside and drove off into the London night. She was well on her way out of the capital before she felt the tears beginning to leak from her eyes like the dark sky overhead leaked rain from the clouds.
CHAPTER3
MILEY
Chicago, Illinois
Present Day
Miley stretched her neck from side to side and rolled her shoulders. So far, she was three for three. Everyone was in the shooting gallery in the lower level of the building for their quarterly qualifying test. There really wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that they would all qualify, but beyond that, the quarterly exercise had become something of a competition between the Cerberus employees. They each wanted to outshoot the other.
Three more to go and she earned herself a luxury vacation to any place in the world. There was an old custom in Chinese restaurants that with ‘six, you got eggroll.’ At Cerberus if you could beat six of your colleagues in the qualifying rounds, you got an all-expense paid vacation. The caveat was you had to defeat them one right after the other. All it took was one bad round, and she would be eliminated and out of the running for the prize. This quarter it was a prize she wanted; she needed a vacation badly.
There was a camaraderie and yet competitive spirit in the shooting gallery. She was fairly sure they knew they were about to get beat. Miley would win. She always won. She had been the best sniper in Fitz’s unit, and was still the best shot in the organization, although she was sure Rhiannon Barnes, the other Cerberus sniper, would dispute that claim.
So far, Royce, Coop and Dillon had fallen to her expertise. She had King, Brock and Seth lined up. Of the three, King was really the only one she was concerned about. She knew she could beat Brock and Seth, especially if Seth decided to play dirty. Miley grinned. Actually, she hoped he did decide to slant the odds his way; she had something up her sleeve just for him if he did.
“Come on, boys. One of you step up. Daylight’s wasting,” she said, sending the new target back to the end of the range.
“What the fuck does that even mean?” asked Seth.
Miley shrugged. “Just something I heard a lot growing up.”
“And where would that be?” pressed Seth.
Miley didn’t discuss her childhood. In fact, it was decidedly off limits and Seth bloody well knew it.
“In the land of none of your damn business. Now shut up and shoot,” she snarled.
Seth walked over to her and touched her shoulder. “My bad. I’m sorry.”
Miley nodded but said nothing.
Seth returned to his alley, removed his gun from its holster, and fired his requisite ten rounds. Miley watched him carefully to ensure he wasn’t throwing the match up to her. It didn’t appear that he was. His score seemed to be about normal for him—most landed in the seven and eight zones, with one landing in a nine zone. It was a good, solid score and certainly met the minimum score required by Cerberus.
She rolled her shoulders again, ignoring the ache in the one she’d taken a bullet in three months ago. Bringing her SIG up, she extended her arms at shoulder height, gripping the handgun in a two-fisted grip, took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and pulled the trigger. The gun fired smoothly and rapidly, and Miley obliterated the two “X” zones.
“Shit,” said Seth. “You could at least land a couple in the nines.”
Lowering the gun, she looked at him. “I could, but you’d know I was throwing you a bone.” She looked to Brock Wickersham—the distinguished operative who had transferred from England and was still a bit of a mystery. “Next.”
“Fitz warned me there was a reason you were considered to be our top sniper. Even Rhiannon bowed to your skill.”
Miley smiled. She and Rhiannon had talked many times about how it tickled both of them that the two best shots among the Cerberus operatives were both women. It wasn’t that the men were slouches by any stretch of the imagination; it was just that Miley and Rhiannon were better. It didn’t hurt that they were among only a handful of female field operatives at the renowned black ops organization.
She recalled her target and replaced it with a fresh one. “You’re up.”
Brock nodded, pulled out his gun, and unloaded his ten-round clip. Like Seth, his scores were good; in fact, a bit better than Seth’s, but Miley wasn’t feeling any pressure about her ability to outshoot him.
Miley ejected her spent clip, catching it in her hand and inserting another, chambering her first round before bringing her SIG back up to bear on the target. Once again, she demolished the bullseye or X zones so that they were no longer visible.
“Damn,” said Brock with true admiration in his voice. “I think you could take Rhiannon in a shooting contest.”
“I like to think so,” said Miley, “but then she probably thinks she could take me.”
