I checked the archives and thought I’d posted this earlier, but I can’t find it. I wanted to post something from Merlin, my antagonist, but I try to keep this blog at “G” to “PG” ratings, soooo . . . I’m limited to another excerpt from Chapter 1:

NOTICE: This material is copyrighted, first draft, certainly contains errors, and possibly not even going to be in the final draft of anything. Do not quote or repost anywhere or in any format. Thanks.

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Charlie had stopped at the track on the way home for a run. It would be a long night, she wanted to get the workout in and get her batteries recharged before the inside work kicked in tonight.

Harold had looked positively gray at staff meeting today. She’d started noticing Harold’s look reflected the difficulty of the task they were about to be assigned. She’d never seen Harold look so bad before. If she guessed right, something about this job scared the shit out of him, and she’d never seen him scared before. Self-deprecating, sure. Worried was not unusual, but scared? She’d never seen it, and she’d worked with him for the last six years and known him in some capacity for ten. Well, that wasn’t completely true. She had seen him on September Eleventh. But even then he hadn’t looked scared. Concerned. Puzzled. Let’s get to work on this one.

Harold was the Clark Kent kind of guy. Starting to get a little soft around the middle. Guys were different about weight than girls, but he worried about gaining weight—probably partially because of his Air Force Reserve obligation, but Harold was more introspective than most guys she knew. She’d never heard anyone else remark on it, but she suspected his confidence was forced from within himself. But looks could be deceiving. And don’t let that forced confidence fool you in case you had noticed it. Harold always came through. The Geeks would go the distance as long as Harold was at the helm. They’d been the original crew when Relative Research stood up, and they were damn good. And each one of them knew it.

She checked her watch as she came around the track on her next to last lap, yep, she was on track for averaging a less than nine minute mile. At least she was improving. She really wanted to get down to less than an eight minute mile, but she’d neglected running for several years, and she had to get her legs and lungs back. She tapped the button on her watch to capture her final time for this three mile segment, 26:57. Just barely under nine minute miles. She’d take it. She walked a lap and headed for the truck. As she neared it, a silver Lexus convertible pulled up. A stunningly handsome man flowed out, nodded at her, and headed for the track. She nodded in acknowledgment, climbed into her truck and headed for home.

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