All Chapters of Strikethrough Book One - Strike Zone Series: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Colorado. Kneeling in the same spot for hours resulted in cramping muscles and a dampening forehead. Shifting positions would show weakness. Sweat burned the eyes, not ideal when staring down a scope.“Any moment now.” Papa’s whispered words drew Jona’s attention back to the bird’s eye view of the school.The empty tenth-floor apartment in the partially completed residential building afforded the best vantage point at the perfect distance. A couple of school kids pushed open the doors from the auditorium. Around Jona’s age, they seemed carefree while galloping down the stairs. Spoilt Americans.“Remember what I have taught you.” Papa’s warm hand touched Jona’s shoulder. “I would take the shot, but my hands are no longer reliable.”This assignment was Jona’s first kill—first human kill. Animals didn’t count, although Jona had hunted alongside Papa

Three months later.Colombo, Sri Lanka. Gage Hendrix headed across the soft sand with his friend and teammate, Jason Webb. They carried food and paper cups from the nearby street stall and slowed as they reached the rest of his MSD team. The sun hadn’t yet topped the horizon, and aside from a few fishermen, the beach lay quiet. “Wakey, wakey. Eggs and Bakey.” Gage kicked the prone body stretched out on the dunes. “We leave you for five minutes, and you’re already snoozing.”Gannon sat up and yawned, running a hand through shaggy blond hair. “Fucking jet lag is already kicking my ass. I’m not a Spazmanian Devil, like you.” He glanced at the watch on his muscled wrist as Jason walked to the other men at the shoreline. “And you were gone for twenty minutes, bro.”Gag

Chantal couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched as she climbed into the back of the suburban. It had been a long day, and her feet ached. Thanks to skipping lunch and only having an apple for breakfast, her stomach protested. Exhaustion ate away at her mood, but she forced a smile and greeted her local bodyguards. The workday wasn’t over, and as soon as she got home, she’d change out of her jeans into her sweats. Pulling out a thick customized planner, Chantal scribbled an observation from her last appointment and chose a colored sticker from the back as a reminder for a follow-up.  Consistency and self-discipline were both key when offering quality chiropractic services. Only she was in charge of what filled her treatment space and took up her valuable time. Lives were made-up of pattern and routine, and she refused to spend her days on insignificant habits.  Kirk, the DS Agent in Charge—referred to in diplomatic

Jona collapsed onto the sand and watched the sun rise. This early hour was perfect for a three-mile run. Aside from a few fishermen, the beach lay quiet—a solitary start to the day. Wiping a sweaty brow, Jona acknowledged failure by waiting too long to take out the mother and daughter. It had been twelve years, and Jona had completed fifty-two kills and never failed. Except once… while Papa watched.Standing frozen on the sideline like a procrastinating fucker, waiting to complete this first mission. Why the delay? Because emotions fogged up this unfinished assignment, and Jona couldn’t fail a second time. Between contracts, Jona had stalked the ambassador’s daughter, aware that an assassin should never get too close to their target. Years had passed without action.Chantal Durant had everything in life, and Jona actually liked the spoilt bitch. Chantal had her choice of men—falling over themselves to be with her. Yet, the prissy princess

Gage watched Wyatt—the new AIC—open the car door for Chantal, and as she climbed out, he glanced over at his team, who were eager to head to the embassy to stow away equipment and weapons. The sun had already set, and they’d locked up late due to a last-minute patient with ulcerations from his prosthetic. “Wait here.” Gage knew it was wrong, but even though they were in the safe confines of the Jefferson House, he chose to walk Chantal back to her cottage. He headed to her side, and she shot him an odd look.  “Are you going home?” he asked. “Yeah. Clean-up time.” “I’ll walk you. Let me take your bag. It looks heavy.” She laughed nervously. “You don’t have to. I’m perfectly capable.” “Still, I want to.” She handed it over, and he mock-groaned. “What’s in this thing, bricks?” Chantal laughed. “My planner is the culprit.” “Is your planner a person? Like a