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Targeted (Deadly Ops Series #1)352
NOOK Book(eBook)
Available on Compatible NOOK Devices and the free NOOK Apps.
Former Marine sniper and current NSA agent Jack Stone has a new face to go with his new identity. But he still has the same tortured memories—which include the woman he let get away years ago, when they were teenagers. Now his new assignment in Miami will put him so close to the woman he's never been able to forget, he could reach out and touch her—if only she weren't under suspicion.
When Sophie Moreno uncovers evidence linking the medical supply company she works for with arms smuggling—and worse—she doesn't know who to turn to. After a shocking betrayal, she realizes the only person she can trust is a mysterious new person in the company—a man with hauntingly familiar eyes.
As Sophie questions her intense attraction to this man and Jack struggles not to blow his cover, the two of them must race against the clock to stop terrorists from killing scores of people—starting with them.
Product Details
|Penguin Publishing Group
|Publication date:
|Deadly Ops Series , #1
|Sold by:
|Penguin Group
|NOOK Book
|Sales rank:
|File size:
|Age Range:
|18 Years
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Marine Corps Scout Sniper motto: one shot, one kill.
Sam Kelly could see his GP tent fifty yards away. He was practically salivating at the thought of a shower and a clean bed. But he'd settle for the fucking bed at this point. He didn't even care that he was sharing that tent with twenty other men. Showers were almost pointless at this dusty military base in hellish sub-Saharan Africa anyway. By the time he got back to his tent from the showers, he'd be covered in a film of grime again.
Four weeks behind enemy lines with limited supplies and he was also starving. Even an MRE sounded good about now. As he trekked across the dry, cracked ground, he crossed his fingers that the beef jerky he'd stashed in his locker was still there, but he doubted it. His bunkmate had likely gotten to it weeks ago. Greedy fucker.
"There a reason you haven't shaved, Marine?"
Sam paused and turned at the sound of the condescending, unfamiliar voice. An officer—a lieutenant—he didn't recognize stood a few feet away, his pale face flushed and his skin already burning under the hot sun. With one look Sam knew he was new in-country. Why the hell wasn't the idiot wearing a boonie hat to protect his face? Hell, it had to be a hundred and thirty degrees right now. Yeah, this dick was definitely new. Otherwise, he wouldn't be hassling Sam.
Sam gave him a blank stare and kept his stance relaxed. "Yes, sir, there is. Relaxed grooming standards." Dumbass.
The blond man's head tilted to the side just a fraction, as if he didn't understand the concept. God, could this guy be any greener? The man opened his mouth again and Sam could practically hear the stupid shit he was about to spout off by the arrogant look on his face.
"Lieutenant! There a reason you're bothering my boy?" Colonel Seamus Myers was barreling toward them, dust kicking up under his feet with each step.
The man reminded Sam of an angry bull, and when he got pissed, everyone suffered. He was a good battalion commander, though. Right now Sam was just happy the colonel wasn't directing that rage at him. Guy could be a scary fucker when he wanted.
"No, sir. I was just inquiring about his lack of grooming." The officer's face flushed even darker under his spreading sunburn. Yeah, that was going to itch something fierce when it started peeling. Sam smiled inwardly at the thought.
"You're here one week and you think you know more than me?"
"N-no, sir! Of course not, sir."
The colonel leaned closer and spoke so low that Sam couldn't hear him. But he could guess what he was saying because he'd heard it before. Stay the fuck away from Sam Kelly and the rest of my snipers or I'll send you home. Rank definitely mattered, but to the colonel, his few snipers were his boys, and the man had been in more wars than Sam ever wanted to think about. Sam had seen and caused enough death himself to want to get out when his enlistment was up. That wasn't too far off either. He'd been to Iraq, Afghanistan, a few places in South America that weren't even on his official record, and now he was stationed in Djibouti, Africa. Or hell, as he liked to think of it. He loved his job and he loved his country, but enough was enough. Sam just wished he could figure out what the hell he wanted to do if he got out of the military.
He watched as the colonel started talking—loudly—to the new guy. Getting right in his face as only a pissed-off Marine could. Sam almost felt sorry for the guy, but what kind of stupid fucker didn't know that since the environment here was so dirty that staph infections were rampant, grooming standards were different? That was one of the reasons he and a thousand other guys his age had relaxed grooming standards in the bowels of this hellish place. But they also cut him slack because he was a sniper. Sometimes he had to blend in with the populace, among other things. He might be stationed in Africa, but he'd just gotten back from—where else?—Afghanistan. He'd stayed holed up for days in that dank cave just waiting—
"Sergeant, in my tent. Now."
Sam blinked and realized Colonel Myers was talking to him. He nodded. "Yes, sir."
The colonel was still reaming out whoever the newbie was, but Sam always followed orders. Looked as though that shower was going to wait. The walk to the big tent in the middle of the base was short.
As he drew the flap back and stepped into the colonel's tent, he stilled when he spotted a dark-haired man leaning against a table with maps on it. He looked as if he thought he had every right to be there too. Interesting. A fly landed on Sam's face, but he didn't move. Just watched the man, ready to go for one of his weapons if need be. He didn't recognize him and he wasn't wearing a uniform.
Just simple fatigues and a T-shirt that stretched across a clearly fit body even though the guy had to be pushing fifty. There was something about the man that put Sam on edge. He was like a tiger, coiled and waiting to rip your head off. The man's eyes weren't cold, exactly, but they were calculating.
Carefully the man reached for a manila folder next to him and flipped it open. He glanced down at it. "Sam Kelly. Originally from Miami, Florida. Grew up in foster care. No known family. One of the best damn snipers Myers has ever seen. Sniper school honor grad, aptitude for languages, takes orders well, possibly a lifer." He glanced up then, his green eyes focusing on Sam like a laser. "But I don't think you're a lifer. You want a change, don't you?" The man's gaze was shrewd, assessing. Sam didn't like being analyzed, especially by a stranger. And the guy didn't even have an accent, so he couldn't place where he might be from. Nothing in his speech stood out.
Who the hell was this guy? And how the fuck did he know Sam wanted a change? It wasn't as if he'd told anyone. Sam ran through the list of possibilities. He'd been on different operations before, sometimes working for the CIA for solo things, and he'd been attached to various SEAL teams for larger-scale missions, but he'd never worked with this guy before. He did have Sam's file, though—or Sam guessed that was his file in the man's hand. He could just be bluffing. But what would the point of that be? He dropped all semblance of protocol since this guy clearly wasn't a Marine. "Who are you and what do you want?"
"You did some good work in Cartagena a few years ago." He snapped the file shut and set it back on the table.
Sam just stared at him. His statement said a lot all by itself. That mission wasn't in his official jacket, so this guy knew classified shit and was letting Sam know it. But since he hadn't asked a question or introduced himself, Sam wasn't inclined to respond.
The man's lips quirked up a fraction. As they did, the tent flap opened and the colonel strode in. He glared at the man, cursed, then looked at Sam, his expression almost speculative. He jerked a thumb at the stranger. "Whatever this guy tells you is the truth and he's got top secret clearance." He snorted, as if something was funny about that, then sobered. "And whatever you decide . . . Hell, I know what you'll decide. Good luck, son. I'll miss you." He shook Sam's hand, then strode out of the tent.
Miss him? What the hell was he talking about? Sam glared at the man in front of him. "I asked you once who you were. Answer or I'm out of here."
The stranger crossed the short distance and held out his hand.
Sam ignored it.
The man cleared his throat and looked as if he was fighting a smile, which just pissed Sam off. "I'm Lieutenant General Wesley Burkhart, head of—"
"The NSA. I know the name." Sam didn't react outwardly, but the gears in his head were turning. "What do you want with me? I thought you guys were into cryptography and cyber stuff."
"We are, but I'm putting together a team of men and women with a different skill set. Black ops stuff, similar to the CIA, but with less . . . rules. I want to offer you a job, but before I go any further, you need to know that if you come to work for me, Sam Kelly will cease to exist. You will leave your past and everything in it behind."
Sam stared at the man, overwhelmed by too many feelings. Relief being one of them. Leaving his identity behind didn't seem like such a bad thing at all. Finishing the rest of his enlistment in shitholes like this wasn't something he looked forward to. He'd seen and caused so much death that sometimes he wondered if God would ever forgive him. The idea of wiping his record clean was so damn appealing. Maybe this was the fresh start he'd been looking for. Except . . . he touched the hog's tooth hanging from his neck. He'd bled, sweated, and starved for this thing. For what it represented. It was part of him now. "I'm not taking this off. Ever."
The other man's eyes flicked to the bullet around his neck, and the corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. "Unless the op calls for it, I wouldn't expect you to."
Okay, then. Heart thudding, Sam dropped his rucksack to the ground. "Tell me everything I need to know."
Chapter 1
Black Death 9 Agent: member of an elite group of men and women employed by the NSA for covert, off-the-books operations. A member's purpose is to gain the trust of targeted individuals in order to gather information or evidence by any means necessary.
Five years later
Jack Stone opened and quietly shut the door behind him as he slipped into the conference room. A few analysts and field agents were already seated around the long rectangular table. One empty chair remained.
A few of the new guys looked up as he entered, but the NSA's security was tighter than Langley's. Since he was the only one missing from this meeting, the senior members pored over the briefs in front of them without even giving him a cursory glance.
Wesley Burkhart, his boss, handler, and recruiter all rolled into one, stuck his head in the room just as Jack started to sit. "Jack, my office. Now."
He inwardly cringed because he knew that tone well. At least his bags were still packed. Once he was out in the hall, heading toward Wesley's office, his boss briefly clapped him on the back. "Sorry to drag you out of there, but I've got something bigger for you. Have you had a chance to relax since you've been back?"
Jack shrugged, knowing his boss didn't expect an answer. After working two years undercover to bring down a human trafficking ring that had also been linked to a terrorist group in Southern California, he was still decompressing. He'd been back only a week and the majority of his time had been spent debriefing. It would take longer than a few days to wash the grime and memories off him. If he ever did. "You've got another mission for me already?"
Wesley nodded as he opened the door to his office. "I hate sending you back into the field so soon, but once you read the report, you'll understand why I don't want anyone else."
As the door closed behind them, Jack took a seat in front of his boss's oversized solid oak desk. "Lay it on me."
"Two of our senior analysts have been hearing a lot chatter lately linking the Vargas cartel and Abu al-Ramaan's terrorist faction. At this point, the only solid connection we have is South Beach Medical Supply."
"SBMS is involved?" The medical company delivered supplies and much-needed drugs to third-world countries across the globe. Ronald Weller, the owner, was such a straight arrow it didn't seem possible.
"Looks that way." His boss handed him an inch-thick manila folder.
Jack picked up the packet and looked over the first document. As he skimmed the report, his chest tightened painfully as long-buried memories clawed at him with razor-sharp talons. After reading the key sections, he looked up. "Is there a chance Sophie is involved?" Her name rolled off his tongue so naturally, as if he'd spoken to her yesterday and not thirteen years ago. As if saying it was no big deal. As if he didn't dream about her all the damn time.
Wesley shook his head. "We don't know. Personally, I don't think so, but it looks like her boss is."
"Ronald Weller? Where are you getting this information?" Jack had been on the West Coast for the last two years, dealing with his own bullshit. A lot could have changed in that time, but SBMS involved with terrorists—he didn't buy it.
"Multiple sources have confirmed his involvement, including Paul Keane, the owner of Keane Flight. We've got Mr. Keane on charges of treason, among other things. He rolled over on SBMS without too much persuasion, but we still need actual proof that SBMS is involved, not just a traitor's word."
"How is Keane Flight involved?"
"Instead of just flying medical supplies, they've been picking up extra cargo."
Jack's mind immediately went to the human trafficking he'd recently dealt with, and he gritted his teeth. "Cargo?"
"Drugs, guns . . . possibly biological weapons."
The first two were typical cargo of most smugglers, but biological shit put Keane right on the NSA's hit list. "What do you want from me?"
His boss rubbed a hand over his face. "I've already built a cover for you. You're a silent partner with Keane Flight. Now that Paul Keane is incapacitated, you'll be taking over the reins for a while, giving you full access to all his dealings."
"Incapacitated, huh?"
The corners of Wesley's mouth pulled up slightly. "He was in a car accident. Bad one."
"Right." Jack flipped through the pages of information. "Where's Keane really at right now?"
"In federal protection until we can bring this whole operation down, but publicly he's in a coma after a serious accident—one that left him scarred beyond recognition and the top half of his body in bandages."
Jack didn't even want to know where they'd gotten the body. Probably a John Doe no one would miss. "So what's the deal with my role?"
"Paul Keane has already made contact with Weller about you—days before his accident. Told him he was taking a vacation and you'd be helping out until he got back. Weller was cautious on the phone, careful not to give up anything. Now that Keane is 'injured,' no one can ask him any questions. Keane's assistant is completely in the dark about everything and thinks you're really a silent partner. You've been e-mailing with her the past week to strengthen your cover, but you won't need to meet her in person. You're supposed to meet with Weller in two days. We want you to completely infiltrate the day-to-day workings of SBMS. We need to know if Weller is working with anyone else, if he has more contacts we're not privy to. Everything."
"Why can't you tap his phone?" That should be child's play for the NSA.
His boss's expression darkened. "So far we've been unable to hack his line. I've got two of my top analysts, Thomas Chadwick and Steven Williams—I don't think you've met either of them." When Jack shook his head, Wesley continued. "The fact that's he's got a filter that we can't bust through on his phone means he's probably into some dirty stuff."
Maybe. Or maybe the guy was just paranoid. Jack glanced at the report again, but didn't get that same rush he'd always gotten from his work. The last two years he'd seen mothers and fathers sell their children into slavery for less than a hundred dollars. And that wasn't even the worst of it. In the past he hadn't been on a job for more than six months at a time and he'd never been tasked with anything so brutal before, but in addition to human trafficking, they'd been selling people to scientists—under the direction of Albanian terrorists—who had loved having an endless supply of illegals to experiment on. He rolled his shoulders and shoved those thoughts out of his head. "What am I meeting him about?" And how the hell will I handle seeing Sophie? he thought.
"You supposedly want to go over flight schedules and the books and you want to talk about the possibility of investing in his company."
Jack was silent for a long beat. Then he asked the only question that mattered. The question that would burn him alive from the inside out until he actually voiced it. The question that made him feel as if he'd swallowed glass shards as he asked, "Will I be working with Sophie?"
Wesley's jaw clenched. "She is Weller's assistant."
"So yes."
Those knowing green eyes narrowed. "Is that going to be a problem?"
Yes. "No."
"She won't recognize you. What're you worried about?" Wesley folded his hands on top of the desk.
Jack wasn't worried about her. He was worried he couldn't stay objective around her. Sophie thought he was dead. And thanks to expensive facial reconstruction—all part of the deal in killing off his former identity when he'd joined Wesley's team with the NSA—she'd never know his true identity. Still, the thought of being in the same zip code as her sent flashes of heat racing down his spine. With a petite, curvy body made for string bikinis and wet T-shirt contests, Sophie was the kind of woman to make a man do a double take. He'd spent too many hours dreaming about running his hands through that thick dark hair again as she rode him. When they were seventeen, she'd been his ultimate fantasy and once they'd finally crossed that line from friends to lovers, there had been no keeping their hands off each other. They'd had sex three or four times a day whenever they'd been able to sneak away and get a little privacy. And it had never been enough with Sophie. She'd consumed him then. Now his boss wanted him to voluntarily work with her. "Why not send another agent?"
"I don't want anyone else. In fact, no one else here knows you're going in as Keane's partner except me."
Jack frowned. It wasn't the first time he'd gone undercover with only Wesley as his sole contact, but if his boss had people already working on the connection between Vargas and SBMS, it would be protocol for the direct team to know he was going in undercover. "Why?"
"I don't want to risk a leak. If I'm the only one who knows you're not who you say you are, there's no chance of that."
There was more to it than that, but Jack didn't question him. He had that blank expression Jack recognized all too well that meant he wouldn't be getting any more, not even under torture.
Wesley continued. "You know more about Sophie than most people. I want you to use that knowledge to get close to her. I don't think I need to remind you that this is a matter of national security."
"I haven't seen her since I was eighteen." And not a day went by that he didn't think of the ways he'd failed her. What the hell was Wesley thinking?
"It's time for you to face your past, Jack." His boss suddenly straightened and took on that professorial/fatherly look Jack was accustomed to.
"Is that what this is about? Me, facing my past?" he ground out. Fuck that. If he wanted to keep his memories buried, he damn well would.
Wesley shrugged noncommittally. "You will complete this mission."
As Jack stood, he clenched his jaw so he wouldn't say something he'd regret. Part of him wanted to tell Wesley to take his order and shove it, but another part—his most primal side—hummed with anticipation at the thought of seeing Sophie. She'd always brought out his protective side. Probably because she'd been his entire fucking world at one time and looking out for her had been his number-one priority.
He'd noticed Sophie long before she'd been aware of his existence, but once he was placed in the same foster house as her, they'd quickly become best friends. Probably because he hadn't given her a choice in being his friend. He'd just pushed right past her shy exterior until she came to him about anything and everything. Then one day she'd kissed him. He shoved that thought right out of his mind.
"There's a car waiting to take you to the flight strip. Once you land in Miami, there will be another car waiting for you. There's a full wardrobe, and anything else you'll need at the condo we've arranged."
"What about my laptop?"
"It's in the car."
When he was halfway to the door, his boss stopped him again. "You need to face your demons, Jack. Seeing Sophie is the only way you'll ever exorcise them. Maybe you can settle down and start a family once you do. I want to see you happy, son."
Son. If only he'd had a father like Wesley growing up. But if he had, he wouldn't have ended up where he was today. And he'd probably never have met Sophie. That alone made his shitty childhood worth every punch and bruise he'd endured. Jack swallowed hard, but didn't turn around before exiting. His chest loosened a little when he was out from under Wesley's scrutiny. The older man might be in his early fifties, but with his skill set, Jack had no doubt his boss could take out any one of the men within their covert organization. That's why he was the deputy director of the NSA and the unidentified head of the covert group Jack worked for.
Officially, Black Death 9 didn't exist. Unofficially, the name was whispered in back rooms and among other similar black ops outfits within the government. Their faction was just another classified group of men and women working to keep their country safe. At times like this Jack wished the NSA didn't have a thick file detailing every minute detail of his past. If they didn't, another agent would be heading for Miami right now and he'd be on his way to a four-star hotel or on another mission.
Jack mentally shook himself as he placed his hand on the elevator scanner. Why was Wesley trying to get under his skin? Now, of all times? The man was too damn intuitive for his own good. He'd been after him for years to see Sophie in person, "to find closure" as he put it, but Jack couldn't bring himself to do it. He had no problem facing down the barrel of a loaded gun, but seeing the woman with the big brown eyes and the soft curves he so often dreamed about—no, thank you.
As the elevator opened into the aboveground parking garage, he shoved those thoughts away. He'd be seeing Sophie in two days. Didn't matter what he wanted.
• • •
Sophie Moreno took a deep, steadying breath and eased open the side door to one of Keane Flight's hangars. She had a key, so it wasn't as though she was technically breaking in. She was just coming by on a Sunday night when no one was here. And the place was empty. And she just happened to be wearing a black cap to hide her hair.
Oh yeah, she was completely acting like a normal, law-abiding citizen. Cringing at her stupid rationalization, she pushed any fears of getting caught she had to the side. What she was doing wasn't about her.
She loved her job at South Beach Medical Supply, but lately her boss had been acting weird and the flight logs from Keane Flight for SBMS's recent deliveries didn't make sense. They hadn't for the past few months.
And no one—meaning her boss, Ronald Weller—would answer her questions when she brought up anything about Keane Flight.
Considering Ronald hadn't asked her over to dinner in the past few months either as he normally did, she had a feeling he and his wife must be having problems. They'd treated her like a daughter for almost as long as she'd been with SBMS, so if he was too distracted to look into things because of personal issues, she was going to take care of this herself. SBMS provided much-needed medical supplies to third-world countries, and she wasn't going to let anything jeopardize that. People needed them. And if she could help out Ronald, she wanted to.
She didn't even know what she was looking for, but she'd decided to trust her gut and come here. Wearing all black, she felt a little stupid, like a cat burglar or something, but she wanted to be careful. Hell, she'd even parked outside the hangar and sneaked in through an opening in the giant fence surrounding the private airport. The security here should have been tighter—something she would address later. After she'd done her little B&E. God, she was so going to get in trouble if she was caught. She could tell herself that she wasn't "technically" doing anything wrong, but her palms were sweaty as she stole down the short hallway to where it opened up into a large hangar.
Two twin-engine planes sat there, and the overhead lights from the warehouselike building were dim. But they were bright enough for her to make out a lot of cargo boxes and crates at the foot of one of the planes. The back hatch was open and it looked as if someone had started loading the stuff, then stopped.
Sophie glanced around the hangar as she stepped fully into it just to make sure she was alone. Normally Paul Keane had standard security here. She'd actually been here a couple of weeks ago under the guise of needing paperwork and there had been two Hispanic guys hovering near the planes as if they belonged there. She'd never seen them before and they'd given her the creeps. They'd also killed her chance of trying to sneak in and see what kind of cargo was on the planes.
When she'd asked Paul about them, he'd just waved off her question by telling her he'd hired new security.
One thing she knew for sure. He'd lied straight to her face. Those guys were sure as hell not security. One of them had had a MAC-10 tucked into the front of his pants. She might not know everything about weapons, but she'd grown up in shitty neighborhoods all over Miami, so she knew enough. And no respectable security guy carried a MAC-10 with a freaking suppressor. That alone was incredibly shady. The only people she'd known to carry that type of gun were gangbangers and other thugs.
So even if she felt a little crazy for sneaking down here, she couldn't go to her boss about any illegal activities—if there even were any—without proof. SBMS was Ronald's heart. He loved the company and she did too. No one was going to mess with it if she had anything to say about it.
Since the place was empty, she hurried across the wide expanse, her black ballet-slipper-type shoes virtually silent. When she neared the back of the plane, she braced herself for someone to be waiting inside.
It was empty except for some crates. Bypassing the crates on the outside, she ran up inside the plane and took half a dozen pictures of the crates with the SBMS logo on the outside. Then she started opening them.
By the time she opened the fifth crate, she was starting to feel completely insane, but as she popped the next lid, ice chilled her veins. She blinked once and struggled to draw in a breath, sure she was seeing things.
A black grenade peeked through the yellow-colored stuffing at the top. Carefully she lifted a bundle of it. There were more grenades lining the smaller crate, packed tight with the fluffy material. Her heart hammered wildly as it registered that Keane was likely running arms and weapons using SBMS supplies as cover, but she forced herself to stay calm. Pulling out her cell phone, she started snapping pictures of the inside of the crate, then pictures that showed the logo on the outside. In the next crate she found actual guns. AK-47s, she was pretty sure. She'd never actually seen one in real life before, but it looked like what she'd seen in movies. After taking pictures of those, she hurried out of the back of the plane toward the crates sitting behind it.
Before she could decide which one to open first, a loud rolling sound rent the air—the hangar door!
Ducking down, she peered under the plane and saw the main door the planes entered and exited through starting to open. Panic detonated inside her. She had no time to do anything but run. Without pause, she raced back toward the darkened hallway. She'd go out the back, the same way she'd come in. All she had to do was get to that hallway before whoever—
"Hey!" a male voice shouted.
Crap, someone had seen her. She shoved her phone in her back pocket and sprinted even faster as she cleared the hallway. Fear ripped through her, threatening to pull her apart at the seams. She wouldn't risk turning around and letting anyone see her face.
The exit door clanged against the wall as she slammed it open. Male voices shouted behind her, ordering her to stop in Spanish.
Her lungs burned and her legs strained with each pounding step against the pavement. She really wished she'd worn sneakers. As she reached the edge of the fence that thankfully had no lighting and was lined with bushes and foliage behind it, she dove for the opening. If she hadn't known where it was, it would be almost impossible to find without the aid of light.
Crawling on her hands and knees, she risked a quick glance behind her. Two men were running across the pavement toward the fence, weapons silhouetted in their hands. She couldn't see their faces because the light from the back of the hangar was behind them, but they were far enough away that she should be able to escape. They slowed as they reached the fence, both looking around in confusion.
"Adonde se fue?" one of them snarled.
Sophie snorted inwardly as she shoved up from the ground and disappeared behind the bushes. They'd never catch her now. Not unless they could jump fences in single bounds. Twenty yards down, her car was still parked on the side of the back road where she'd left it.
The dome light came on when she opened the door, so she shut it as quickly as possible. She started her car but immediately turned off the automatic lights and kicked the vehicle into drive. Her tires made a squealing sound and she cringed. She needed to get out of there before those men figured out how to get through the fence. She couldn't risk them seeing her license plate. Only law enforcement should be able to track plates, but people who were clearly running weapons wouldn't care about breaking laws to find out who she was.
She glanced in the rearview mirror as her car disappeared down the dark road, and didn't see anyone in the road or by the side of it. Didn't mean they weren't there, though. Pure adrenaline pumped through her as she sped away, tearing through her like jagged glass, but her hands remained steady on the wheel.
What the hell was she supposed to do now? If she called the cops, this could incriminate SBMS and that could ruin all the good work their company had done over the past decade. And what if by the time the cops got there all the weapons were gone? Then she'd look crazy and would have admitted to breaking into a private airport hangar, which was against the law. Okay, the cops were out. For now. First she needed to talk to her boss. He'd know what to do and they could figure out this mess together.
Chapter 2
Legend: an agent's alleged background and personal history, usually supported by documents and memorized details.
Printing out flight logs from Keane Flight's most recent deliveries, Sophie frowned at the computer screen in front of her when her intercom beeped. She'd been too terrified to get more than a couple of hours of sleep last night, and her calls to Ronald had gone unanswered. Since she hadn't wanted to leave a message on his phone about what she'd found, she'd decided to talk to him this morning. Right now he was in a meeting, but as soon as he was free, she was telling him everything. She'd e-mailed herself the pictures, but she'd also printed some to give him. He needed to see everything in color. Then they could figure out how to move forward. If that meant involving the police, then so be it.
"Sophie, I've got Hannah Young on line three. She says it's urgent," Mandy, her assistant, said.
"Got it. Thanks." She wanted to ignore the call, but Hannah was her best friend and she needed to act normal at work right now. "What are you doing up at seven thirty on a Monday?"
Her best friend groaned. "I can't sleep. I'm still reliving the horror of last night's date."
Despite the rampant adrenaline still pumping through her, a small smile touched her lips. Talking about Hannah's dating life would be a welcome momentary distraction. "I thought you were going out with the 'hot Italian.' What happened?"
"After dinner we went back to his place. We're on his couch, making out, when someone knocks on his door."
"How late was this?"
"Ten. He looks through the peephole, freaks out like a little girl, and makes me hide in his closet."
"Uh, what?"
"Thank you! Ridiculous. He told me it was his ex-girlfriend and that she's crazy, so I asked him why he didn't just ignore her. He says that if he does, she'll keep knocking all night."
"What did you do?"
Hannah sighed. "What else? I hid in the closet until they started going at it. On. His. Bed."
Sophie choked out a sound.
"They actually started having sex on his bed with me in the closet. Freak," she muttered.
"I can't believe you stayed that long!"
Hannah chuckled, the sound wicked. "Just as he was about to, you know, I walked out and told him never to call me again. His expression was priceless and I could still hear her shrieks by the time I was outside."
"If I didn't know you, I'd swear you made this stuff up." Sophie had been listening to these stories since college. If there was a crazy in a ten-mile radius, Hannah would find him. It was as if she had a homing beacon attached to her.
"Now that you've heard my horror story, you have to take pity on me and meet me for happy hour after work. If that doesn't convince you, two-fifty martinis better."
Under normal circumstances Sophie would have loved to have met her friend. But she couldn't say yes to anything until she'd talked to her boss. "I can't tonight. Work is insane right now." Okay, not exactly a lie.
"Come on, one night off won't kill you."
Sophie shut her eyes and massaged her temple. She was desperate to tell someone what she'd seen. It was like a need growing inside her to just get the information off her chest, but she bit it back. There was no way she'd ever put anyone she loved in danger. "I can't, but I swear I'll make it up to you."
"You suck, but okay." There was laughter in Hannah's voice, so Sophie knew her friend wasn't actually mad. "By the way, my mom wants to know why you haven't been over in the past couple of weeks. She thinks you've found someone else to cook for you."
She snorted. "Right. Will you tell her I've been busy?" Sophie had met Hannah's mom during her first spring break in college, and the woman had taken her in as her own. After Sophie's growing up in foster care, having a real mother figure was a new experience but one she'd embraced.
"You tell her. I talked to her last night and she wanted to know why I haven't married a rich doctor yet. I'm taking a couple days off from torture."
Sophie shook her head. "Fine. I've got to go but I'll see you tonight."
As soon as they disconnected, she pulled the logs she'd been reviewing back onto her screen. Gas charges and mileage weren't matching up, and after last night she knew why. They were carrying way too much cargo. She clicked her pen up and down as she stared at the screen. Damn it, why wouldn't Ronald call her back? She wanted to scream. When an e-mail marked urgent from one of their biggest suppliers popped up on the bottom of her screen, she sighed and closed the other file. She could stare at her computer all day or keep herself distracted with work.
After taking care of her client, she made a serious dent in the quarterlies, though images of grenades and guns hovered at the back of her mind. She'd tried buzzing Ronald three more times, but he hadn't been in his office and no one had been able to find him. Just as she stood, ready to hunt him down, her assistant buzzed her office. "Sophie, Mr. Weller wants to see you in his office. There's a man from Keane Flight here. He's yummy." Mandy whispered the last part before clicking off.
Sophie's knees weakened for a moment. Someone from Keane Flight? Oh God, what if it was one of those scary men from last night? Maybe they'd figured out she'd been the one to break in. There hadn't been any video cameras—she'd noticed that Paul had taken them down when she'd been there for her last surprise visit—but maybe they'd seen her car. Sophie swallowed hard and shoved the folder containing the pictures she'd taken into her desk. She'd wanted to bring them to Ronald, but she wouldn't risk it with someone from Keane Flight in there.
She swallowed hard but found her voice. "Thank you, Mandy." Mandy had been her intern last year and, when she graduated, had applied for a job. She definitely didn't have the experience Sophie had been looking for, but the woman was a fast learner.
After straightening her pencil skirt and smoothing on lip gloss, Sophie grabbed a notepad and pen. She had to appear normal when going to Ronald's office. Plus, holding something felt a bit like having armor. She shut her office door behind her and stopped at Mandy's desk. "I sent some stuff to the printer. Would you organize everything and put it in a binder for me?"
"No problem."
"One more thing." Sophie glanced behind her. Two other administrative assistants shared the open space with Mandy, and she didn't want them overhearing. "Don't let anyone into my office while I'm gone. I've locked it and you have the only other key."
A slight frown marred her pretty face. "Is there a problem? Did I do something wrong?"
"No. I'm just working on some stuff right now that Mr. Weller wants to keep private."
Immediately Mandy's mouth relaxed into a smile. "Oh, okay."
Sophie clutched her notebook to her side as she headed down the long hallway toward her boss's office. In addition to what she'd discovered last night, lately she suspected that things in her own office had been out of place. A paperweight and paper clip holder had been moved on more than one occasion. It was small stuff and maybe she was being paranoid, but she'd learned long ago to trust her gut. Considering what she'd found last night, she was never ignoring her instinct again.
She half knocked as she entered Ronald's office. She was officially his assistant, but not in the sense that Mandy was her assistant. He didn't like to deal with anyone but her, which was why Sophie was surprised he'd told Mandy he needed to see her instead of coming to her directly. Maybe he really was ignoring her calls.
"Good morning, Sophie." Ronald gave her a tired smile as he looked up from his desk. Deep lines etched the grooves around his mouth.
There was no one in his office, so whoever they were meeting with must have stepped out. Which gave her the perfect opportunity to talk to her boss in private. "Ronald, we need to talk. Didn't you get my calls last night?"
He shook his head, but the guilty flush spreading up his cheeks gave him away. Sophie reeled back as if slapped. He had been ignoring her. What the hell? She gritted her teeth, quickly moving past the hurt. "I discovered something . . . important." She nearly snorted at that understatement.
His face paled. "Can it wait?"
"No, it can't." As she stared at the man in front of her, she tried to find the right words to just come out and say what she'd found. Something about his expression was just off. He looked almost haggard, so unlike the man she'd come to love and trust. She'd been twenty-two and right out of college when he'd given her a job. Not to mention that the company had paid for her master's degree. She didn't have any family and he'd always been a father figure to her. Anyone would have been better than the asshole foster fathers she'd endured over the years, but Ronald was truly kind. Even with the panic humming through her, seeing him this way pulled at her heartstrings.
Ronald sighed and his eyes flashed with something she couldn't define. Pain? "We'll talk, but not here. Just wait—"
He abruptly stopped talking and his gaze trailed over her shoulder at the sound of the door opening. Sophie shifted in her seat and glanced behind her.
She blinked once as she made eye contact with the stranger entering the room. Staring into those eyes made her feel as if she'd been punched in the stomach. A raw sort of awareness stirred inside her, making her throat tighten and somewhere a lot lower heat up completely against her will. Mandy's description of "yummy" was so very incorrect. A cupcake was yummy. This man was like a decadent triple-chocolate truffle cake with chocolate shavings sprinkled on top. Considering the crap she needed to deal with, noticing someone in such a sexual way—someone she clearly couldn't trust—was beyond stupid. And definitely not like her. Only one man had ever had this raw effect on her. Though he hadn't been quite a man. He'd been growing into a very handsome one and—damn it. She shook herself, trying to quash this strange sexual awareness that had erupted inside her.
Almost against her will, Sophie's eyes trailed over him. The man seemed to make the room shrink just by stepping inside. It wasn't that he was overly tall. He was maybe six feet, but he had a strong, domineering . . . presence. His shoulders almost appeared to strain against his suit, as if he'd be more comfortable chopping lumber or something else equally and ridiculously masculine. When the sudden—unexpected and definitely absurd—thought of what it might feel like to have those strong arms around her popped into her head, she felt herself blushing furiously. This visceral reaction was too weird and brought up too many unwanted memories. When she focused on his face once again, her heart skipped a beat. "Holy shit."
The man jerked to a halt and she realized she'd said the words out loud. She cringed and ordered herself to get it together.
"Ah . . . sorry." What else could she say, that she'd suddenly developed a mild case of Tourette's?
"Sophie, this is Jack Baldwin. He's been a silent partner with Keane Flight until recently." Ronald's words blew right past her as she continued to watch the stranger.
He had pale bluish gray eyes she'd never seen on anyone before except . . . Sam. Eyes with the seemingly endless depth of the unforgiving ocean. So deep she could drown in them. She wanted to look away, but couldn't even pretend not to stare. And he was definitely looking back. Watching her with a mix of curiosity and something she couldn't begin to define.
The harsh lines and angles of his face gave him a unique, almost statuesque quality. As if he'd been carved out of stone. He wasn't handsome in the typical Hollywood sense, but any woman with a pulse would certainly do a double take. Maybe even a triple take. He even had the same dark hair as Sam. For a brief moment she could feel herself drowning as memories attacked her.
Sam carrying her books home from school. Protecting her from neighborhood bullies. Staying up late with her when she needed help studying. Sam kissing her, making love to her, going with her to the beach even though he hated it, holding her when she'd had a bad day.
Sam is dead. The jarring thought was the only thing that gave her the power to tear away from this stranger's far-too-intimate gaze. Feeling an ache deep inside, she absently rubbed the middle of her chest until she realized what she was doing. She nervously cleared her throat and hoped her blush had started to recede as she found her voice. Right now Keane was at the top of her shit list. She wasn't going to let a handsome face distract her. "Recently?"
"Yes . . . Please, have a seat." Ronald half stood and motioned to the other man to sit. Sophie noticed his voice shook a little. Maybe he was intimidated by this man.
Not that she blamed him.
In a few long strides, Jack Baldwin was sitting on a burgundy high-backed chair identical to the one she sat on a mere foot away. The briefest whisper of a familiar scent tickled her nose. Something spicy, masculine, and earthy that made her toes curl in her sling-backs. Clearly it had been too long since she'd had sex if even the intoxicating scent of a possible arms dealer was affecting her. It was the only thing that explained her raw reaction.
The corners of his lips pulled up slightly as he nodded at her—as if he knew what she was thinking. The very thought was horrifying. "Pleased to meet you."
Against her will, she found herself staring at his mouth. Instinctively she moistened her own dry lips. When she did, his jaw muscle flicked, drawing her attention back to those intoxicating eyes. Oh, crap. The blush was back. She could feel heat creeping up her neck and cheeks, and for a brief moment she thanked God for her Cuban heritage. She vainly hoped her darker skin would cover her embarrassment, but knew it was unlikely.
"Likewise, Mr. Baldwin." She shifted in her seat, turning slightly away from him. God, she needed to get whatever this feeling was under control. Maybe if she didn't look at him she could tune out all that raw, unwanted sexuality.
"Call me Jack." His voice was low and sensual. It rolled over her with the subtlety of a tidal wave, sending unexpected shivers to all her nerve endings. Why was it so familiar? It reminded her slightly of Sam, but it was deeper, more masculine. Like what Sam would have sounded like if he'd been allowed to grow up fully. She shook herself at the depressing, and insane, thought.
Why did she have the urge to say Jack's name out loud? Just to feel it on her tongue. Her nipples tightened at the thought of saying that name under very different circumstances. Right then and there, Sophie felt like a crazy person. This was so unlike her, this . . . sexual hunger. And there was no other word for what she was feeling.
Ronald's voice grounded her, forcing her to look away again. "Like I was saying, Jack here will be filling in for Paul."
She frowned at her boss, wishing she could tell him everything she'd found last night. "Why?"
The other man answered before Ronald could speak. "He was in a terrible car accident and is unable to handle the day-to-day dealings, so you're stuck with me." His lips pulled up again, this time self-deprecatingly.
Or she was under the impression that was what he was going for. The action was a little too practiced. Sophie chewed on her bottom lip as she tried to gauge his expression. There was something else underneath that charming and sexy veneer that didn't sit right. This was the first she'd heard about a car accident. It was also the first she'd heard of a silent partner and they'd been working with Keane for about eight years. Since the year she'd started at SBMS, in fact.
"Paul was in an accident? Is he going to be okay?"
"The doctors aren't sure yet. He's in a coma and it's touch-and-go right now," the newcomer said quietly.
She glanced back at her boss for confirmation. Ronald just nodded. Even if Paul was hurt she was still unsure why Jack Baldwin was even here. It wasn't as though they worked for Keane. No, it was the other way around. So why was his partner here now? And why was this the first she'd heard of him? And why the hell were there freaking weapons in the plane she'd broken into last night?
As if the other man read her mind, he said, "I'm sure you're wondering why I'm here. Ronald has agreed to let me borrow you for the day as my personal tour guide of the company."
"Why?" she asked bluntly, not caring how rude she sounded.
His eyebrows lifted as if she'd taken him off guard. The movement was slight, but she couldn't help feeling as if she were under a microscope.
Oh, crap, did he know she was the one who'd broken into Keane Flight last night? She fought the urge to squirm in her chair. The way this man was studying her was unnerving. "Uh, why do you need a tour guide?" she asked, this time more politely.
"Mr. Baldwin is thinking of investing in SBMS and wants to see the day-to-day operations," Ronald said smoothly.
"I see." Though she didn't. Not at all. "When would you like to start? I can schedule something tomorrow—"
"How about I take you to lunch and then we get started?" Somehow the man's question sounded more like an order.
"Uh, sure." Now she definitely sounded rude.
"Is La Marea okay?" There was a slight touch of amusement in his voice.
"That sounds wonderful." Okay, that was a much politer response. Good for her. La Marea was an expensive restaurant for a work lunch, but it was also her favorite place. For some reason, it annoyed her that he'd picked it. As if he knew more about her than he should.
Jack followed suit as she stood. She looked at her boss. "You coming?" Please say yes. She tried to will him to respond. All she needed was a few minutes of his time.
Ronald shook his head and grabbed his briefcase. "You two go ahead. I've got a meeting to head to."
A strange panic settled in her gut at the thought of being alone with Jack Baldwin before she'd spoken to Ronald. Ignoring the newcomer, she looked pointedly at her boss. "I need to talk to you in private before I leave."
"It'll have to wait, Sophie." His voice was tired, strained.
"I have a meeting," he snapped, taking her completely off guard.
She recoiled at the abrupt tone. Ronald had never spoken to her like that, and even though it was childish, she felt stung. Fighting the sudden onslaught of emotions, she turned and found Jack staring at her as if he could see straight through to her innermost thoughts. How the hell did he do that? It was so damn jarring, but she couldn't tear her gaze from those pale eyes.
He was definitely good-looking in that rugged, muscular Marlboro man sort of way. And something told her he didn't get those muscles from a gym. Which made her wonder exactly what kind of exercise he did to warrant that clearly fit body.
There was something about him that triggered her feminine awareness. He wasn't doing anything outwardly offensive. It was something primal he exuded. Something akin to death clung to him, and it put all of her senses on red alert. Yeah, she definitely needed to get away from him. Maybe she could call Ronald on the walk to her office and make him listen. Short of tackling him and forcing her boss to sit and listen to a few words, she had no other choice but to play it cool and act normal. At least until she knew what was going on and especially in front of this particular stranger. "I need to grab my purse if you don't mind wait—"
"I'll walk you to your office." There he went with that deep voice again, sending tingles straight to her toes.
It rankled her that when he spoke it sounded like a command. He was quiet the entire walk to her office. Sure, it was only at the other end of the hall, but it dragged on for an eternity. Unable to help herself, she snuck a quick glance at him. Even his profile was intimidating.
Well, except for his mouth. It looked absolutely kissable. Which was plain wrong. A man with such a hard exterior shouldn't have inviting lips.
His square jaw clenched as if he was aware of her scrutiny. Swallowing, she glanced away, horrified that she was having these thoughts about a possibly dangerous stranger. She blamed her response on his eyes. They looked so much like her first love's it was beyond startling.
As soon as they stepped into the receptionist's area, Mandy smiled and handed her a white binder. "This is the information you requested on K—"
"Thank you, Mandy. I'll go over it later." Sophie quickly grabbed the binder and tucked it under her arm, hoping the man next to her didn't notice the Keane cover Mandy had thoughtfully put on it. He definitely didn't need to know she'd been looking into his company before he arrived. Not until she knew what his deal was or why he was really here.
Thankfully Jack didn't follow Sophie into her office. She unlocked her drawer and pulled out her purse. She started to put the binder in her drawer, but slipped it into her purse instead. She also shoved the pictures she'd planned to show Ronald into her purse, then tucked the flash drive she'd saved them on into her bra. She might have e-mailed herself the pictures and have them saved in her online mobile album, but she wanted another backup and she was taking it with her.
Ronald might be acting like a jackass right now, but after this stupid lunch she was hunting him down and making him listen to her. If she had to spend a little time with the sexy, intimidating, and probably criminal Jack, so be it.
Chapter 3
Contract killer: a person hired to kill a selected target or targets for money.
From the doorway of Sophie's office, Jack watched her walk around her desk. Her slim-fitting skirt hugged her in all the right places. Even though she had on a jacket, her small breasts were outlined perfectly. Nothing about her outfit was overtly sexual, but simply watching her move around her office got him hotter than anything any other woman had ever done. She didn't just move. The woman flowed with a grace that made staring at her an addiction. Something about the sleek tailored outfit made him wonder what she had on underneath. Plain cotton, or silk and lace? Or maybe nothing at all. When they were seventeen she'd usually worn Brazilian-style bottoms that showed the bottom half of her butt. Those things had driven him crazy, so of course she'd loved to walk around wearing only that when they'd been alone.
At that thought, his entire body tensed. When they were teenagers he'd wanted her so badly he couldn't think straight most of the time, but this reaction was different. It was . . . more. Intense. Like thirteen years of pent-up need clawing its way to the surface and just begging to be set free. He'd known coming on this mission so soon after that last op was a mistake, but hadn't been able to force himself to tell his boss no. Not when he'd been dying to see Sophie.
When she leaned over her desk to grab something, her dark hair cascaded over her shoulder and he couldn't help remembering what it had been like to run his hands through that thick mass as she rode him. Or as he'd taken her from behind. Or as they'd simply held each other and watched the ocean waves. Memories of their short time together had kept him sane during some of his nastier missions. Her smart-ass attitude and sense of humor had kept him entertained back when there wasn't much bright in his life. She'd been one of the few bright beacons in his world. He'd even categorized his life into "before Sophie" and "after Sophie." Because after he'd met her, he'd known on a fundamental level that she was meant for him.
Watching her now felt too surreal. The outline of her jaw, the gentle curve of her neck, her dark, intoxicating eyes. Despite the sharp angles of her exotic cheekbones, everything else about her compact body was soft and inviting. Especially her hips. She had just enough curves for a man to hold on to. Well, not any man. Only him. He wanted to bury his face against her neck, between her breasts, and definitely between her legs. God, if she knew what he was thinking now, she'd run. Or maybe not. He'd seen a hint of awareness in her eyes back in Ronald's office. It had been tempered with almost outright anger at his presence—which made him curious—but he was pretty sure she was attracted to him.
She paused before slipping the binder her assistant had given her into her purse, and then it looked as if she tucked something into her shirt. Since she had her back to him, it was difficult to see, but he found it interesting.
"Hey, Mandy. Is Sophie in her office?" A man's voice caused Jack to turn.
Jack quickly sized up the man standing at the receptionist's desk. He recognized him from one of the dossiers he'd studied. Benson Pollard. Been with the company six months. No red flags.
But Jack didn't like the familiar way he said Sophie's name.
Sophie walked out and smiled warmly when she saw the other man. A punch of need slammed into Jack, along with a healthy dose of jealousy. He hadn't seen that smile in too many years, and he didn't want her sharing it with anyone else. Crazy? Definitely. He just didn't care.
She hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder. "Hi, Benson. I'm just heading to lunch."
"I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to join me for lunch. Where are you headed?"
"It's a private lunch." Jack surprised himself and everyone else around him with his heated tone. Mandy's mouth dropped and the other man's eyes narrowed at him with barely concealed annoyance . . . and disgust?
What People are Saying About This
Praise for Targeted
"Fast-paced romantic suspense that will keep you on the edge of your seat!" —Cynthia Eden, USA Today bestselling author of Die For Me
"Sexy suspense at its finest." —Laura Wright, USA Today bestselling author of Eternal Demon
Praise for the Novels of Katie Reus
"Explosive danger and enough sexual tension to set the pages on fire!"—New York Times bestselling author Alexandra Ivy
"Reus has an instinct for what wows."—New York Times bestselling author Caridad Piñeiro
"Scorching chemistry…taut and passionate…will leave readers breathless!"—Stephanie Tyler, national bestselling author of Dire Desires
"A wild, hot ride for readers. The story grabs you and doesn't let go."—Cynthia Eden


text:
The very first generation Toyota Caldina was launched in November 1992 in action to the marketplace appeal of the Station Wagon, and it was established based upon the chassis of the Toyota Corona. Wagons as much as this point had actually been based upon the business van, so riding convenience and devices alternatives had actually been doing not have, however the Caldina was based upon the structure of a guest automobile, so these points were significantly enhanced. For the external design, the front face resembled that of the Corona, however from the B pillar and back, to accommodate the requirements of a station wagon, the design was recently established for an arranged and improved appearance. The body was a 5 number body, determining in length, width, and height at 4,545 mm, 1,695 mm, and 1,470 mm respectively.
When it comes to the interior, rather of streamlining the seats and devices like the audio system, the Caldina used the exact same components as a guest automobile, thus resulting in fantastic quality and texture; hence, terrific effort was made so that users changing from the sedan experienced no frustration.
Toyota Caldina Generation
The 1,838 cc 125-horsepower gas engine, 1,998 cc 135-horsepower gas engine, and 1,974 cc 73-horsepower diesel motor were offered. For the gas engines, the designated fuel was the routine fuel.
The transmissions that might be integrated with these were the 5-speed handbook or 4-speed automated.
When it comes to the drive system, the FF and 4WD were provided for the 1,998 cc 135-horsepower gas engines; for all others, just the FF was provided.
The fuel intake for these engines determined at:
1,998 cc 135 horse power (4WD) 10.2-- 12.0 km/L.
1,998 cc 135 horse power (FF) 11.2-- 12.0 km/L.
1,838 cc 125 horse power (FF) 12.2-- 14.8 km/L.
In February 1994, small modifications were made and using the Sky Canopy was broadened to more grades. Brand-new body colors were included, and the upholstery color was altered.
In February 1995, the 1,998 cc fuel engine with 175 horse power was recently included, causing additional enhancements in running efficiency. Full-flat functions were included to the front seats and reclining functions to the rear seats, hence improving riding convenience and functionality.
In January 1996, security functions were more broadened. Double air bags and ABS were set up to all automobiles as basic devices. The 1,762 cc fuel engine with 115 horse power and the 1,974 cc diesel engine with 88 horse power were included to the engine lineup. For the 1,762 cc 115-horsepower fuel engine, by presenting lean combustion, fuel intake was significantly enhanced to 15.6 km/L - 17.8 km/L.
2nd Generation (1997-2002).
In September 1997, a complete design modification caused the Caldina's development to its 2nd generation design. The exterior design went through significant modifications, going from the design based upon the Corona Sedan to a specific design established particularly for the Caldina. Automobiles bring turbocharged engines got an inner bulge in the center of the bonnet, hence making for a front location design that stressed sportiness. Rear mix lamps that had more unity with the front headlights were utilized, making for a design that obtained an image of excellent driving.
For the interior, a 3-spoke wheel and two-tone cockpit console were set up, hence matching the sportiness of the exterior.
The body determined in length, width, and height at 4,520 mm, 1,695 mm, and 1,570 mm respectively; hence, focus was put not on unnecessarily expanding the body, however on boosting functionality.
The engine lineup included the 1,762 cc engine with 115 horse power, 1,998 cc naturally aspirated engine with 135 horse power, turbocharged gas engine with 260 horse power, and 2,184 cc diesel motor with 94 horse power. For the turbocharged engine, the designated fuel was the high octane gas; for all others, the designated fuel was routine fuel.
The transmission alternatives that might be integrated with these were the 5-speed handbook and 4-speed automated.
In January 2000, small modifications were made, resulting in grade additions, growth of car variations, and changes to the exterior and interior designs. For the exterior, the designs of the front grille and bumper were altered for an increased air of novelty, and for the rear mix lamps, the design was altered to stress a crystal-like feel, resulting in a sportier appearance.
For the interior also, modifications were made to the seat covers to enhance quality and texture. Cordless door locks were set up to all automobiles as basic devices.
Third Generation (2002-2007).
In the month of September 2002, another complete design modification caused the intro of the 3rd generation design. The exterior design went through a substantial facelift, using "The Touring Device" design idea and stressing sportiness. To the front, a long vertical lights were additional bigger, and a three-dimensional front grille was a distinguishing characteristic. Window graphics made by a reverse inclined C pillar and acute-angle rear mix lamps were likewise unique qualities of this design.
In terms of the interior as well, colored panels were set up to the center console and guiding switch, preserving the design idea of the exterior in the within.
For this design, a focus on sportiness was used to not just the design, however likewise the running efficiency. For specific grades, an inverted shock absorber and a damper cylinder set up on the front of the suspension system, enhancing guiding efficiency in accordance with the high power output engine.
The engine lineup included the 1,794 cc with 132horsepower, the 1,998 cc naturally aspirated direct injection engine with 152 horse power, and the 1,998 cc fuel engine with 260 horse power and turbocharger. The diesel motor was eliminated from the lineup.
The transmission for all automobiles was the 4-speed automated.
In December 2003, for the classy grade, the panel of the center cluster was made silver, and the seat covers were likewise made suede to additional enhance quality and texture.
Toyota Caldina Generation
In January 2005, small modifications were made to the exterior and interior design. For the exterior, the front bumper's lower grille was separated to 2 sides, hence stressing a broader feel. The front grille was revamped to be a cross-rail type and incorporated with the headlights and bumper for a more unified appearance. For the interior also, modifications were made to the color to increase an air of novelty.
In regards to the engines brought, the 1,998 cc 152-horsepower engine was altered from direct injection to lean combustion, and fuel usage enhanced appropriately to 13.2 km/L.

subset: commoncrawl


text:
|Tiêu đề
|Formulas for the H/V ratio of Rayleigh waves in incompressible pre-stressed half-spaces
|Loại công bố
|Journal Article
|Năm xuất bản
|Tác giả
|Vinh, PC, Tuan, TT, Hue, LT
|Tạp chí
|Archives of Mechanics
|Thể tích
|Start Page
|Tóm tắt
In this paper, the propagation of a Rayleigh wave in an incompressible prestressed elastic half-space is considered. The main aim is to derive exact formulas for the H/V ratio, the ratio of the amplitude of the horizontal displacement to the amplitude of the vertical displacement of the Rayleigh wave. First, the H/V ratio equations are obtained using the secular equation and the relation between the H/V ratio and the Rayleigh wave velocity. Then, the exact formulas for the H/V ratio have been derived for a general strain-energy function by analytically solving the H/V ratio equations. These formulas are then specified to several particular strain-energy functions. Since the obtained formulas are exact and totally explicit, they will be a good tool for nondestructively evaluating pre-stresses of structures before and during loading.


text:
What is a research nurse and what do they do?
Feb 11, 2013 in Professional Development, Research
I am often asked, by nurses not working in research, "what is a research nurse and what do they do" "what are the responsibilities of a research nurse"? When I start to think about all of the steps involved in developing research projects and how research nurses get involved in a research project, the list of what a research nurse could be doing is quite extensive. It is not often that a single research role would encompass all the possible responsibilities of a research nurse but I believe most research nurse roles share some common elements.
Protocol Development
The first phase of a research project, whether it be a study or a clinical trial (a clinical trial meaning it is a study which involves an unlicensed drug which is being tested), is the development of a study protocol: what are we trying to determine, how will we measure this, what tests will need to be undertaken by patients and at what time points, what clinical data will need to be collected, will blood tests be required, how often and will this coincide with regular patient visits or will these be extra visits to the hospital. There is usually a team involved in developing the protocol but it is really very important that research nurses be included at this stage as they know patients, they know the care pathway. They have invaluable knowledge and experience to help researchers gather the information they will need to draw conclusions from the study, while taking into consideration what a patient would be happy to undergo if they decide to participate. If the demands are too great or the criteria for inclusion too strict, it may be difficult to recruit patients or they may want to abandon the study before it finishes. If there is a good balance between the needs of the research and the patients involved, everyone will be much happier with both the process and the outcomes.
Informed Consent
Once a protocol is developed a Patient Information Sheet (PIS) and consent form must be written. This PIS contains all the information required by law to be shared with a potential study participant by the research team. Often research nurses will write the PIS and consent form as they have a good understanding of the study, the regulations and legislation that govern what constitutes an informed consent process and they know how to speak to patients in a way that allows patients to understand complex scientific and medical information. Written information is part of the informed consent process but verbal discussion around the study, the responsibilities of participants, the foreseen benefits and potential risks and data protection and on-going sharing of information regarding the study also plays a big part of the informed consent process and again is often a significant responsibility of the research nurse.
Study Approvals
Approvals by Ethics Committees and NHS R & D, and for clinical trials the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency (MHRA), are required before any study can begin to recruit patients. Some research nurses have the responsibility of completing these application forms and submitting them to the appropriate authorities for review and approval.
Patient Recruitment
Patient recruitment is also often the responsibility of the research nurse, and where nurses spend a good deal of their time. Studies vary but mostly, research nurses identify where on a care pathway it is best to approach potential patients for a study or a clinical trial. They may screen hospital notes or attend Multi Disciplinary Team (MDT) meetings to highlight which patients are suitable for which study so that the care team seeing the patients in clinics can offer a study or clinical trial as a care option to suitable patients. This may seem straight forward but often isn't. Success in offering a study to all suitable patients requires research nurses to network within the care teams, to make sure the study or studies they are working on remain(s) visible at the MDT and that the patients, once they attend their visit, do receive the offer and necessary information to make an informed decision as to whether or not they choose to participate. This is also where research nurses use their innovation to develop tools and ways to keep their study fresh in the mind of the care team and to ease the team's effort in approaching all patients who may be suitable. In busy clinics and wards, research can sometimes be seen as non-essential. A good research nurse uses every challenge as an opportunity to dissolve the barrier between care and research so that we will one day integrate the two, so as to deliver excellence in healthcare.
Data Collection and Safety Reporting
The research nurse then follows the patients recruited to a clinical trial or study through their treatment making sure they attend all necessary visits as per protocol and that all necessary data is collected at each visit. Accurate and complete data is as important in research as the care of the patients as it is the information collected at each time point that will be used to determine the study outcome. Without accurate compliance to a protocol and accurate data collection, a study is not worth the efforts of all included – least of all the patients who gave of their time and themselves to a study.
Another important aspect of data collecting is 'Safety Reporting', this involves collecting data on untoward reactions patient may experience to the drug being investigating. Sometimes these untoward reactions can be expected meaning they have already been reported by other study participants but sometimes reactions can be new and not yet seen in anyone taking the study drug. Fast and clear reporting of adverse reactions are very important especially when they are more serious. Researchers are constantly looking at the balance between effectiveness of a drug and its side effects. The benefits must outweigh the risks. When testing a new drug that we are still learning about, it requires skill to identify all adverse reactions and knowledge of how these reactions must be dealt with to maintain participants' safety and well being which is always the top priority in clinical trials. Research nurses develop strong communication and history taking skills to deliver deliver robust safety data and maintain patient safety.
Tissue and Sample Collection and Processing
In many research roles, lab skills are often acquired by research nurses. Blood samples are processed using a centrifuge; serum and plasma are batched into aliquots and frozen for later analysis. Some studies collect other types of specimens which are also stored for later analysis. Sometimes biopsy tissue is collected which requires nurses to attend surgical procedures or radiologically guided procedure under local anaesthetic. Again collection of samples at specific time points and proper care of these samples during processing and storing are equally as important as the data collected. These samples will be analysed and used to determine the outcome of the study; integrity of samples is crucial for drawing conclusions with confidence.
There are many different people, departments and external agencies involved in clinical research and the research nurse is often the "central hub" for a study. The research nurse is often the point of contact for patients. He or she is there to answer any questions the patient may have regarding the study – from their initial introduction to the study until they finish the trial. The research nurse often has to triage phone calls from patients who call with complaints, and must have the knowledge and confidence to handle these calls efficiently and safely while understanding his/her limitations and referring patients to other members of the care team when necessary. There is also a great deal of communication with the pharmaceutical company if the study is commercially sponsored as well as the various departments involved in the study such as imaging, pathology and labs.
The above is not an exhaustive list of the responsibilities of the research nurse, but rather it is an overview of the role. It is a role that requires a person to have initiative and drive to keep all aspects of a study relevant every step of the way. Often nurses are drawn to research because they feel it is exciting to be at the cutting edge of new developments and they like being part of making things better and they are attracted to the autonomy that research roles offer.
Is research nursing for you? Well if you like working autonomously within a team, if you are happy to roll your sleeves up and give it your best, if you have a good sense of Ethics in action and you like the idea of being part of change …maybe research nursing is for you! Why not give it a try?
Clinfield offers courses on Informed Consent, Applying for Ethical Opinion in the NHS and a more general introduction to managing clinical trials Clinical Research: Getting Started!
18 Responses to What is a research nurse and what do they do?
The research is very interesting. Not only it generates new knowledge, but it also allows to predict the future for the people involved (researchers and others). Here I am referring to correlative studies preachers.
Research is also interactive. Especially, if you are in a multidisciplinary team. It generates more learning curiosity. We actually keep searching. Because good research generates a new one. A sort of perpetual questioning following the continuous responses. The research permit to take rational decisions. Well done research responds to the real issue and thus solves the real problem and its root causes.
Lovely rich & highly informative infomation. I've learnt something from this. I'm a student doing PHC reseach thank you so much. South Africa
Hi i am a fresh bsc nursing new graduate . I want to work as nurse researcher. But i dont know the pathway. Should i do masters or should i go for clinical experience. What is the requirement to become nurse researcher ?
Thanks for this write up. It has opened my eyes to all the roles a research nurse should take.
I am a newly registered nurse, after graduation I jumped into clinical research field and its totally NEW things for me. I need to start from zero in order to be a good Research Nurse. After reading this site, its an opening eyes for me and I able to understand more about what am I doing now.
Hi Jennifer, I am also a new nurse like you. Right now I am working as a Psychiatric nurse but I am interesting in taking a second job as a clinical Research nurse but I am told you must have experience at least 2 years in clinical research before you can maybe get a job in research. So how did you just jump in after graduation. I just need advice on how to get into the research field. I have a BSN here in the USA. I am currently looking to apply for an MSN in clnical trials research. Would appreciate some insight about the best starting point or strategies to get in. Thanks.
It's interesting to know about a research nurse's job. Hope I'll have a chance to become one in the future.
Thank you very much , I am still a student at University of Forthare doing Bachelor and I am still struggling to find which specialty do I want…I
am falling in love with this one…
I am also interested in clinical research, could you tell what credentials are needed to participate in the clinical trials as a nurse? I recently graduated with A BSN degree.
Hi! I have developed more of an interest in being a research nurse because one can learn about new drugs, establishing of relationship and innovation.
Thank you for the information
where can I do research course
Hi,i am an oversea registered nurse, currently in the uk but yet to be registered in this country as a nurse,though,i just finished my top up bsc nursing here in the uk. Can I be a research nurse without been registered with nmc here in the uk?
Good job description. Hoping to get a position as research nurse. Have spent 11 yrs bedside oncology. ..last 7 in bone marrow transplant. ..ready for the next step


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Halloween Review #22: You're Next
You're Next was a film created by Adam Wingard and written by Simon Barret that first premiered in 2011 at the Toronto International Film Festival. After it's initial showing, the film had trouble finding distribution, various studios passing the buck and giving up rights, which delayed the films release by two full years. In 2013, Lionsgate picked it up, then proceeded to avoid releasing it after a poor test screening. Finally, they released the film in August of 2013 to a very successful box office, given it only had a $1 million budget. Hmm. A film festival horror movie that lingered in release hell for years before being distributed by Lionsgate, a bastion of horror movie quality if I ever heard of one.
Don't see how watching this could possibly be a bad idea.
Our film opens with a remarkably mismatched couple having loud, obnoxious sex in their room in a forested abode. Let's see; opening minutes of a slasher film, an activity between two people already in progress with little information, annoyed by their sex grunts enough to be unsympathetic and a secluded house in what I'm guessing in somewhere in New England?
It doesn't take a genius to tell you that these two are chowder.
Sure enough, one of them heads out to crank up the tuneskies, and his ladyfriend disappears with her open shirt to parts unknown, clearly watched from afar by some buzzing presence.
That might just be the soundtrack, but it's so audible and jarring, it might as well be a character in the movie on it's own right.The man wanders around in a towel and sees a hastily scrawled message on the outside window, which is backwards from his perspective. This guy spends so long trying to decode it, he almost completely misses his girlfriend's bloody corpse lying on the ground just past the backwards text. Then he's grabbed by a man in a fox mask and swiftly macheted.
We cut (hah) to the next afternoon, as a couple drives through same woods towards a sizable mansion. These two are Crispin, an english professor at a local college, and his girlfriend Erin. They are headed up to Crispin's parents for their 35th anniversary and on the way, they trade backstory info such as his father's recent retirement, his sizable severance package from a defence company and that one neighbour that lives nearby who recently left his wife for a college student. Gosh, I hope they're okay.
We zoom ahead to the house and the parents in question. It seems to have been a while since they were in the old place and the mother starts to clean up the house. She gets uneasy when she hears something shifting upstairs and asks her husband to investigate. Dad creeps around upstairs and holy hell, this music. Look, I appreciate an impressive, thematic soundtrack as much as the next guy and I love some solid synth work, but this is really over the top. Even when Dad is casually walking through the house and checking on that mysterious sound he heard, the soundtrack is trying to convince me that this is all TERRIFYING. It is so powerful and in your face about the tone it is trying to convey that it overpowers the visuals of the film at certain points, which do not entirely sync up. Another big issue is that the score of this film does not quite fit the rest of it. Beating, 80's style synth music can be very impressive when used effectively, but it is such a distinct genre in itself that the music has to match the tone and visuals. This movie is trying to get away with what Drive and Stranger Things did so well with their similar scores. Drive's visuals match up with what is seen on screen, specifically the neon ultracolours and beating pace of the film itself. Stranger Things on the other hand is steeped in the 80's up to it's eyeballs, from tone, to visuals, to cinematography. You're Next is trying to pay tribute to the slasher films of that decade via narrative, but it is visually closer to modern horror, with a tinge of gothic. As such, a more orchestral score would fit this movie better.
For the record, I know nothing about music. This is just my opinion.
Crispin pops up and gives his dad the ol' sneak and grab you might remember from every horror movie ever. He got to the house along with Erin and...shimmied up the drainpipe in order to surprise his dad, I suppose. They share a laugh and head downstairs, not witnessing a nearby closet sloooowly creak open. This moment might have been understated and creepy, if not for the aforementioned blaring music to accompany it.
That evening, The Mother is fixing things up in preparation for the arrival of the rest of her kids while Erin and Crispin mumble at each other upstairs about family and parenting. Mother is fidgeting about the place downstairs, clearly not noticing the very clear Halloween allusion going on just outside her window as a masked figure observes her from afar, his white animal mask reflecting against the glass. I have to say, this scene is quite well shot. It makes the action of turning on a light into a small and enjoyable jump scare.
The siblings start to trickle in with the arrival of Drake and his girlfriend Kelsey, and all he has to do is open his mouth and start ragging on Crispin for me to quickly develop a dislike for this self-absorbed ass. We're getting into the "awkward family reunion" phase of the film where a dickish gradient of family members pop up and introduce themselves before getting fed into the meat grinder. The whitest New England family of all continues to arrive and converse inside while Crispin talk to his father and faces the most terrifying thing this movie has presented us with thus far: Parental guilt!
While Drake attempts to feel up his girlfriend, the last two couples arrive. The lone sister Aimee and her artsy boyfriend Tyrique show up alongside Felix, the young burn-out and his Opinionated Alt Chick, Zii.
If she tries to talk any of the other girls into a threesome, I'm leaving.
Actually, I probably won't.
The dinner party kicks off and almost immediately, things melt down into passive-aggressive insults, aggressive-aggressive confrontation and more than one non-family member burying their face in their hands. Tyrique is an underground filmmaker, it turns out Erin used to be one of Crispin's TA and Drake continues to keep his head firmly lodged up his own ass as he is almost single handedly responsible for the erupting strife at the dinner table. I start to glaze over and check the clock as Tyrique gets up from the table and walks over to the window, inspecting something outside. He barely gets halfway through a muttered "What the hell is that?" Before receiving a crossbow bolt in his forehead.
Let's get this party started.
The family dives for cover as two more bolts shatter the windows, one imbedding itself in Drake's shoulder as he shoves his mother out of the way. Crispin tries to call the police but can't get a signal, which Felix deduces is most likely the work of a cheap phone jammer. Amazingly, Drake actually takes time away from having a crossbow bolt embedded in his lung to call out his brother on knowing something so sketchy. Trapped in the dining room, Erin gets the bright idea to use chairs as shields as they make a run for the main hall.
Now having taken cover in the main hall with an unknown number of assailants outside, Drake pops into his Vicodin stash that someone like him would obviously have, and the group weighs their options while still managing to pettily argue with each other. Okay, I'm starting to like this bickering now. It's actually used for humourous effect as opposed to manufacturing dramatic tension and helps keep the tone firmly rooted in Black Comedy alongside Horror. Aimee says that she is the fastest now that Drake is out of commission and they formulate a plan to have her sprint straight through the front door and far enough out of range to call the police. It's a decent enough plan, but it turns out that in addition to having crossbows, these guys have some sort of future sight. It is the only explanation I have for the taught piano wire mounted across the front door's threshold that would only be effective if someone were to run full tilt directly into it, and mounted at a height that would strike most people on chest but is just the right level to slash Aimee's throat. Which is exactly what happens.
hat an amazing series of coincidences necessary to provide such a creative kill. The family tries to save Aimee, but there's not much to be done and she bleeds out in seconds. The hysterical mother retreats upstairs, seemingly the only one who is really choked up about the situation while the rest of the family tries to mentally regroup. Again, Erin provides the voice of reason, reminding people to stay low and avoid windows. I'm starting to like this girl.
Mom lies down in her bed, clearly emotionally destroyed by witnessing the horrible death of her daughter. But she doesn't have to worry about in for very long as that sneaky Mr. Fox creeps out from underneath her bed with his machete at the ready.
Erin heads to the kitchen to gear up, grabbing a knife and putting pots of boiling water on the stove. She's pretty damn cavalier around such large windows for someone who knows that there is a man with a crossbow out there, but as it turns out, that isn't what she has to worry about. A man in a Kitty mask punches through one of the windows to grab her.
She then proceeds to stab him in the arm so hard the blade sinks into the windowsill, pinning him in place. It's only when she searches for another knife to finish her assault that he manages to escape.
Did I mention that Erin is Australian?
Kelsey heads up stairs to check on Mom, discovering what is left of her with a machete lodged in her face and the movie's title hastily scrawled on the wall. Damn, that's one hell of a cold open.
The father is naturally horrified and the kids try to take him back downstairs. Okay, I know that this isn't the best time, but you know that there is a murderer loose in the house, and there is a perfectly serviceable machete RIGHT THERE. For a movie with characters that have so far displayed a high level of intelligence in this situation, it's odd that nobody nutted up and tried to King Arthur that viable weapon out of Mom' skull.
Also, did one of these killers bring a paintbrush or something? Is that blood or did they bring red paint? Why would you go to such lengths to paint your scary message right next to the much more vocal image of a mutilated victim? I think that Mr. Fox took way too much time on that, considering that a lone Kelsey finds him hiding under the bed, which is enough to scare her downstairs and out the front door. Drake tries to pursue and yanks out the bolt in his shoulder, immediately fainting.
Kelsey sprints into the woods, finding the neighbours house to be full of some very unhelpful corpses. A man in a Lamb mask shows up in another reflection shot which these people are really milking, and takes out Kelsey with a punch and proceeds to practice his golf swing with a fire axe as the club and her head as the ball. He takes a moment to sit down, leaving the axe lodged in the body's head. Guys, it you just keep leaving your weapons jammed inside of your victims, eventually you're gonna run out of weapons.
Back at the mansion, Crispin still thinks that the "Run for safety" plan is still the best one, cutting the piano wire and promising Erin that everything is going to be okay. He flees into the night.
Bye Crispin, can't wait for you to show up in act three in an unexpected manner, as either a corpse to trip over or one of the murderers!
The dwindling gang hides Drake behind a curtain and Erin runs to grab more kitchen utensils as weapons. Bet you're starting to miss that machete now, especially when Kitty bursts through the window with Kelsey's body and winds up to take down Erin. Erin is having none of it, taking advantage of his wide stance to throw a kick at his groin. She then proceeds to take him out at the knee with a meat tenderizer, get to her feet and unhesitatingly BASH his skull to pieces. Oh hell yeah, it's gonna be THAT kind of movie.
This woman is amazing. I will be very upset when she dies.
At this point, I am wondering why these killers haven't cut the power to the place, just as they proceed to do so. Felix, like an idiot, suggests that they split up and check on their father while Erin heads downstairs on her own to flip the breakers. Even more amazingly, Erin agrees. Meanwhile, Dad has found out that the man who killed his wife is potentially still in the house and goes a snooping, finding a small nest in an unused closet, complete with sleeping bag and pee bottle. He confronts Felix and Zii, having realized that they have been under observation for days and that this is no random killing spree. The words have barely left his throat before it is opened up by Mr. Fox and his reclaimed machete. As Dad bleeds out, Felix watches him die...and Mr. Fox awkwardly sidles into frame.
Whelp, turns out Felix and Zii are in on this. I'm guessing that this is an inheritance thing. He chews out Mr. Fox for killing his father right in front of him while an unaware Erin manages to restore power. Also, I'm noticing again that she avoided picking up that hefty looking fire axe in favour of hanging on to her meat tenderizer. Why would you leave it there? And don't tell me that she's too weak to use something like that. This woman turned a man's head into a nacho platter with a cooking implement. While she's downstairs, Lamb sneaks in and finds Kitty's body, clearly choked up about his death. He hears Erin and attempts to kill her with that oh-so pesky axe until Drake gets back on his feet long enough for Erin to stab a distracted Lamb with a screwdriver. He flees and the group re congregates.
Drake, whom I now care about purely through process of elimination heads downstairs with Felix while Zii helps Erin with putting nails through boards as another layer of defense. Erin explains that she's such a bad ass because she was raised on a survivalist compound by her father, whom I will only accept was Burt Gummer from Tremors, while Zii shoots her murderous looks and contemplates beaning her to death with a 2x4 every time she turns around. Now that she has elaborated on her back story, I start to feel as though there is a ticking clock over this woman's head.
Down in the basement, Felix grows impatient enough to stab Drake to death, who is so loaded up with painkillers that it amusingly takes almost half a workroom's worth of tools lodged in his rib cage before he drops, all while his brother whines about how hard this is for him.
Erin heads upstairs to check on Dad, finding his corpse and Mr. Fox waiting for her. She bails straight out of the second floor window in a move that may not have been her best and limps off into the night, a shard of glass stuck in her thigh. As she hides among the trees, she spots a bloody screwdriver and quickly deduces that Lamb is nearby, ducking past him and running back inside. At least lock the door behind you! She hides in the same alcove they stuck Drake in as Lamb comes in through the window, landing right on the nail boards that she set up. Nice. It is notable in this movie and especially the following scene where they argue with Felix (Within range of an eavesdropping Erin) that the killers are very human. They are in this purely for the money and are all ex-soldiers. They bleed and yell in pain as much as the protagonists do, and Lamb is furious about the death of Kitty, who was his brother. If you tickle them, do they not laugh?
Felix decides that their job is almost done and turns off the cell phone jammer that he himself mentioned earlier. This allows a text that Erin sent to 911 to actually go through and her phone buzzes, alerting everyone to her position. Erin swiftly pulls the glass shard out of her leg, which I sincerely doubt you should do and tags Mr. Fox in the neck (With her bare hands, not the large shard of glass that I can add to the list of carelessly discarded weapons). She limbs outside, then doubles back into the house as the quartet of murderers all try to track her down. Lamb heads back towards the house and almost immediately receives another kitchen knife through the eye socket because seriously, those masks very clearly offer TERRIBLE visibility. Erin FINALLY grabs his fire axe and things look like they're gearing up for the climax.
Erin then decides that instead of using the axe as a weapon, she'll keep up with this Home Alone shtick and rig up a complex looking pendulum-trap designed to deliver the gift of axe face first to whomever opens the door. This fails to pan out within seconds, as Mr. Fox just comes back in through the same window that he's been using this whole time and chases Erin into the basement. She grabs a hunk of firewood and starts shattering lights, luring Mr. Fox into the darkness with a digital camera set on auto flash. This trained soldier decides to walk directly towards this obvious diversion and Erin manages to get the drop on him, knocking Fox down and caving in his head with her firewood.
She heads back upstairs, still adamant about not picking up that damn machete, and manages to disarm a crossbow-wielding Zii. They fight in the kitchen until Felix barges in and enters the messy melee. The two on one fight is very chaotic and fun, taking a turn for the ridiculous when Erin manages to come out on top, stabbing both of them through the top of the head. Zii gets a knife in her skull and Felix gets the bottom of a blender jammed into his head, which Erin then proceeds to turn on.
Erin takes a load off after all that, yanking out the knife that Zii buried in her shoulder when she gets a call on Felix's phone. It's Crispin. He wants to know if everyone is dead yet.
The mastermind of the whole operation strolls back inside, again through the window, and finds no one alive but a very bloody and VERY pissed off Erin giving him a death glare and probably already mentally sizing up his coffin. Crispin actually attempts to mansplain his way out of trouble, elaborating that yes, he and his brother Felix hired a trio of mercenaries to kill his entire family and their friends in order to collect on their fathers inheritance, but ERIN was never in any danger! Honest! She was just supposed to be a passive witness that could confirm their story. He just didn't know about that whole "Raised by Austrailian Doomsday Preppers" thing. He tries to bribe her with the payout coming their way, mentioning that ever present beast known as student loans. Erin stays quiet during all of this, but it's clear that she's just waiting for him to get into stabbing distance.
And a-stabbing she will go, quickly driving her little knife into a sufficient number of vital areas, until a gunshot to the shoulder takes her off of her feet.
Ohhh, BOOOOO! Seems as though the cops have finally arrived and completely misread the situation, Night of the Living Dead style. The lone officer wiener calls for back up and a paramedic before heading inside, and that fire axe finally pays off while a wounded Erin tries to warn him. One splatter of blood later, the credits start to roll.
Eh, no loss there. And Erin'll be fine. Ambulance is on it's way and it won't be hard to convince the cops that those two less-than-provoked killings weren't the work of one of the murderers.
I ended up really enjoying this movie. It has a deliberately slow start which switches gears seemingly halfway through the first act into the bloody fun that the rest of the movie excels at. In many ways, this film is a spiritual successor to Scream. Scream was made for people who grew up on old school slasher movies, while You're Next was made for people who grew up on Scream. It displays a remarkable understanding of horror movie tropes and how to cleverly defy them while still maintaining a tense , scary "Who's next?" atmosphere. Sure there are a few remarkable coincidences , such as that thing with the piano wire and the fact that the killers didn't booby trap any other exits, but more often the complaints you would have as an audience member are a completely different set of complaints than you would have from your average slasher films. Erin has become one of my absolute favourite horror movie protagonists, and deserves a spot right alongside Ashley J. Williams. It's not perfect, but I can highly recommend You're Next to anyone who wants a thinking man's slasher film.
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Kai Novak
If you're looking for a daily injection of nonsense, look no further.
December 2018