The Exchange Part 1 Read Online Free Page B

for me. I don't like to get into what it was like before that, but I lived a sheltered
     life. All that was missing was the padded room and plastic bubble. As a result, women
     and I didn't get acquainted until after I was eighteen and on my first tour.
    Relationships? Not possible. I'm a soldier, as I said. Well, now I'm what people consider
     a special agent—God damn that 007 bullshit—but I see myself as a soldier. Always will.
    When you live the life I live, you don't stop to think about the things that didn’t
     happened. What's missing. You don't care, either. Eat, sleep, sex. Keep myself in
     top shape. The endless medical visits to make sure I'm at one-thousand percent. And
     the mission statistics, planning, analyzing.
    And most important of all: survive.
    That's my life and I'm freaking ecstatic with it. Supremely comfortable, in fact.
     I never wanted anything more.
    Yet here I am, unwilling to move, drinking in the sight of a young sleeping girl.
    She fell asleep two hours ago. Did it in the middle of reading, too. One moment she'd
     ben awake, immersed in that book. In the blink of an eye, her eyes snapped shut, her
     head fell limp to the side, and she was out cold.
    I caught her book before it fell out of her lap and made sure to place her bookmark
     where she'd left off. The book is now next to her on the seat.
    It’s the oddest thing I’ve ever seen. I’ve never witnessed anyone falling asleep like
     that. Is she narcoleptic? No, her file would’ve mentioned that. Maybe she’s developed
     some weird sleep disorder after everything she’s been through.
    File would’ve mentioned that, too. It has to be her advanced technology.
    The enigma that this girl is has me hooked. I’m sure of it. It has nothing to do with
     those thighs. Or the fact that her profile while sleeping is even sexier than her
     legs.
    My head falls against the window with a loud bang. Deimos, whatever this is, figure it the fuck out and get over it. You’re fucking up
     the mission.
    Someone knocks against the window, right where my head is. “Plane leaves in twenty-five.
     You planning on coming out of there any time before takeoff?”
    Fuck you, Gage. Talk about proving my point.
    Another thing I’ve realized about the girl is that she sleeps through any noise. There’s
     no way I could’ve stayed asleep considering how loud Gage had been.
    I reach behind me. A simple flick of my fingers opens the door and I fling it open.
     The muffled “ oomph” that comes from Gage makes me want to smile. I step out of the car. Eight pissy expressions
     are aimed in my direction.
    “The girl is sleeping,” I tell them, meeting each and every stare.
    You need a psychological evaluation. The words aren’t said out loud, but they’re written in every line on Gage’s face.
     “And? You want to delay the flight until she wakes up?”
    A.K.A: What is wrong with you?
    Let me pause here and state a fact that should be obvious by now.
    I didn’t get the code name “Terror” by accident. Yes, when it comes to killing, I
     am a surgical-steel, six-blade slicing machine. I am. I don’t regret it. It’s kill
     or be killed in my world. Only regular civilians get the luxury of choosing otherwise.
    And it’s because guys like me do the dirty work to protect them.
    Don’t get me wrong. I’m no motherfucking superhero. Would never want to be equated
     to one. If anyone comes near me with a cape, I’m shoving it up their asses.
    Killing isn’t the only thing I excel at, though. Strategizing and being obsessed with
     finishing each mission on time—while making sure everyone on the mission sticks to
     every step of the plan? Guilty as charged. That’s me. The men came up with another
     nickname they think I don’t know about: The Tyrant.
    Is it original? Hell no. Is it accurate? Damn right it is.
    I’m proud of that fact. I’ve worked hard to deserve both nicknames. And I’ve cracked
     that whip enough times to give them all some