Conceal (Omega Sector #3) - Janie Crouch Page 0,1

her smaller stature, the litheness of her muscles evident. Her long blond hair was pulled tightly back in a ponytail, so as not to impede her actions.

The power behind her kicks and punches was impressive. Had these dummies been live people, each would’ve fallen to the ground, gasping for air. She showed them, and herself, no mercy. Rapid-fire strikes. Over and over, at a punishing speed and rhythm. Sweat dripped and flew with each of her assaults. You’d never be able to tell she’d been out of the field for the past eighteen months.

Evan watched from the shadows of the hallway, where she wouldn’t be able to see him. As a trained operative, he recognized and appreciated Juliet’s talent in close-quarter fighting like this, although admittedly, fighting dummy targets was completely different than fighting a real opponent.

She attacked the dummies as if she were warding off a demon army from hell. Evan’s arms hung at his sides and his shoulders slumped. Fighting demons was probably an apt description for her actions.

He wished he could fight them for her. Or at least with her, but Juliet had no interest in being anywhere near him. Not that he could blame her. A partner was supposed to have your back, to protect you, even in dire circumstances. Evan had failed her in the worst possible way. And Juliet had paid a horrible price for his failure.

He turned and walked the other way, leaving her to her battle. Entering the room would just cause her to tense up and rapidly vacate, anyway. But not before fear and distrust suffused her features when the door first opened. It wasn’t just him she distrusted, Evan knew, but he hated the look, anyway.

Plus, he’d be seeing it soon enough, later today in the conference room, when he mentioned Bob Sinclair.

Evan headed up the stairs to the indoor track. It seemed as if he would be trying to outrun his own demons today rather than fighting them. But no matter how fast he ran, he knew they’d still be there when he finished.

* * *

JULIET SWUNG HER LEG around in a powerful round-house kick, hitting the target one last time. She took satisfaction in how hard the dummy fell to the ground before its weighted bottom slowly brought it back to a vertical position.

Yeah, she could take down a target dummy like a champ. Too bad that didn’t really do anybody much good. In a fight with a real person these days, she was damn near useless.

Of course, Juliet wasn’t an active agent anymore, so it wasn’t as if she was going to use her hand-to-hand fighting skills anytime soon. But it would be nice to know she’d have them if she needed them, rather than freezing up or cowering in a corner if a real person came at her.

Juliet backhanded the dummy again for good measure.

She grabbed a towel and mopped up her sweat from the past hour of pounding everything in sight. It was now just before 5:00 a.m., and there’d be other people around soon, if not already. Dedicated Omega workers—agents and otherwise—would come in to get a good workout before going upstairs to their jobs.

Juliet would like to think that was what she was doing, too. That she was here at Omega HQ sometimes eighteen or twenty hours a day because of her dedication to an important job and stellar organization. That she worked long hours because she wanted to do her part in keeping her country safe from criminals and terrorists.

Not because of the fear that seemed to pour over her like some sort of suffocating ooze every time she left this place.

It was so much easier to stay here at Omega than to go home alone to her house. Juliet felt safe here, even when she was by herself. There was no chance someone was going to throw a sack over her head and drag her out of a sound sleep in the middle of the night. Of course, there was very little chance that would happen at her home, but Juliet couldn’t quite seem to convince her mind of that as she lay awake at night, terrified, remembering. So she stayed here at Omega as much as possible.

It had been eighteen months since her attack. Things should be getting better, not worse. But that wasn’t the case.

She glanced down at her phone, which had begun vibrating in her hand as she walked toward the locker room. Her stomach rolled when she