An off-books CIA operative is returning to work after recovering from gunshot wounds suffered in a shootout in a wealthy Dallas suburb.  To compound the violence in Dallas, the agent’s partner was killed in the shootout.  The wounds caused by the death of his partner, who was also his fiancé, healed far more slowly than his physical wounds.   Being off-books, Rick can operate both inside and outside of the US; a necessity in his shadow world.

The Deputy Director has hesitated assigning this current problem to another agent until Rick was fully healed.  Rick Jefferies is thirty-four years old, six foot, three inches tall, 225 muscular pounds, with light brown hair and piercing gray eyes.  Those penetrating gray eyes could either seek out duplicity or smile just as easily.  The Deputy Director is a politician and envies Rick who is a man of action, ill concerned about politics.  One man would never become a Deputy Director; the other would never be shot in a gun battle.

A group of talented electronic thieves were stealing millions from American banks by apparently breaching their firewalls and transferring the funds to nations that were less than friendly with the United States. So far, millions had been stolen and over twenty people killed while trying to apprehend these modern day train robbers, only now the trains are electronic, not steam.  The FBI, NSA and Treasury had accomplished absolutely nothing so far, but the Deputy Director has abiding faith in Rick.

The latest murder had occurred in Las Vegas.  Like a wolf on a blood trail, Rick would begin his quest amid the glimmering neon canyons of Las Vegas.   On his last assignment he had encountered an incredibly beautiful young woman with a checkered past.  Tioga McDaniels had been praying for Rick’s return since that first chance meeting.  She had abandoned her previous life in anticipation of him someday returning.  She was a stunningly beautiful young woman with skin the color of hot chocolate and whipped cream, stirred to perfection.  She was five feet, five inches tall and had a shape given to her by the Gods of Beauty.  Fate lines crossed again in Las Vegas and Rick asked Tioga to accompany him as he sought out these dangerous criminals.  Because of her past life, and being raised in the hazardous warrens of North Las Vegas, Tioga was as fearless as she was beautiful.

These killers are so proficient that Rick requires two additional agents as backups, two shooters.  Rick and the backup agents are faced with an assassin who kills young and old, rich and poor.  The criminals are leaving dead bodies in their wake, as well as banks coffers that are pilfered electronically.

Rick and Tioga track the killers through three major cities and finally on to Cabo San Lucas. Rather than be captured, the criminals make a run for it onboard their yacht; headed for the Sea of Cortez.  A vicious battle takes place in the Sea of Cortez onboard a magnificent Mondomarine yacht and a Super Leggera open-water speedboat.

Good triumphs over evil, but the victory is Pyrrhic

THERE WERE FIVE PEOPLE in the bedroom; one male and four beautiful women.  The male and his three stunning companions terrified the fourth; she lived in the condominium they had just invaded and was the mistress of a successful Houston bank president.  A natural blond and incredibly well built, she was thirty-five years old and although beautiful in her own right, was not in the class of the other three: an African American, a Mexican and an Asian, two of whom were armed. The condo was located in River Oaks, an upscale suburb of Houston; close enough for easy access by the banker, but located far enough away from his wife so as not to arouse her suspicions.   

The mistress wore a shear negligee and had been caught unaware by the four intruders. The banker had been hesitating in meeting the demands of the male, who appeared exceptionally dangerous and wanted to leave him an inducement to correct the situation.  He nodded slowly to his beautiful Mexican companion, who was armed with a 9mm semi-automatic with a silencer.  Without hesitation and displaying no emotion whatsoever she shot the mistress in the chest. The 124 grain bullet penetrated clear to the heart, spelling instant demise as she crumpled to the carpet; her limp body contorted like a rag doll that has been dropped carelessly.

The male said, “Make it appear to be a robbery.  Wipe everything clean. Don’t leave any fingerprints.”