DROP
ZONE
A MINA KANE NOVEL
BOOK SIX
AMANDA CARLSON
In 2105, getting things to tumble from the sky is possible.
After ex-marshal Webb’s torture at the hands of a Syndicate fixer, it’s time to figure out who was involved and hold them accountable. After a deep confession from Webb, Mina realizes the risk the fixer poses, and authorization comes for her and her team to track him down. The laser fires hot when a Syndicate team searches the fixer’s unit and the colonel-in-arms’ DNA is identified.
Everyone involved with the case must stay well under the radar or it’ll place Mina and the entire department in jeopardy. That means completing an unprecedented mission in hopes of bringing down a notorious crime ring for good. With the help of her partner, Lee Adams, and the extremely talented hacker Harmony Biggins, they hatch a plan that qualifies as the most ambitious of Mina’s career.
The race is on, and with the help of the colonel-in-arms, they just might pull it off.
Table of Contents
DROP ZONE
About the Book
Copyright
Other books by Amanda Carlson
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Sneak Peek of Book 7
Sneak Peek Chapter 1
Sign up for my Book Alert
About the Author
Many Thanks
DROP ZONE
A Mina Kane Novel: Book Six
Copyright © 2021 Amanda Carlson, Inc.
ISBN-13: 978-1-944431-30-3
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from the author.
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Other Books by Amanda Carlson
Find All of Amanda’s books on her website
Jessica McClain Series
Urban Fantasy
Blooded
Full Blooded
Hot Blooded
Cold Blooded
Red Blooded
Pure Blooded
Blue Blooded
Sin City Collectors
Paranormal Romance
Aces Wild
Ante Up
All In
Phoebe Meadows
Contemporary Fantasy
Struck
Freed
Exiled
Holly Danger
Futuristic Dystopian
Danger’s Halo
Danger’s Vice
Danger’s Race
Danger’s Cure
Danger’s Hunt
Danger’s Fate
Mina Kane
Futuristic Thriller
Total Enhancement
Perfect Plant
Cupid’s Bow
Vid Star
Code Teal
Drop Zone
Chapter 1
“He didn’t answer.” Mina hefted up a tall, weirdly shaped vase. Round on top, spindly at the bottom. “I already told you. I called him twice this morning, and he didn’t pick up. What is this? Does it hold flowers? Or ashes of the dead?”
It was eight thirty in the morning, and she and Kaylee were running late. It was Mina’s fault. Getting out of bed had taken some serious effort. She’d had only around four hours of restless repositioning. There’d been no sleep involved.
Or if there had been, it’d been unrecognizable.
Now that she was up, she had a lot on her mind.
First and foremost, Vincent Kramer had brought the house down with his lips last night, contributing to the majority of her sleeplessness—to the point where Mina had been experiencing some kind of ghost-lip fixation. She would absolutely swear, to anyone who asked, that Vince’s lips were currently touching hers.
It might be becoming a problem.
Second on her mind was Norman Webb. She was acutely aware that the ex-marshal, who was in a government medi-unit healing from injuries he’d sustained at the hands of a Syndicate fixer, should rank first in her brain. But the phantom-kissing thing was extremely distracting.
She was, of course, anxious to find out how Norm was doing. The main agenda, after they took her partner, Lee Adams, a celebratory new-residence gift, was to meet with Norm and figure out a way to deal with this fixer, a man by the name of Wilbert Waterbury, who’d been released from a box a month prior.
They needed to solve this quickly and efficiently with the least amount of blowback. It wasn’t going to be easy. The Syndicate had a long reach and an even longer memory.
There was also the pesky faux audit to worry about. Mina hoped Duncan McAllister, the director of the CIU, had found out who’d ordered it. She wanted to check that off her list, too.
She yawned, halfheartedly covering her mouth with the back of her hand. She was going to have to take a dose of Jump if she wanted to stay fully functioning today.
“Here, give it to me.” Kaylee took the vase, turning it upside down to inspect the bottom. They were standing in an aisle of Print It. “I wouldn’t put anybody’s ashes in this thing. Looks like it would topple over if you blew your nose near it.” She set it down. It wobbled, threatening to fall before evening out, which seemed like a miracle, considering. “And if you yawn like a cobra gulping down a fat, juicy rat one more time, an air breather is going to escort you over to the platform section so you can lie down.” Kaylee settled her hands on her hips. “What’s with you, anyway? I’ve been waiting to hear what happened last night with your new smoking-hot hunk of burning love since we walked into this store. If you don’t spill your ever-lovin’ guts soon, I’m going to dig the stinky secrets out of your body with…this.”
She snatched up something that looked like a kitchen utensil people had used years ago to cook real food. Either that, or it was a pet excrement scooper.
When Mina didn’t respond right away, Kaylee swatted the air with the thing, taking a few steps forward. “I want details, and I want them now.” She swished the thing downward. “The only tidbit you’ve offered up is he hasn’t answered a couple of calls this morning.” She batted it upward. “So what? The man’s tired. You kept him up all night.” Swish, swish to the side. “He’s sleeping in like a normal person who doesn’t work full time. Or even part time.” She gave up on the pooper spatula and set it back on the shelf. “Does he even work at all? I mean, what does he do all day? No wonder he’s still asleep.”
Mina shrugged, trying to hold back another yawn. It came out in a weird half growl. There was no good way to stifle a yawn. “I don’t know. He does media interviews, but there can’t be that many in a single day. Ambrose is keeping track of hi
m with a couple of guards. Other than that, I have no idea.”
Ambrose Bernard was leader of the French Protectorate and subsequently Vince’s boss. He wasn’t very happy with Vince at the moment. Vince had gone rogue, and Ambrose was making him pay.
Kaylee puckered her lips, making kissy sounds. “You haven’t asked because you’re too busy sticking your face in his.” She stopped, brows arching in concern. “You did stick your face in his face, didn’t you?”
Mina meandered down the aisle without answering.
Her friend caught up with her in a second flat. “In case you’ve forgotten, we don’t keep stuff like this from each other.” She guided Mina around to face her. “We’re best friends. I goss on everything. You know it all. From Tanya loves Tangling Tonsils to Porcupine Jones, the man who lives to creep me out. Who I absolutely never slept with.” Her eyes made a slow roll toward the ceiling. “Okay, so we might’ve occupied the same bed together…once. Oh, never mind.” She visibly shivered, rubbing her arms through her emerald-green flow shirt. “You know almost every single detail of my love life. You can’t ice me out now.”
Mina picked up a decent-looking lamp, successfully suppressing a grin. Much easier than a yawn. “How about this? Looks kind of Lee-like. It’s brown and sturdy. These knobs on the sides make it look owlish.”
“Are you kidding me?” Kaylee huffed. “We’re not buying that. We’re not lamp people. And why aren’t you answering me? Did he break up with you? If he did, he’s going to get a solid kick in the—”
“He didn’t break up with me.” Mina chuckled. “Stop being so dramatic. We’re not even a real thing yet.” Were they? Maybe they were. Mina sighed. “I just…I’m still trying to process everything. It’s all jumbled up in my brain, and it makes it hard to figure out what I’m feeling. We kissed last night. It was incredible. So much so, that it feels like he’s kissing me constantly. Vince’s ghost lips won’t leave me alone. And no, he didn’t stay over. We’re taking this slow.” That decision had been debatable as she’d tossed and turned in her platform all alone. “I’m glad we are”—if she kept saying it, it would be true—“because I’m having trouble reconciling having feelings, or even allowing myself to have feelings, for a guy who was once my best friend. When he’s in front of me, I see grown-up Vince. But when he leaves, all these memories of us as kids flood back, and I get”—she shrugged—“a little weirded out.”
“Leave it to you to get weirded out kissing a guy with dreamy ghost lips when ten million people, and I’m being conservative with that number, would enter into cohabitorship with him, no questions asked.”
Mina laughed. “Yeah, but most people didn’t watch him grow up. We spent a lot of time together. During those years, I never felt a single romantic feeling toward him. Not a one. It was probably because we were together constantly.” Mina mulled it over. “But at the same time, I can’t wait to see him again and latch on to those plump, delicious, silky lips. Damn, he’s a good kisser. Phenomenal. Possibly the best kisses I’ve ever had.”
There was no possibly about it. It’d been the most romantic, highly charged interaction of Mina’s life to date.
The ghost sensation tingled again.
She refrained from running her fingers over her lips like she wanted to and settled on rubbing them together. Aggressively.
Kaylee did a little jig. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. More of that please.” She pivoted back and forth in place, hips swaying, beckoning Mina with both hands. “Dee-tails. I need some of those sweet, sweet dee-tails. Kissing, stroking, lip-locking, nails-scraping, head-bobbing, dee-licious dee-tails. Feel free to get down and dirty. I’m in need of some sweet, sweet dee-liiight.” She stopped. “Seriously, this dry spell sucks. I need to find someone with magical ghost lips. No fair.”
“Okay. Okay.” Mina giggled. “But you have to promise to stop dancing. This is not the time to break into song. Why do you have so much energy, anyway? You left the ceremony at the same time we did. You should be yawning right along with me.”
“Like a good girl who knows what she’s doing, I downed a hyperbiotic this morning and pretty much ate my breakfast in my medi-pod. It does the body good. And don’t you dare lead me off-topic. What else you got? And anytime is a great time for a song.” She started snapping. “Oh, there once was a man named Viiincent. He kissed like he had a biiig fat—”
Mina grabbed Kaylee’s arm and dragged her forward, laughing. “No more. We have to get serious about this. My mentorship is spiraling down the grinder as we speak. Right now, Lee is wandering around his new high-rise wondering what to do and second-guessing if he’ll be able to stay there or not. We’re bringing over some printed treats and whatever we find in the next aisle.”
She guided them around the corner.
The aisles at Print It were enormous—two meters wide and stacked higher than a giant could reach. Whatever was found on a shelf could be printed in any color, many in several variations. You could purchase a particular item, but the merchandise was really there to spark an idea.
Mina scanned the row. “Well, this is unfortunate. We can’t really give him a gel-cush seat insert.” She gestured to one side. “Or a child’s plush toy.” Gesturing to the other. “Why aren’t they better organized? It should be groupings of similar items.”
Kaylee glanced around. “I think we’re in the yellow section.”
“Yellow? Why would color matter?”
Neither of them shopped here often.
“I have no idea, but do you see anything that isn’t the color of a drab sunflower? Or, more accurately, the color of mustard diluted with burnt carbon?”
“Hm. You’re right. That’s a lot of yellow. It’s also the worst color. These actually look like rejects to me.” Mina picked up a large urn that could be used for a houseplant or possibly something to keep prewash clothing in? Hard to know. “Who would buy this?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s one of those decorative floor stand thingies. You put branches in it.”
“Why would you put branches in it?”
Kaylee snorted. “Honestly, I’ve never met anyone with less of a fashion sense than you. When you move residences, you go with whatever decor is already inside. But some people—most humans—love to personalize their space. They like to add their own planetary twist on things. And for what it’s worth, I think branches are pretty. Something natural in our sterile world.” She took the urn from Mina. “But this one is hateful.” She stuck it back on the shelf. “That yellow color not only hurts the eyes, it offends the soul.”
“I have plenty of fashion sense,” Mina argued as Kaylee led her out of the land of yellow. “Just because I don’t care about dotting my residence with tchotchkes doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy decorating. I just haven’t had the time or energy to spend on it yet.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
Mina snorted. “Let’s get Lee some plushy dry wraps. Those are fun and functional.” They walked down the much larger main aisle, glancing at the digital signage, trying to make sense of it. “Where’s the fiber section?”
“Over there, I think,” Kaylee said, gesturing. “And while we search for the most boring gift available in this entire, massive, sensory-overloading store, keep spilling. We’re not done here.”
“We might be done here. I told you about the amazing kissing. That was it.”
“Your storytelling is as weak as a tot slurping fruit sauce out of a retractable straw. I like the ghost-lip stuff. Give me more of that.”
“My storytelling is excellent. And there just isn’t much to tell. He kissed me. I liked it. We stopped. I kind of wished he’d stayed over. He said he’d meet us at Lee’s this morning, made it seem like he was into it, didn’t answer my calls, now we’re here.”
“Proof to my point. Effective storytelling involves highly descriptive adjectives and leave-you-on-the-edg
e-of-your-seat cliffhangers. You just gave me bullet points. That was excrement, not excitement.”
Mina yawned. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m sorry. I’m just not all here this morning.”
Kaylee stopped abruptly, turning to Mina. “Look, I get it. You’re hung up on him not answering this morning. You went to bed blissed out, ready to jump into this new relationship, then Kramer gives you another setback by blocking you, which you file away as yet another possible lie he fed you. It makes sense, given what’s happened recently between the two of you.” She began to walk again. Mina followed. “But I can promise you that’s not what’s happening. He didn’t answer because he’s either in a kiss-bliss coma, or something came up. Something important.”
“How can you possibly know that? You have no proof.”
He could’ve lied again. Mina wasn’t ruling that out.
“I know because every single person in that room last night saw how you guys looked at each other. There’s no impersonating that much electric current. Even when you were apart, you sought each other out, giving each other silly grins and head bobs, holding hands under the table when you thought nobody was looking.”
Mina made a face. “You were watching us?”
“Not like a creeper. Jeez.” Kaylee laughed. “But it was hard to miss. It was also endearing and sweet and perfect and smushy. There was so much current, all the male and female agents who might’ve sought Vince out to—I don’t know, flex their assets and give him a flyby—didn’t. They didn’t because they saw he was taken. That his heart was not up for grabs. So believe me when I say the man is not avoiding you.” She turned down another aisle. “And if you weren’t so lovesick and paranoid, you’d see it, too.”
“I’m not lovesick,” Mina protested. “Or paranoid. I’m…cautious. I’m practical. I’m a realist.”
“Then get real on this. Kramer is into you. He’s fallen down a deep crater hole, and you’re the only one in there with him. So relax. He’ll call you. You’ll see him again, and it will be fabulous.” She waggled a finger. “And if you don’t give me excellent details dipped in hot buttery fudge dipped in scintillating sprinkles the size of baby elephants next time, this relationship is over, and I’m moving on.” She marched up to a shelf and grabbed a stack of dry wraps in a pretty aqua color. “We’re getting these. Boring, but useful. Come on, let’s go.”
Drop Zone Page 1