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assessing whether she understood. First aid was a hands-on activity. They spent the early afternoon in each other’s personal space. His gentle example of tourniquet tying on her upper thigh prompted goosebumps and tummy twirls with every brush of his fingers against her sensitive skin. She could be in real trouble with this man. He’d be so easy to fall in love with.
    Before she knew it, it was two o’clock, and Rock let her go for the day. She scrambled down the corridor of the main building, purposely losing him. Afraid he would offer her a ride, she slipped out of OZ without saying goodbye.
    The streets were relatively empty during the trek from one end of the Emerald Zone to the other. The heavy military presence kept the streets absent of terrified civilians. It wasn’t far. The zone was small, a residential neighborhood, a strip mall and various military and governmental compounds.
    Bizarre. She was calm. Maybe because she’d had a lot of time to mentally prepare. Next month would mark a year since the organizers of the Sapphire Resistance, Jordan Ford and Kate O’Connor, visited her apartment. Thanks to the video piece about the mission, it was common knowledge Laila was going to be given Emerald status before she left for DC. Her Emerald designation gave her entry to places inaccessible to most. They recruited her for the Emerald Zone cell.
    Fast moving clouds threatened rain, so Laila wasn’t melting in the midday sun. The trip took less than an hour, but by the time she arrived at the Peacekeeper Compound, a faint headache rooted at the back of her neck and radiated outward in all directions.
    In her office upstairs, she changed into a full, flowing skirt and a camisole, checked her hair, and then spent some time just sitting, cooling off.
    She’d never been called to do anything for the Resistance, like so many other women had. No, they’d saved her, squirreled her away for the time she’d be transferred to Emerald.
    Her time had come. And she was terrified. Right now, her focus wasn’t on the mission to retrieve artifacts, but on mustering the courage she’d need to complete her assigned Resistance tasks.
    Finally, Laila took a deep breath and opened the door.
    Morgan’s office was in the same building as hers, but on a different floor. She headed toward the elevator. Since the failed attempt on his life, he was paranoid of everybody and kept himself well guarded, making him increasingly hard to get to. The building was a dead zone, and few people had access to the compound or the man. Even Morgan’s own Guard were restricted unless assigned to work there. The Gov must have deemed her non-threatening to have placed her office in the same building. If she didn’t accomplish this task, it most likely wouldn’t get done.
    The high-pitched ringing in her ears was more distinct in the utter silence of the elevator. A bell chimed, and the doors opened.
    She traveled down the corridor to General Morgan’s office, her heart beating double time against the steady rhythm of her footfalls. The stark fluorescent lighting clashed with the bright white floor, exacerbating her headache to tremendous proportions. She felt as if she was advancing on her own execution, instead of a life threatening game of cat and mouse.
    Maybe she was.
    When she’d pledged her support to Jordan all those months ago, she’d been aware she’d be chosen to complete dangerous assignments when the time was right. This was important, and meant more than mere loyalty to the cause. Laila dreamed about seeing her mom again. For that to happen, the Gov had to fall.
    Stopping in front of the two guards standing outside of his offices, she ran her sweaty hands down the front of her skirt. “I need a moment of the General’s time, if he’s available.”
    The soldier nodded and touched his earbud. “Sir, Laila Lewis is here to see you.” He listened. “Yes, sir,” he said, then to her, “I’m sorry, Miss Lewis, but I have to search