Tick Tock
by Jane Harvey-Berrick
Series: EOD #1
Genre: Military Romantic Suspense
by Jane Harvey-Berrick
Series: EOD #1
Genre: Military Romantic Suspense
Release Date: November 1st, 2018
Blurb:
Forget SEALS, Marines, Fighter Pilots - I have the most dangerous job in the world. And I love it.
James Spears is part of an elite group who lives and breathes danger. Where others run from it, he walks towards it, calm, focussed ice-cold. James is a top EOD operative.
Explosive…
Ordnance…
Disposal…
You’d call him a bomb disposal expert. Or crazy. A guy with a death wish. He’s heard it all before and he doesn’t give a shit. He’s the best.
They say he doesn’t have blood in his veins, he has ice. They say he has no nerves.
All that’s about to be tested.
Amira is recruited by the CIA to infiltrate a terrorist cell living in rural Pennsylvania. She’s the perfect plant, no one would ever suspect her. Because her brother was killed when a bomb was dropped on the Syrian hospital where he was working as a doctor. And now hate burns deeply inside her. She’s perfect.
That’s what they tell James when he’s told to train her to be the best damn bomb-maker there is. In a secret camp, deep in the woods, James teaches her everything he knows about building bombs. He’s not a praying man, but now he’s really hoping that he’s doing the right thing.
Codename: Hansel and Gretel
James Spears is part of an elite group who lives and breathes danger. Where others run from it, he walks towards it, calm, focussed ice-cold. James is a top EOD operative.
Explosive…
Ordnance…
Disposal…
You’d call him a bomb disposal expert. Or crazy. A guy with a death wish. He’s heard it all before and he doesn’t give a shit. He’s the best.
They say he doesn’t have blood in his veins, he has ice. They say he has no nerves.
All that’s about to be tested.
Amira is recruited by the CIA to infiltrate a terrorist cell living in rural Pennsylvania. She’s the perfect plant, no one would ever suspect her. Because her brother was killed when a bomb was dropped on the Syrian hospital where he was working as a doctor. And now hate burns deeply inside her. She’s perfect.
That’s what they tell James when he’s told to train her to be the best damn bomb-maker there is. In a secret camp, deep in the woods, James teaches her everything he knows about building bombs. He’s not a praying man, but now he’s really hoping that he’s doing the right thing.
Codename: Hansel and Gretel
Buy now:
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2OpBJBc
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2nnqn55
Amazon World: http://relinks.me/B07GB16S3P
Amazon US: https://amzn.to/2OpBJBc
Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2nnqn55
Amazon World: http://relinks.me/B07GB16S3P
Free with Kindle Unlimited
Prologue:
© 2018 JANE HARVEY-BERRICK
All rights reserved.
Prologue - James
I’ve never been afraid of dying. It’s living that scares the hell out of me.
But in the bomb suit, I am utterly alone.
There is no today, no yesterday, no tomorrow.
Just here, right now.
There is no God, no Devil, no good, no evil.
Just me. And the sound of my breathing, loud and rhythmic.
Just me. And this bomb.
A bomb is a device that is designed to kill, maim or harass.
I’m not afraid. I don’t have time to be afraid.
The sun burns down, the light is a white haze, sweat runs into my eyes. The longer I’m out here, kneeling in the dust, the more vulnerable the team watching my back.
I can’t be quick. I have to be certain.
Because if I’m wrong, I die.
I am an EOD operator.
Explosives
Ordnance
Disposal.
Bomb disposal.
I am the Tick Tock man.
Excerpt:
James
Where do I go from here?
The question had been running through my head for days—and now it was my last few hours with Amira.
We were at JFK, two among thousands in the vast, white terminal.
Amira and her family were flying back to San Diego within the hour, and I had a late flight to Heathrow.
Nothing had been resolved between us, and every time I’d tried to start the what next question, she’d shut me down.
A wiser man would have taken the hint, but life could be short, ending suddenly, brutally—and I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted.
And now I was down to my last thirty minutes to make use of my limited charms to persuade her to agree with me.
Her parents were clearly uncomfortable with my presence—I definitely hadn’t charmed them. They were grateful, but they didn’t want me around their daughter. They definitely wouldn’t want me for a son-in-law. But I had a plan…
I’d managed to persuade Amira to go for a coffee with me, leaving her family at their flight gate, and we were sitting in a Starbucks concession. Amira was drinking some frothy iced coffee crap, and I had something that was supposed to be English tea (but wasn’t).
As I reached out for my cup, wondering how to start, she caught my hand, exploring the web of scar tissue that crisscrossed my palm and wrist, interrupting the normal lines.
“So, I guess this is goodbye,” she said quietly, laying my hand back on the table.
“Only for now.”
She shook her head sadly.
“I don’t think so, and neither do you. Not really. You said it yourself—you live 6,000 miles away. This has to be goodbye.”
I studied my scarred hand, hoping I’d find the words to convince her that we had a chance.
“Well, I read the other day that they’ve got this crazy new invention called air travel. And email—it’s like writing a letter but without having to buy a stamp—wow, magic! You should try it. And I heard telephones work across the Atlantic, as well, but that could just be a rumour.”
She didn’t crack a smile and she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“James, you and I don’t exist in the real world—we can’t. It’s a lovely dream, but it’s still just a dream.” She shook her head. “I was so naïve—Operation Hansel and Gretel—it seemed like being in a movie at first, or a fairy tale. I’m so stupid.”
Her words threw ice water over my hopes, but I wasn’t going to accept that as her last word. The game starts after you score. I’d had those words tattooed on my back for a reason—and it meant that I needed to up my game.
I wasn’t what you’d call a spiritual person, but I didn’t believe that we’d been through all this shit for nothing. I was sure of that.
“It doesn’t have to be a dream, Amira. We can make this work: you and me—us.”
She glanced up, startled, and shifted on the hard chair.
Amira and her family were flying back to San Diego within the hour, and I had a late flight to Heathrow.
Nothing had been resolved between us, and every time I’d tried to start the what next question, she’d shut me down.
A wiser man would have taken the hint, but life could be short, ending suddenly, brutally—and I knew what I wanted. I knew who I wanted.
And now I was down to my last thirty minutes to make use of my limited charms to persuade her to agree with me.
Her parents were clearly uncomfortable with my presence—I definitely hadn’t charmed them. They were grateful, but they didn’t want me around their daughter. They definitely wouldn’t want me for a son-in-law. But I had a plan…
I’d managed to persuade Amira to go for a coffee with me, leaving her family at their flight gate, and we were sitting in a Starbucks concession. Amira was drinking some frothy iced coffee crap, and I had something that was supposed to be English tea (but wasn’t).
As I reached out for my cup, wondering how to start, she caught my hand, exploring the web of scar tissue that crisscrossed my palm and wrist, interrupting the normal lines.
“So, I guess this is goodbye,” she said quietly, laying my hand back on the table.
“Only for now.”
She shook her head sadly.
“I don’t think so, and neither do you. Not really. You said it yourself—you live 6,000 miles away. This has to be goodbye.”
I studied my scarred hand, hoping I’d find the words to convince her that we had a chance.
“Well, I read the other day that they’ve got this crazy new invention called air travel. And email—it’s like writing a letter but without having to buy a stamp—wow, magic! You should try it. And I heard telephones work across the Atlantic, as well, but that could just be a rumour.”
She didn’t crack a smile and she wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“James, you and I don’t exist in the real world—we can’t. It’s a lovely dream, but it’s still just a dream.” She shook her head. “I was so naïve—Operation Hansel and Gretel—it seemed like being in a movie at first, or a fairy tale. I’m so stupid.”
Her words threw ice water over my hopes, but I wasn’t going to accept that as her last word. The game starts after you score. I’d had those words tattooed on my back for a reason—and it meant that I needed to up my game.
I wasn’t what you’d call a spiritual person, but I didn’t believe that we’d been through all this shit for nothing. I was sure of that.
“It doesn’t have to be a dream, Amira. We can make this work: you and me—us.”
She glanced up, startled, and shifted on the hard chair.
© 2018 JANE HARVEY-BERRICK
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved.
About the author:
Writing is my passion and my obsession. I write every day and I love it. My head is full of stories and characters. I'll never keep up with all my ideas! I live in a small village by the ocean and walk my little dog, Pip, every day. It’s on those beachside walks that I have all my best ideas. Writing has become a way of life – and one that I love to share.
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