The sky overhead was eggshell blue and a bright sun made the snow drifts sparkle like they’d been dusted with diamonds. It was bitterly cold outside but I had the Jaguar’s heater set just so and as I swung the car around each corner, I had a big, stupid grin on my face. It was a beautiful day and I was doing my favorite thing in the world. Who could ask for anything more?

It was my first day off in months. The private military team I worked for, Stormfinch Security, only needed us for jobs a few times a month, but between the jobs there was planning and scouting and lots and lots of training. My best mate JD, a big Texan who commanded our motley crew, had us doing five mile runs before the sun was even up and skulking through the local forests doing night training long after dark. When I wasn’t training, I’d been helping Kian, the Irishman who handled all the admin and got us our missions, to turn a derelict factory into our base.

Today, though, JD and Kian were both in Washington, answering questions about what we’d been getting up to. Kian had told JD he had to wear a suit and it had been so long since he’d worn one, I’d had to help him tie his tie. “Wasn’t what I signed up for,” he’d grumbled. “Sitting in a meeting all day being grilled by pencil-necks. Why can’t you do it? You love wearing a damn suit!”

“I’m not the leader of this merry band, though, am I?” I’d told him, adjusting the knot. Something I was eternally grateful for. I’m no leader. I couldn’t take that responsibility, couldn’t make those judgment calls that decided whether someone came home alive or in a box. I’ve always been the light-hearted one, the joker. Maybe that’s why we work so well together: I’m the Robin to his Batman.

JD had looked so miserable, when he was dressed, that Kian had sighed and said he could wear his Stetson, and that had cheered him up. I shook my head, chuckling. I loved the big doofus.

I flicked the wheel and slid the car around the corner onto Main Street, letting the back end slide just a little on the ice. I love the throb of a big V8: primitive and simple, like me. I had the Jag tuned exactly the way I wanted it and it felt alive, ready…all I was doing today was cruising but I could feel it begging me to let loose, it wanted to go fast. I patted the steering wheel lovingly. Good girl. Maybe later.