Since Shelby was already late, she might as well be prepared. She juggled her bag to a more comfortable position and opened the folder. Gifted with an eidetic memory, she skimmed the first couple of pages.
She’d drawn a bodyguard assignment for Ms. Rosalee Kane, a bestselling author from Long Beach, CA. If the author was in D.C., it explained why Shelby had been flown out in the middle of the night—probably to escort the author home soon.
She read further. Northstar would provide twenty-four/seven protection for the next week. Another agent, not yet assigned, would work the threat angle with the police.
Teamwork was standard operating procedure on all personal protection cases. After joining the firm, Shelby’s challenge was to get used to working on a team, but it became easier with each assignment. She wondered who her partner would be. With the approaching holiday, some agents were already off-duty.
“Let’s go in.” Allison tilted her head toward the conference room. “Byron’s waiting.”
“Sure.” Shelby nodded and continued to read the second paragraph. “Is this a joke?” The bio must be wrong. “What’s the point of a death threat on a seventy-seven-year old? If the bad guys wait long enough, she’ll die of old age.” The moment the words left her lips, hair on the back of her neck prickled.
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