BOOK SAMPLE FROM HIJRAH A NOVEL BY MISTI DEBONNO

Misti Debenno Hijra MASTER Website

Lethal agent Missy Rothstein has mastered the art of seduction, outsmarting all in her path – but when Jackson Gellar enters her life her dedication is tested to the limit. Sent to take out an MI6 operative she comes face to face with lethally handsome Gellar! The explosive mission sees them counteracting terrorist plots whilst battling for survival.

 

An underground network of specially trained child soldiers is poised to attack the very nations they were born unto. Amongst the deadly youth is believed to be Missy's nephew, Daniel!

Missy abandons all rules in her quest to get him out alive, can she succeed and save the world from imminent attack?

 

Misti Debonno’s Hijrah is a modern fast paced thriller written in the style of Lee Child’s Jack Reacher books.

 

“Sex, spies & guns add up to fun in my book and for once the woman gets to be on top in more ways than one.”

 

Kensington Gore

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CHAPTER ONE

WALES, PRESENT DAY

 

Men had died out here, so many of them soldiers on combat practice.

It was the only thought in her mind as she burst through icy waters gasping for breath. Dismissing freezing temperatures, she leapt onto the riverbank, hugging herself to ward off the threat of hypothermia. The Land Rover was a short distance away, hidden from view of hikers behind a shadowy incline. Missy Rothstein closed the distance in no time, aware that her naked body was turning blue. She yanked on her clothes, almost tearing out her fingernails in a desperate bid for warmth.

 

The tremors slowly subsided. She saw her recovery as a kind of super-human power. A form of exhilaration engulfed her, she smiled, the blood still pounding in her head. Her erratic actions had drawn the attention of her co-workers on occasion, and an assessment referral had resulted in a diagnosis of psychotic behaviour, resulting in a desire to self-harm. Yet she’d never inflicted wounds to her body. Instead, she simply chose to dalliance with death. And far from discrediting her abilities as a Spy, MI5 saw it as an intriguing double edge to her character!

It had been easier to blame her loveless marriage, and the career that was never short of threat, but in truth it had been her childhood that had stripped her of emotion and grown an almost demonic mindset. The trauma had been buried so well that all recollection was deleted from her brain. Yet still a series of messages raged through her mind, instigating blinding headaches. She'd been a small child when the abuse had begun, and though the memories that remained were only dark shadows that visited her dreams, they took hold and threatened to silence her breath…

 

Trained by the military in the depths of the Brecon mountains, she’d been forced to swim naked in icy waters with invisible frozen daggers spearing her entire being. The gruelling training, and lonely days and nights, left her wondering if she'd make it through to the military or survive at all. And yet, she chose to put herself through life-threatening tests of endurance every time she felt her grip on reality sliding away.

 

The memory was the smallest of scars she carried. The evil she’d seen and bestowed in the name of protecting her country taunted her daily. And yet when in action, she took a sadistic pleasure in the brutality inflicted on her targets. Inevitably, it led to a need for escape to the mountains. It was here she would finally reclaim a semblance of normality.

 

Taking aim, she'd fired the Sig 9mm handgun, its valiant bullet slicing through the air. The cans she'd set out, obliterated. A spray, from the water weighing them down unleashed, coating the jagged rock they’d been set upon. She went through the motions. Pressing the release button, the magazine slid down out of the handle. Her fingers pulled back the slider to ensure it was empty. Kneeling on the hard ground she whipped a rag from her backpack. She placed the gun upon it and set about giving it a thorough clean with the bore brush and solvent.

 

Her husband had destroyed her confidence as a woman. Fuelled by alcohol or drugs, he’d launch physical and sexual attacks on her. She’d learned not to fight back. He’d overheard the ramblings of her dreams, and knew enough to destroy her career, her family, and in short, her entire life. Instead she counted down the minutes until he left for work. Her job had once been her escape, but not anymore. She was dead inside. She tossed the thought away and tilted her head, watching the sun rise above threatening clouds, and wished she could do the same…

 

That had been a few weeks ago; she’d finally ended her twisted marriage. And throwing caution to the wind she'd ventured on to an internet chat room. A half empty bottle of vino helping to lace her banter.

 

Social media, previously forbidden in her line of work, had become invaluable in drawing out targets. Only she found herself straying off course. The same profile randomly appeared on her timeline.

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STEALTH WRITER: Hey shepherd lady, surely you knew Offa's Dyke was built to keep the English pure and untainted by the Welsh.

 

LADY ENIGMA: Quite possibly!  Did you know that the Welsh allowed it to be built, happy in the knowledge that the Englishmen could no longer cross the border whenever they sought a real woman?

 

Going about her daily duties she felt bewildered by their growing friendship. Every day she logged on to her laptop desperate for his next message.

A smile had etched its way across her face. And it had gained the speculation of her superiors. Internet relationships were not accepted; MI5 agents abided by the rules or else. "It's bullshit! You all know I'm married to the job. Yes, I chat with him, but there's something there, I'm telling you. I'll eat my hat if he's not a spy too! And then we need to ask ourselves, why is he appearing on my timeline?" Missy convinced them it was nothing more than a sniff of a rat.

 

She’d been the perfect candidate for her job. Recruited from Swansea University, her degree in criminal psychology was left unfinished. Professor Courtney was captivated by her. That first day at university she'd dismounted her bicycle coming to his aid. The full glare of his Bentley’s headlamps having frozen a hare to the spot, its eyes glazed and incredulous. Braking, he'd careered into the pitiful animal injuring but not killing it.

Missy marched into the road. Without muttering a word she'd bent down, placed her hands upon its terrified body, and with a deft stretch of its neck, a resonating pop emanated confirming the animal was dead.

 

"It's kinder." she'd told him without an ounce of remorse. Turning, she threw its corpse into the hedgerow before continuing her journey. His pleasure at finding her one of his students was evident. Her tiny physique and fragile looks belied her physical and emotional strength.

In the gymnasium, she challenged and outlasted the others, male or female. In lectures, she revealed an inane knack for getting inside a criminal mind. She was callous in her intent at tearing their structure to pieces She was perfect.

 

Seven years on, Missy was a crucial part of MI5′s covert investigations. Her pale blonde hair, sapphire eyes, and feminine form served as bait for terrorists. That absolute aura of purity and her belief in their cause led them to fall for her spin-off. Having gained their devotion, she followed on with a barrage of banter, sometimes via the Internet, sometimes in person. She riled them, teased them, frustrating them until she had them begging for mercy. Then she would strike! Some talked, the others she'd torture.

An expert in mind control, she rendered her victims as pathetic wrecks. She held no feelings for them. Life had made her that way. Yet she felt a thrill of adrenaline course through her body each time she broke them. Her enjoyment evident when reporting her achievements to HQ.

She was a woman in a man's world, yet she was so energized by it that others feared her. She'd long since gained the nickname ‘Ice Maiden.’ One glance at her laptop sent the adrenaline pumping.

 

STEALTH WRITER: ‘Hi Princess, finished your hoovering yet?’

 

LADY ENIGMA; ‘Hello back Englishman. Just finished my mountain run and was hoping I could rely on your feminine side to give lessons in domesticity! LOL.’

 

STEALTH WRITER; ‘How far did you go? Whereabouts is this mountain of yours, sounds interesting?’

 

Her stomach churned. Too many questions, it would be easy to let her location slip, to invite him to join her even. The thought voiced itself in her mind and she dismissed it…

 

LADY ENIGMA: ‘North Wales (she lied). And it is interesting. You know me, if something intrigues me... I follow it!’ LOL.’

 

STEALTH WRITER: ‘I take it from that I intrigue you? x ‘

 

His words fired something deep inside her. Who was he? What was he? In his bio, he'd mentioned that he was ex-MI6 turned successful author. It had been this that had cultivated her interest in the beginning.  Military intelligence personnel would never oust themselves as such, past or present. Without a doubt, he was online with the same intent as her, preying on targets.

 

Yet now he invaded her every thought; even her sleep. She began to wonder if he was using her own mind control skills against her. Waves of anxiety and exhilaration coursed through her body and again she dismissed them. The thrill of danger in testing her emotional boundaries was a new one, and she welcomed the challenge!

She was playing a dangerous game. Part of being an MI5 agent was being under investigation yourself. There was no room for mistakes or leaking of information. Agents disappeared for less. Missy had stoked the fire with her banter to the Englishman. Her every word was witnessed, yet still, she remained hooked.

 

Her traitorous body was laced with an incredulous flame of desire. It dawned on her that she'd rather die now having experienced real emotions than live by the rules of her superiors and retain her frigid mind. She'd never put her career at risk, but this was one man who stirred her senses and she was fully prepared to live life dangerously, albeit for a short while.

 

She snapped out of her reverie. Boyo, her black Labrador, raised his head eyes alert, excitement evident in his sudden stance and wagging tail.

Guarding the front door, his reluctance to bark and returned stare indicated someone was outside. Missy ripped her gun from its ankle holster and cocked it ready for fire. She motioned to Boyo to stand down. A glance through the spy hole revealed nothing. She slid back the latch, nervous adrenalin pumping through her veins. With her gun locked in position before her, she opened the door.

 

Living miles from the nearest neighbour meant a passer-by was out of the question. Her car alarm pierced the silence, she took flight running barefoot across the damp grass, her eyes searching. And then she was running, glancing about her. With no-one to watch her back she remained vigilant, eyes battling to adjust to the darkness of the night. A mass of shining stars and a full moon cast enough light for her to scan the area, the downfall being that she too was visible.

The Land Rover door was wide open. With hands still clasping the rubber grip of her 9mm, she thrust forward. Missy searched inside for her intended target. The blast of a motorcycle engine jolted her and she tore around in time to catch its retreating red light.

"Damn!" She released the cock replacing her gun to its strap. Reaching inside she found a brown envelope. Opening it she pulled out the four-lined computer printout; she was needed in London. More importantly, she acknowledged, her hasty reactions had almost resulted in the killing of one of her own.

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