CALLEY (RIBUS 7 Book 3)

Copyright
©
2016

CALLEY by Shae Mills

All rights reserved.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

To my sons.

Because of you,

all things are possible.

To my Dad.

I know you would be proud.

To my Mom.

You are my biggest fan.

My boys, you are my life, my motivation, my inspiration, and my happiness. Without you there would be nothing.

My family, who has asked for twenty-five years, “When are you going to publish?” Thanks for sticking with me. My boys came first. Now it’s my time.

Greg, my computer genius and formatter, I would flounder without all your expertise. Thank you.

Stephanie Fysh, my editor, thank you for accepting my work and for all your wonderful and informative direction.

Aman, my dear friend, thank you once again for all that you do for me. Your keen eye and all your encouragement is invaluable. You're the best!

Fiona Jayde, who did such a wonderful job of my cover art, again! Thank you! You captured the essence of my book perfectly.

All my author friends, thank you for your support, your guidance, and your encouragement. You have all meant so much to me.

And now, my readers, thank you once again, and welcome to
CALLEY
, where the adventure continues. Enjoy!

For information about the author, visit:
www.facebook.com/shae.mills.54

The fighters hovered ominously over the ravaged ground. A towering mountain unwittingly served as their protector, but only momentarily.

“Now!” shouted their Commander.

Full thrust applied, the thirty ebony birds of prey were jettisoned up into the night air. Pressure waves boomed in unison, threatening the structure and integrity of the mountain itself.

Over the ridge they descended toward their snarling, ensnared prey, talons and teeth bared. Suddenly, the sky electrified, bolts of fire hurled up at the winged predators, the air peppered with deadly intent.

Marri steadied herself, her target nearly realized. She hit a button and the fighter shuddered, expelling its incendiary load in a rain of terror directed toward the desolate landscape. More anti-aircraft projectiles belched from the besieged area in response, the now wounded prey oozing out the last of its heated venom.

Marri smiled. “Bull’s-eye,” she whispered. But her guarded optimism waned and her ice eyes widened at what her scanners betrayed. She held her breath as she watched her right wingman succumb to the bloody inferno. Quickly, she searched for the pilot’s readouts. Her body was so riddled with adrenalin she could hardly control her muscle tremors. Pulling back on the controls, she forced her Primary fighter into a vertical climb, leaving the rest of the contingency behind to finish their run.

“What the hell are you doing?” shouted her Second-in-Command.

Marri ignored the verbal outburst that assaulted her ears. Her most prized wingman was alive. He was simply the best, and she would risk all to retrieve him. Pulling out of her climb, she scanned the devastation below while searching for his elusive coordinates.