The Cuban

The Cuban
 
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 CW Browning
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 About The Cuban
 Four years ago, Viper was killed. But she never had any intention of remaining dead...
 When Alina Maschik walked away from her former life, she was hoping to live in relative peace. She should have known better. As top energy executives across the world begin dropping dead, Viper comes out of retirement to do what she does best: the impossible. But nothing is ever as easy as it seems, especially when the target is her husband.
 Michael O’Reilly has a new life. After a tragic loss, he walked away from the civilian existence he knew and stepped into the shadows. But spying for his country brings its own challenges, and when his hunt for an international arms dealer takes him into the path of a dead assassin, things get complicated. 
 Racing across war-torn Ukraine, two operatives must forget the past and focus on finding the one man who can help locate a deadly foe before it’s too late...
 ...and Viper ends up dead for good. 
 Table of Contents
 The Cuban
 Prologue
 Chapter One
 Chapter Two
 Chapter Three
 Chapter Four
 Chapter Five
 Chapter Six
 Chapter Seven
 Chapter Eight
 Chapter Nine
 Chapter Ten
 Chapter Eleven
 Chapter Twelve
 Chapter Thirteen
 Chapter Fourteen
 Chapter Fifteen
 Chapter Sixteen
 Chapter Seventeen
 Chapter Eighteen
 Chapter Nineteen
 Chapter Twenty
 Chapter Twenty-One
 Chapter Twenty-Two
 Chapter Twenty-Three
 Chapter Twenty-Four
 Chapter Twenty-Five
 Chapter Twenty-Six
 Chapter Twenty-Seven
 Chapter Twenty-Eight
 Chapter Twenty-Nine
 Chapter Thirty
 Chapter Thirty-One
 Epilogue
 
 About the Author
 Note from Author:
 
 “The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?”
 ~ Edgar Allan Poe (The Premature Burial)
 Prologue
 
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 The man fell, landing heavily on the stone floor with a grunt. He was unable to lift his arms to catch himself, but even if he could, he doubted that he had enough strength to do much more than try to cushion the fall. As the gray stones rushed up at him, he managed to lift his head to prevent his skull from cracking forcefully into the floor. That was the extent of what his battered body was capable of, however. He lay on his side, blood seeping out of his mouth, and willed the throbbing in his entire being to stop. One eye was swollen closed while the other only allowed the merest sliver of vision. Through it, he concentrated on the wall a few feet away. He found a particularly long gouge in the cement, made by a former occupant driven Chapter One
 
 
 Philadelphia
 Michael O’Reilly stepped through the door to his condo and tossed his keys onto a table just inside. A handful of mail joined them as he pushed the door closed with his foot. A feeling of relief went through him, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders as he entered his alarm code into the keypad on the wall. 
 The flight from Heathrow to Philadelphia had been long—longer than normal. At least that was how it seemed. When he’d finally landed and made it through customs, he was looking forward to getting home and crashing in his own bed for the first time in six weeks. It wasn’t meant to be, however. Traffic turned a ten minute drive into a fifty-five minute nightmare, a situation caused by the fact that the Eagles were playing Dallas at the Linc that night.