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Live-fire training.
She didn’t need any blasted live-fire training. Especially not during a freak snowstorm that was inundating Range 37 at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. Betsy’s personal thermostat was currently set to Congo jungle, not three-days-before-Christmas blizzard.
Okay, the pretty white flakes fluttering down on the rifle range didn’t count as a blizzard—though she’d grown up in Arkansas and it was more than she was used to—but it was cold enough that they were sticking to everything, including her. And her breath showed in puffs. She focused on breathing only through her nose to cut down on the clouds that might give away her position to the instructors.
The fact that she was out of Delta Force and the Army in three more days didn’t matter to them. She’d done her decade in t
