I’m whispered about within the walls of the CIA. The Specter. Everyone’s heard of me, but nobody knows who I am. I work the extremely classified and high-profile assignments that nobody else could pull off. That’s what I’ve been trained for since I was ten. Since the day my adoptive father, David Briggs, took me in, he’s trained me to be who I am, and I’ve become incomparable. How hasn’t anyone figured out who I am, you ask? I work alone. Every assignment that crosses my desk is handed to me by the director himself and I do the job without any help, working from the shadows. That all changes when the largest ever shipment of fentanyl laced heroin is set to cross the U.S border from Mexico in under two weeks. If the shipment makes it across the border, containing 40 tons of heroin, it could potentially kill a million civilians. I can’t handle this job alone. Not with the tight time-frame. Which is why I’ve been given a team to help me. Elijah, Gael, Beau and Cameron. We’re tasked with stealing the files that contain the supply routes, dates, and times for the shipment. Piece of cake? Yes, they are. I try to maintain a professional relationship with my new team, but they’re determined to make it personal. Gael and Elijah with their sweet words and easy-going attitudes. Cameron with his flirty grin and his in-your-face charisma. Beau with his all seeing eyes and secretly gentle soul. They’re determined to break down my barriers, and I’m inclined to let them.

One week. That's all it took for my life to turn on its head. A week ago I was single, and my father was alive and well. Now, I have four boyfriends and my father, who I just buried, may actually still be alive. Every inch of my being is screaming at me to go find him. To see for myself that he's alive and then discover who made it look like he was dead in the first place. But I've got a choice to make. Gael found a shipment of women is crossing the border in less than forty-eight hours. Do I help them intercept the shipment and save these women? Or do I go find my dad and confirm, with my own eyes, he's not the guy currently lounging in a coffin, six feet under? But maybe it's a blessing in disguise. Maybe I need a little more time to figure out how I'll explain my very new, very active dating life. I'll have to have a good speech to stave off the aneurysm he's sure to have when I saunter up with not one, not two, but four boyfriends. One fucking week...