Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Meridian sheathed his stiletto sword and raised his Magnums. Grace had both arms extended, holding Berettas in his large hands as Ex drew his .45s. Backs together, they began rotating in a tight circle.
Mirage was camouflaged in the middle, rotating and twisting his body so he could throw his blades over Grace’s broad shoulders, past Ex’s narrow waist, and between Meridian’s long legs.
The booth made them push their skills to the limit as if they were pissed off that nothing they hurled at them made it within fifty feet of harming either a Black or Brown.
The four men obliterated each program, every simulation harder than the last.
After three weeks of twice-a-day training, they’d choreographed a deadly dance.
By the end of the month, they’d formulated a new fighting stance, three of them back-to-back with Mirage hidden in the middle.
No one would know where the phantom blades were coming from.
It was a unique advantage to have on their enemies.
The tech members operating the holograph training program and their handlers were on their feet, staring down at them as if they were the rarest, scariest animals in the world.
What was more satisfying was the director watching from the door, appearing ten times more afraid than he’d been at the debriefing.
None of them looked away.
Meridian could only imagine how the director felt with four physically and mentally enhanced assassins with concealed faces glaring in his direction.
Grace
“Mission begins in seventy-two hours,” Mirage said to the Blacks after they stepped off the elevator.
They’d found some corruption in the director. He’d been receiving funds from other countries to orchestrate illegal missions, espionage, aiding and abetting international terrorists, and the list went on.
But one thing at a time.
First the Greens, then the director.
He and Grace walked down the hall, stopping in front of their doors.
“You going to check out your new kitchen?” Mirage smiled at him.
Grace nodded.
He was anxious to see what Giorgio had done. He’d had Grace’s basic instruction on his must-haves, and he’d left it up to the designer to add whatever embellishments he thought Grace would like.
“Sounds like you want some alone time…”
What?
“I’ll see you in the morning. I’ll be in the cafeteria for break—”
The fuck you will.
Grace pushed Mirage against the wall, much like he’d done before, and used his chest to pin him down.
Mirage gazed up at him and then released a long-suffering sigh.
“I don’t want to monopolize all your time, Grace. You’re allowed a night to yourself.”
Grace gripped the back of Mirage’s neck, glaring into his pretty gray eyes.
Did I gesture in any way that I wanted to be alone? I just fuckin’ told you I think I love you, Mirage. You dare leave my side?
Mirage bit his bottom lip and shook his head.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Grace yanked Mirage off the wall and pulled him into his chest. He slammed his mouth over Mirage’s and kissed him with all the fire he had burning inside.
Mirage moaned in surrender and opened for the chastisement.
It was a passionate yet tumultuous kiss. A fusion of their new love and raw frustration of the misunderstanding.
The kiss burned down and then diffused into simmering embers that Grace licked until they cooled.
Now you know to never suggest that shit again.
Mirage brushed their cheeks together. “Forgive me.”
Grace took Mirage’s hand and pulled him into his condo.
Mirage
Grace was clearly over-the-moon happy with his shiny new kitchen. Mirage could tell by the meal he cooked and how he kept adding dishes.
By the time Grace was done, the dining table was crowded with enough food to be considered a Thanksgiving feast.
Mirage didn’t think Grace’s kitchen could be fancier than before, but it was.
The stove had three more burners than the last one and a grill in the middle. Which was perhaps what compelled Grace to make six side dishes at one time and grill some steaks.
Mirage helped him clean the kitchen so he didn’t feel useless since Grace slapped his hand when he picked up a spoon and tried to stir the potatoes.
After eating far too much food, they were on the balcony, stretched out on the patio couches like manatees, with one hand down the fronts of their pants and one on their stomachs.
“I don’t think I can move. My stomach feels like it’s gonna explode.”
Grace harrumphed, then drank a sip of his bourbon.
Mirage stared up at the distant diamonds scattered across the cobalt sky, then closed his eyes after a cool breeze brushed over his skin.
He sighed and settled into the cushions until he was comfortable, ready to accept the next three days of reprieve.
He must’ve dozed off because when he opened his eyes, Grace was naked and climbing on top of him.
“Oh, fuck yeah,” he groaned.
Mirage had never woken with a smile on his face before.
Grace tossed one of Mirage’s legs over the back of the couch and settled between his thighs, diving face-first for his balls.