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)
When Grace had left the silent suite, Mirage had left an air of mischievousness lingering in the blackness that seeped into his chest.
Mr. Slick-Dressed Director was reading from the paper as if it were a prepared script.
“Named Mirage because of his previous life, background, and strict discipline that never seemed real. As if his self-control was ingrained and unshakable…but not.”
Grace stared down Mirage.
He focused his gaze on the tilt of his new partner’s glacial blue-grayish eyes, fascinated by the way they gleamed with calculated menace.
Grace watched him with detached curiosity, the same way he’d watch a rare tiger at the National Zoo.
“Mirage left his world without a trace, as if he was never there. He has a brilliant mind and more degrees in science and medicine than I thought one person could obtain. That’s all now coupled with lightning-quick reflexes from his enhancements.”
Now, I’m a bit more intrigued.
“To his enemies, he’ll disappear and reappear in the blink of an eye.”
The director scanned his paper and then flipped it over.
“His incomparable knife skills are probably a lingering talent from his profession as a surgeon.”
Hmm.
“He can throw knives so fast, like phantom blades, that they leave his targets confused.”
Mirage watched him, maybe for a reaction, while the director kept reading off his unique qualifications.
Grace didn’t know how his face looked, but his partner frowned as though he didn’t like it.
He and Mirage stared at each other.
Two men paired together because of the rare ways they could kill.
“I’ll leave you gentlemen to get acquainted. You got months of training ahead.”
The director glanced back and forth between them as if he were a matchmaker, then left the room.
The fuck? Acquainted?
This wasn’t a first date at a coffee shop where they’d discuss the latest book they’d read, their favorite hobbies, or if they’d watched both seasons of House of Dragons.
What did the director want them to say to each other?
Good to meet ya. I look forward to killing with you.
Mirage
Mirage waited until the heel clicks of the Gucci shoes faded down the hall before he turned back to Grace’s steely gaze.
Eyes that reflected emptiness within.
Grace stood still, too still, not even blinking, creating an air of intrigue around him.
So silent but still commanding.
Mirage pulled out one of the executive conference chairs around the long table.
“You wanna sit and talk for a while?”
Grace didn’t budge.
For whatever reason, Mirage wanted Grace to be as impressed with him as he was with Grace. But the entire time the director had been reading off Mirage’s skills, Grace had looked the opposite of awed.
Mirage shoved the chair back in place.
Grace’s piercing glare shook him.
“Umm, where are you from?” he asked, feeling foolish.
He still got no answer. He did get a couple of blinks of those long lashes and a raised dark brow.
Really, motherfucker?
Mirage didn’t take the bait or show any feelings.
“They said you were in the Marines. Where were you stationed?”
Mirage waited a few seconds before he narrowed his eyes and elaborated further, trying hard to break the ice.
“You were a sharpshooter, right? I think the suit said you were one of the best to come out of the Sniper Academy.”
Mirage shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels.
“That’s pretty damn impressive. You must’ve seen quite a bit of action. I was a combat medic. Maybe we’ve been on some of the same battlefields.”
After Grace ignored that question as well, Mirage closed the distance between them.
“Don’t you think communication will be important for us to succeed?” Mirage had to crane his neck to hold eye contact. “So you better start fuckin’ talkin’ because I. Do. Not. Fail. At anything. Ever. And I’m not about to start because you wanna be a dick.”
Mirage’s jaw ticced.
“Why aren’t you answering me?”
There was zero hesitation before Grace responded dryly, “Because you ask inane questions.”
Mirage had to remind himself that Grace’s words were an insult and to not get lost in hearing his coarse voice, which sounded like the creaking of a rusty gate.
“Did you just daringly call me stupid?”
“No. I inadvertently called your questions stupid.”
Mirage balled his fists to keep from lashing out. He was damn near tempted to reach for the blade concealed in his sleeve and cut this asshole’s throat.
But he couldn’t. He had to be as robotic and unfazed as Grace.
“Fine,” he gritted in a fake stoic tone. “Then you ask me a question if you believe it’ll be more relevant.”
Grace licked his full lips.
Damn, even his alluring mouth moved with sensual grace.
Mirage fought not to lower his eyes and fixate on them.
Grace edged closer until their chest were inches apart.
“What were you doing in the restricted lab in the middle of the night?”
Oh shit.
Grace
Mirage was quite passionate and responsive for an assassin who’d had his emotions biologically engineered.
Grace had never experienced such liberation and freedom in all his thirty-nine years.