Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59849 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“I got this,” Matt says and hands the bartender a credit card. I smile and thank him, noticing the name on the credit card that he just handed the bartender. It doesn’t say Matt or even Matthew Baker. It’s a different name entirely, and it’s familiar for some reason but I can’t place it.
Lorenzo Moretti.
Chapter
Five
MASON
The first thing I notice is how her eyes match her dress Emerald green and almost glittering under the lights. She walks right past us, eyes on the bar. But she diverts to a table off to the side, and I have to mentally remind myself that I’m on a mission and I can’t be distracted.
Diego and I are at the Palmer House Hotel in Chicago, trying to get some intel on Enzo. I’m in the lobby and he’s outside, hanging around the rear entrance. My gut tells me it won’t take long before we at least make a visual contact, and my gut is rarely ever wrong.
But right now…right now my head is tipping to the side as I watch the lady in the green dress walk by. She’s pretty, and she has a nice ass as well. I take a sip of my drink and do a quick scan of the room. Other than Green Dress, nothing interesting is going on. My phone dings, and I glance down, seeing if it’s a text from Diego.
It’s not, and I swipe over, turning off notifications because that’ll be the first of many texts in my sibling group chat. The chance of missing something important is slim to none; the chat mostly consists of my sister, Rory, sending baby pictures and my sister in laws Josie and Chloe loving the images.
My eyes flit to her again some time later, and I see her straighten up. Following her gaze, I watch Enzo sit down at the bar. I glance back at Green Dress just in time to see her take a picture then get out a voice recorder. What the hell? She records something and then puts it in her purse, purposely placing it so she can record a conversation.
Then she goes to the bar and sits just a stool away from him.
Do they know each other?
Now it’s my turn for photos, but I won’t be as obvious as using my phone.
“He’s here, at the bar,” I saw quietly, pressing on the earpiece I have in.
“You got eyes?” Diego’s voice comes through.
“Yeah. Clear view. Over.”
Sitting back, I watch the exchange, continuing to get video and photo evidence. The mission today was just to simply gather some info so we can put together a profile. Unless Enzo does something egregious, I can’t act. Whatever I do has to be able to stand up in court, and I’m not even supposed to be here right now. Though one could always go to a bar, anywhere in the city, and just happen to arrest someone who was doing something illegal. I highly doubt Enzo is going to lop off someone’s head in the middle of the hotel lobby, though I can dream.
The woman in the green dress scoots over, talking to him now. I’m good at reading people. Not only is it part of the job but it comes naturally. But Green Dress…she’s hard to read. Her ankles are tightly crossed and she has one hand on her drink the whole time—smart, of course. But she’s also leaning in, giving off all the tell-tale signs of body language that she’s interested. She’s pretending to take sips of her wine, not actually drinking any of it as she puts it to her lips. Her purse with the digital recorder is in her lap, and her body is angled so it’s front and center between her and Enzo.
Again, what the hell is she doing?
They don’t know each other, I can tell by this meeting. Is she trying to get intel on him, too? But why? If she was with another organization, I should have been informed. There’s no way that was why we were told to back off…right? I swear to fucking god if those asshole from Homeland Security got the Moretti job and we didn’t…I shake my head. Gotta stay focused.
Diego checks in a couple more times as I continue monitoring the odd exchange at the bar, pretending to read the book I brought so I don’t look like a creep just sitting here. If anything, I blend in with the asshole businessmen trying to find a quick hookup while away for work—and away from their wives.
I keep watching what looks like a weird game of cat and mouse. Every once in a while, Enzo’s head is turned just the right way where I can read his lips. He tries to get her to go somewhere else and it seems as if she turns him down. They exchange numbers and he pays for their drinks. Her body tenses slightly when he hands his credit card to the bartender, and I wonder what happened. Did he say something when his face was turned?