Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Marilyn slid out of the booth, smiling at him as she shouldered her purse. “No, his plane arrives tonight.”
Justin’s laughter followed her out of the coffee shop. He’d never stood a fucking chance.
Chapter 2
Justin fought the urge to adjust his tie as he stepped inside The Club. The eclectic restaurant stood near the center of downtown Cincinnati, near Fountain Square. And while it had been open for less than a year, it was already one of the most popular restaurants within the city. Justin itched to know how the hell Marilyn had managed to get reservations on a Friday night without calling four months in advance. There was no way the woman had hacked into their scheduling system. He didn’t get the impression that it was her forte.
As he waited for his turn at the maître d’s podium, he glanced around the elegant restaurant. The walls were a buttery cream with unique pieces of modern art that were supposedly created by local artists. Each painting had a warm yet haunting quality to them; certainly eye-catching, even in the subdued lighting. Soft conversation and the clink of silverware on china just barely rose above the classical music that filled the air.
“Good evening, sir. Can I help you?” the young woman behind the stand greeted, bringing his attention to her.
He dropped Marilyn’s name and was instantly whisked away to a half-hidden table. He wasn’t surprised to find Marilyn and the other man already there. He was only five minutes late. Justin had briefly contemplated trying to arrive ahead of them but let it go. If Marilyn wanted to meet secretly with her little friend, then she had ample opportunity to do it whether he was early or late. No, Justin was content to let them wait on him.
Before Marilyn noticed him, Justin let his eyes skim over her companion, barely holding back his groan. This man was not what he’d been expecting when Marilyn described him as sneaky and lethal. Those people had an air about them that he understood, could use on a job like this one.
This man sitting at the small round table looked like…a lawyer…or maybe an accountant. Everything about the stiff way he held himself screamed anal-retentive, plodding, and pedantic. He would demand to be involved in every inch of the planning when Justin needed him out of his way. Or better yet, in the field, acquiring information that couldn’t be revealed through hacking.
Swallowing his irritation, Justin tried to consider what was in front of him. The stranger had a long, lean build, accentuated by his dark suit and almost midnight-black hair cut short on the sides, but the top appeared to be long and slicked back. Everything about his face was sharp angles. Hell, his cheekbones alone could be used as a weapon to cut someone open.
This was supposed to be his man on the ground? The so-called assassin looked as if he preferred to spend his life behind a desk or in a courtroom.
Marilyn looked up as he drew closer, ending his inspection. Justin smiled easily, lifting one hand in greeting, noting out of the corner of his eye that the man was now giving him a quick look-over. Justin loosened his gait and relaxed his shoulders, keeping his expression wide and open. He lightly gripped her extended hand, leaning forward to brush his cheek against hers as if they had done it a thousand times when in truth Justin had never greeted her like this. No, this was for show for anyone who happened to glance over at their table.
“There you are,” she purred as he stepped back. “Justin, this is Gabriel Prescott. Gabriel, this is Justin Mallory.”
The other man stood, his movement smooth, as if he kept all his joints well oiled, and extended his hand to Justin. His face was absolutely expressionless, determined to give nothing away, which made Justin smile even wider. Nearly black eyes held his gaze for a moment, threatening to pull Justin into deep, bottomless pools of night. They lacked the cold control that wrapped around every other inch of Gabriel Prescott. A stunning hint of something else that Justin couldn’t quite put his finger on but sent a chill down his spine. If Justin was sure of nothing else, it was that Gabriel Prescott had killed before and he’d enjoyed it.
“A pleasure, Mr. Mallory,” Gabriel greeted stiffly, giving away only a hint of a foreign accent, enough to prove that he wasn’t an American.
“Of course, Gabriel.” Justin slid into the one remaining seat, inwardly cursing Marilyn and Gabriel for leaving him with the chair that put his back to the rest of the room. Evil fuckers.
“Well, let me tell you how it’s going to go,” Marilyn immediately began, slipping into her usual no-nonsense voice. “I’m going to sit here and finish my drink while we pretend to make chitchat. Then I’m going to leave, and you boys are going to play nicely. You already have all the information that I can share.” She lifted her glass of wine to her lips and took a delicate sip, her eyes darting from Justin to Gabriel as if daring them to argue with her.