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)
Justin put his mug down and frowned. “New anti-depressant?”
“Cancer treatment. Pill form. It’s rumored to be more effective than chemo and without most of the side effects.”
His breath froze in his lungs as his mind zipped through quick calculations and obvious implications for this pharmaceutical powerhouse. The smallest of tells and Marilyn still caught it, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yes. Worth billions for Iaso if it works as they claim,” she continued.
“Makes you wonder about poor Dr. Weiss,” Justin murmured when he could draw air into his lungs again. Millions of people suffered from cancer every year, and for too many, the drugs available simply didn’t work. Marilyn’s estimate of billions felt like an understatement.
“Particularly since he’s not the first.” She paused when her cell phone vibrated at the far end of the table. Glaring at it, she flipped it over to look at the display. With a huff, she pushed a folded piece of paper over to Justin while she answered the phone.
“Hi, darling,” she said, her voice lifting an octave and becoming significantly softer, kinder, while at the same time her eyes were narrowed in warning at him.
Justin swallowed a snicker as he picked up the paper and quickly read the story of a woman who had died in a car crash just a week earlier. It had occurred late at night as she was leaving work. The accident had been ruled a hit and run, with no leads on the killer.
“No, that’s no problem at all,” she cooed. “I’ve got to take Tyler to violin lessons in a few hours, and then Isabelle has soccer practice at seven. We’ll just catch up later tonight.”
A couple of minutes later she ended the call, turning her full attention to Justin, who was smiling at her. “Fucking his secretary?” he mocked.
Marilyn rolled her eyes, putting her phone aside. “So clichéd. It’s his marketing director.” The gentle, saccharine tone was completely gone, as if it had never existed, and the cold woman Justin was accustomed to dealing with settled into place once again.
“Does it bother you?”
“That he’s cheating on me?” She sat back in the booth and pushed her empty teacup and saucer aside. “God, no. I’m more pissed at the notion that he honestly thinks I don’t know about it.”
“Does he know you’ve cheated on him?”
“First, I’ve never cheated on him.” Justin grinned at her, and Marilyn glared. “What you’re assuming from my past was only business. It doesn’t count. And second, the man knows what I want him to know about who I am and what I do.”
He chuckled before picking up his coffee and draining the last of it. “Sounds like the foundation for a successful marriage.”
“No, it’s not,” she countered lightly, giving a shrug. “But it is a marriage where I am in control. It works for what we both need.”
Justin stared at the prim woman sitting across from him. There was nothing he could read from her eyes or expression. Few people he’d met in his life could create such an emotional blank, and Marilyn was one of the best. A person knew only what she wanted them to know, and in most circumstances, it was a lie.
He knew she was married with two kids and lived in Lakeside Park, Kentucky, in a very nice home.
But that was all window dressing. While she’d never admitted to it, Justin was positive she was ex-CIA, like himself, or maybe MI6.
“Would you like me to wipe out her 401(k)? Destroy her credit rating? Get her car repossessed?” he offered for the hell of it.
A soft laugh bubbled from her lips, and she smiled genuinely at him. “No, I have other plans for her. The time isn’t right yet. And I will be handling it personally.”
Justin shrugged. “Well, if you don’t need my skills for that…”
“There is this little thing that needs attention.” As she spoke, she slid another piece of paper across the table. This time, all the text was written in Russian. Justin’s spoken Russian was passingly fair, but he could fluently read the language. His eyes darted over the job description, his mind soaking in the details, analyzing and breaking down what would be needed. The contract was for proof that something was wrong with the drug as well as to uncover who was hiding it. The client also wanted to know who’d ordered the hits on the two dead scientists.
But this wouldn’t work for him.
“No,” he said, the single word sharp and irritated. “It’s a two-man job.”
This was just his kind of operation. It looked as if the two scientists had been killed as part of a cover-up, and if this pharmaceutical company was up to some dirty things, then he’d love nothing more than to bring them down.
But he didn’t work with a partner.