Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111143 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Jude waited until the young man had disappeared through the curtain before he shifted to the edge of his seat, his arms on the table. “Auction?”
Snow gave a single shake of his head before shoving to his feet. Grabbing the folio, he led the way back out of the room with Jude following close on his heels. He could feel the eyes of the guards on him as he moved back up the hall to the wide staircase leading to the second floor. They were running out of time. He had no doubt that someone somewhere in the Southgate House was checking names and pictures they had of existing club members. In a matter of minutes, they would be found out to be intruders and not members. Snow preferred to be the hell out of Newport before that happened.
“We just need a when and where,” Snow muttered as Jude walked up the stairs beside him. “Then we get out of here.”
The floor creaked under them and their footsteps echoed as they moved from Persian rugs to hardwood and then back again. Cries of both pleasure and pain drifted out from behind the closed doors, but Snow ignored the sounds as he walked to the one room where the door was open. The green room was exactly that, a small green room that served as a place for bands to relax before they were expected to perform.
Seated on a worn leather loveseat was a large man tapping away at a tablet in his hand. His bald head glistened with sweat in the harsh overhead light. As their footsteps echoed across the hardwood floor, the man looked up and frowned at them.
“I’m sorry but guests aren’t supposed to be back here.”
“You Marcus?” Snow asked.
“Yeah…”
“Gratton told us you had the information we needed.”
The man hesitated, his eyes darting from Snow to Jude. Before Snow could open his mouth to press Marcus further, Jude growled and stomped closer. He grabbed a chair and slammed it down in front of Marcus, who jumped at the violent motions, his eyes locked on Jude as threw himself in the chair. Loudly sighing, Jude sprawled in the chair, his legs spread wide, while glaring at Marcus.
“I just spent half my day on a fucking plane to get here, because fucking Gratton called me at the last minute and said I had to be here now,” Jude ranted in an accent Snow knew damn well wasn’t Spanish. Sounded a lot more like Greek. He narrowed his eyes, intrigued. The accent was thick and extravagant, and Jude was playing up the role of the irate, put-out spoiled socialite perfectly. “I want a fucking blowjob, a fucking shower, and a fucking meal that doesn’t taste like the damn chef keeps his head up his ass when he cooks. But I can’t have any of that until I’m done with you.”
Marcus had paled during Jude’s rant, staring at him with his mouth hanging open slightly. “You don’t sound Russian. I thought Gratton said you’d be Russian.”
“Fucking Gratton!” Jude snapped, launching to his feet to stand over Marcus like some dark avenging angel. It was all Snow could do to keep the smile off his face. Jude really was impressive. “I summer in Russia with my aunt. I was in Madrid with my sister’s family because who the fuck wants to be in Russia during the winter? But I’m from Greece. Anything else you need to know?”
“I-I-I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
Jude swore under his breath and flopped back down in his chair, glaring at Marcus. He rattled off a few sentences in Greek, ending in that accented English with, “What the hell do you need so we can do this?”
Marcus reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a white card that had a pair of long numbers on it. “The half-million deposit needs to be made to this bank account within the next forty-eight hours. The moment that the deposit is cleared, you’ll receive an email with the time and location.”
Jude took the card and yawned as he stretched his hand up and over his shoulder, waving the card at Snow. “Here. Take care of this,” he mumbled carelessly. “I want it done before I’m out of my shower.”
“Yes, sir,” Snow murmured, tucking the card away in his jacket pocket.
Jude rose from his chair, straightening his jacket. Marcus rose as well. “I’m very sorry for the confusion, sir,” Marcus continued
“I just hope the other business isn’t such a fucking headache,” Jude muttered, leading the way out of the room.
“Left,” Snow whispered the second Jude stepped into the doorway, directing him away from the main staircase. They continued wordlessly down the hall to a back staircase that would have been a servants’ path back when the building had been occupied by the Thompson family decades ago. Snow wanted to shove Jude against the wall right there on the stairs and kiss him, he was so damn impressed by the man’s performance, but he kept his hands to himself. They had to get the hell out of there before their luck ran out.