Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)
Ten minutes in and he grimaced as he shifted toward the door and flexed the hand on his weapon. “Where are you taking me?’
Emotionless eyes met his for maybe half a second before returning to the road. No answer forthcoming.
They drove down into a parking garage and Lance’s eyes struggled to stay open. Yeah, he hadn’t healed up enough. The vehicle stopped and the door opposite him opened and he lifted his hand in time to see another man sliding a body that looked eerily similar to himself into the seat.
His side opened and he nearly fell. “What the fuck is happening?”
A woman stood there, tall and built like she should be a starter in the NFL. She was stunning, however, and she canted her head to the left. “Walking on your own, handsome, or do I have to put hands on you?”
Lance skimmed his gaze over her, taking in the orange-red hair drawn back in a ponytail. Metal studs lined her face and she cocked an eyebrow. “Looks like I’m carrying you.”
Damn if she didn’t simply scoop him out of the seat and walk the ten paces to where another SUV sat idling, back door open. She put him on the seat and followed him in, drawing the door shut after her.
“Move.”
As she spoke, she reached down to a bag at her feet and pulled out a syringe. Lance wasn’t mobile enough to deflect the poke and as his eyes grew heavy, well, heavier, he glanced to the front and found the man he would have sworn had been driving the Pilot.
“What the fuck is going on?”
“My girl put in a rescue for you. Settle back, man. We got this. You’re safe.”
Head lolling back, he struggled valiantly to stay awake. “Jasmine?”
“The beauty will be along in due time.” A dry chuckle. “Don’ worry your pretty head over her.”
He could no longer fight the results of the beating combined with whatever he’d been given with the syringe. Eyes closing, he swallowed.
“She’s mine. You…you don’t get her.”
That same low laugh, oddly comforting and disturbing at the same time. “You can’t hold onto smoke, it always slips through your fingers.”
Didn’t he know it. “Mine.”
He hoped to God he’d wake up again and she would be there.
* * * *
Jasmine sat at a picnic table and took photos with her phone of two men meeting and doing their best to look as if they were doing anything but. She didn’t know either of them personally but knew enough to comprehend that one worked for the government and the other had his toes dipped well into the underground world.
They shouldn’t be meeting.
Especially not in such a manner.
Children ran around, mothers sat and gossiped with friends, nannies too, watching over their charges. Dogs barked, some kids cried and more laughed. On the surface, it was the picture of idealistic life.
Not anything I would have assumed ever having for myself. At least not until she’d gotten to know her twin sister, Caroline. Her heart twisted at the thought of not being able to see her nephew again, or her sister. No, things weren’t great between them, but it was hard to get close to your only sibling when you couldn’t risk talking to her or she would be in danger.
She shook her head. Thoughts for another time.
When the meeting broke up for those two men, she waited another twenty minutes and continued acting as if she were taking selfies still before she got up and blended into the crowd moving along the street by the park.
In Chinatown, she walked slowly, looking for the storefront she knew would have the person she sought. Not that she wanted to see him, like ever, but it was for Lance, and she’d swiftly discovered for that man, she was willing to walk back into the lion’s den.
There.
Lian’s Red House of Lion Noodles. That was it, what she wanted. Some things never changed.
Tugging her dusky rose shirt down over her jeans, she walked to the door, took a deep breath and drew the door open. The fragrant scents of Asian cuisine swarmed her and her belly rumbled immediately. Even as she skimmed her gaze over the patrons, she was creating a list of definite “to gets” before she left.
Later.
Right now, something else was more important. She moved through the seating until she reached the table and the person she sought. Jasmine didn’t wait for an invitation, merely slid her ass over the opposite chair so she could face him.
Blue eyes snapped up to her and filled with anger and loathing. Robert Gibson.
“You.” One word, which dripped with so much disdain she could have paved a highway from coast to coast with it.
Expression blank, she slipped over into the seat next to him, maintaining a line of sight to the exits in the building.