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)
“Let’s cut the small talk.” Without being offered, she reached for the shiny black teapot with intricate cherry blossoms painted on it. Not losing his gaze, she flipped a cup and poured it.
Jasmine.
One of her favorites.
“What are you doing here?” His gaze shifted from side to side.
“Worried you’re going to be outed for talking to a dead agent?”
Cold blue eyes narrowed on her as he picked up his chopsticks and ate some noodles. “I could shoot you right now and no one would blink.”
“That goes both ways, you know. I could shoot you as well.” A grin she had no doubt was just this side of feral lifted her lips ever so slightly.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Jasmine arched an eyebrow, hiding her smirk when his gaze flickered to the fake multicolored bar in her left eyebrow. Always so determined to gain the upper hand though this man was, he focused on easy-to-fake details.
“Don’t presume to know what I would or wouldn’t dare to do. After all, you know better than anyone how little I like to be betrayed.”
He sucked the noodles into his mouth and glared. “What are you doing here then? Planning on calling the cops and complaining about what happened to you? Need me to do you a favor? Put in a good word for you with Lance to try and get him not to hurt your heart?” The last bit was spoken on a sneer.
“I want nothing from you. I know better than to trust anything that comes out of your mouth. Been down that road and been burned before, I’ll happily skip a repeat.”
He tapped his chopsticks on the plate. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Lance has been injured. The kid tried to kill him.” New anger surged and she struggled to tamp it down.
Robert Gibson faltered a moment but regained his composure within seconds. “You know this how?”
“Because I saw him and sent him to get patched up.”
One black eyebrow winged up. “He’s at his apartment?”
“Nope. We started there but it was compromised. He’s going to need medical attention.”
“And you’re not being a doting little woman and patching him up yourself?”
“You know me, never been one for bedside manner.” She sipped her tea.
“I could have you arrested.”
A languid blink. “I don’t exist, Robert Gibson. You made sure of that, so be very careful. I didn’t play by your rules when I was an agent, what do you think I’ll do now if you piss me off?”
“I hate you.”
She shuddered. “I’m so damn distraught by that bit of information.”
He pulled the empty teacup she set down to himself by the handle, using a chopstick. “There’s plenty I can put on you.”
“You think I’m scared you have a cup with my print or DNA on it? Again, I don’t fucking exist. You can’t pin something on a shadow.” She rapped two knuckles on the table and rose. “I hope you can remember an address.” She rattled off an address and walked out, half expecting him to try to stop her.
No doubt he was on the phone the moment she turned her back to him. Had his hands not both been visible she would have assumed he’d pressed a panic button and sent out some sort of bat signal. But the man had been eating. And he was arrogant.
Didn’t matter, she wasn’t heading straight to her next destination. Instead she went and got lost in the crowd, doing as she’d been trained to—vanishing into thin air. Hours passed and she made her way carefully to her next destination.
More time passed, and she was about to give up, fearing her hunch hadn’t paid off, when a group of men looking like they were simply moving down the street to the building caught her eye.
They were good. She…was better.
Digging into the paper bag she held on her right side, she pulled out a carrot stick and munched on it as she weaved through the crowd and nudged her way between two of them, planting the bug on them. “Excuse me.” She moved on down the street, an extra sway in her hips.
A low whistle reached her and she grinned, turning around, holding another carrot in her hand and putting it up to her lips as she walked. With a waggle of her eyebrows and a wink, she pivoted again and sauntered off.
Once around the corner, she dropped the sack of food off at the feet of an unhoused young woman without slowing her gait and continued on, touching the earbud she wore.
“I heard he was here. That’s what the intel we were given was. Fourth floor. He’s injured but don’t underestimate him.”
Jasmine snarled at the deep, raspy voice. I knew it. I knew that bastard would sell him out.
“Why don’t we just let him die?” The door was squeaky but soon came the sound of men heading up stairs. “If he was that injured, shouldn’t he be succumbing to his injuries? He said she didn’t take him to a hospital.”