“A little late, wouldn’t you say?” Her anger, on a scale of one to ten, sits around a five. Considering the circumstances, I did well.
Smith clears his throat and when I look up, he directs his frown at me. “You should’ve taken my advice and used the reward money to buy a tropical island and retire.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” I’m still snickering as Oliver’s chauffeur passes the United Nations and turns onto a side street.
The town car stops in front of a columned building with two lions resting on the cement landing. Above my head, winged gargoyles crouch as if to swoop down and bite my head off.
Inside, the lobby guard raises his brows, studying our bloody attire. “Second floor, sir?”
“Yes. See we’re not disturbed.” Clearly, my friend has risen in the ranks since last we met. I’ve never heard of anyone expecting privacy at the posh club.
After walking up a set of stairs, Lanita asks for the ladies room. Before she comes back, I make Smith aware of my mindset. “Nothing, not even foreign policy, is more important than her. I need the Chinese cartel out of my life for good and you are going to help.”
~Chapter 24~
Landy
If not for the door marked Ladies, I’d wonder if I’ve traveled back in time to Victorian England. The space shouts old-boys club. Velvety maroon paper covers the walls. Leather chairs sit around circular, well-polished tables or evenly spaced by reading lamps.
Inside the bathroom, my blood-splattered reflection stares back at me. Detangling a hair tie from my ponytail, I comb my fingers through the mess and stick my head under the faucet until the water runs clear.
I’ve seen my share of bloody bodies but never one caused by me pulling the trigger. As my last meal threatens a second coming, I notice the drycleaner bag with my name on it.
Happy to toss away my filthy clothes, I slip on the soft cotton t-shirt dress. A sip of water, my stomach settles, and I join the men at the stool-less mahogany bar.
The spook reaches under the counter, pulls out an expensive looking brandy and splashes amber liquid into two lowball glasses.
Feeling left out, I point. “I’ll have the same.”
The two men share a glance and raise their eyebrows but I’m unconcerned. During my tours abroad, me and my pals drank rotgut that doubled as paint remover.
“Cheers.” As Smith and Dash toast their good fortune, I add, “Semper Fi.”
We clink and it burns all the way down. They wait for my reaction but all they see is my shit-eating grin.
“Smooth.” I laugh with them, we down more shots, and soon we’re best of friends.
After talking about two ex-wives and kids, the MI6 agent shifts the conversation back to the Meadowlands. “How did you pass through the stadium’s security?”
“Need to know basis only, sorry.” I’m pretty sure Dr. Jones wouldn’t want this guy learning of her dark web prototype.
“Fair enough.” He looks at me sideways and turns to the bounty hunter. “I like her. Don’t fuck this up.”
Leaning my way, he whispers in my ear, asks for my phone, and types in an international number. “Hun, if things don’t go well with him, you call me.”
My not amused lover pushes him aside. “Do not make me have to shoot you, Smith. This is your last warning.”
We leave the bar around two in the morning. Judging from their stories, I’m guessing Dash has collected millions of reward dollars. I’m surprised. He doesn’t act rich.
Soon, the chauffeur parks in front of an apartment building in Chelsea where I’m pulled to an upstairs bedroom overlooking 23rdStreet. There, Dash wraps me in his arms and nibbles on my neck until chills run down my back.
“What is this place?” I peer out the closed blinds, then twist them shut.
“Safe house.” Tossing off his dark shirt, he pulls my t-shirt dress over my head, unhooks my bra, and as our flesh connects, my nipples harden.
My hands at his back, I kiss his salty neck and pause. “It looks like a regular apartment to me.”
“Ever hear of security by obscurity?” He tugs off my panties.
