Scar snorted. “Yeah, sure. My gang had Bible study every Wednesday night, but I never made it since I had choir rehearsal.”
Meridian glared as if he didn’t know what a sense of humor was. “Don’t underestimate what a soldier of God is capable of. Especially when defending the weak.”
Scar frowned. He didn’t care what any of them said. Gage wasn’t built for this.
And he didn’t need a partner anyway. He worked best alone. Always had, always would.
“I’m more shocked you’ve read the Bible. You don’t seem the spiritual type,” he said
Meridian smirked. “Lucifer was in heaven before he was damned to hell.”
The restaurant was the kind of expensive he never thought he’d dine in.
There was no loud music, neon signs, or sticky shit on the floor.
It was all soft lighting, heavy fabric tablecloths, high-backed booths, and fancy place settings that reflected the lights of the chandeliers.
Scar walked inside and immediately wanted to turn around, but Meridian settled right in as if he belonged.
He ordered a drink that Scar had never heard of. It arrived in a short, thick crystal glass with a single cube of ice that appeared hand-cut.
Scar asked for a Blue Moon beer on draft, and the waitress blinked, mouth turned down in disgust, as if he’d asked her for a table dance.
Meridian didn’t save him. Didn’t smooth it over or even glance up from his menu.
Scar cleared his throat, annoyed. “Imported lager.”
When she left, Scar shifted in the booth.
He looked around, cataloging, because it’s what he did when he was in a foreign environment.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Scar’s patience thinned to a wire.
“I thought you said I was working.”
Meridian sipped from his glass.
“You are.”
Scar leaned forward. “Do I have a mark or something?”
“Or something.”
“Come on, man.”
Meridian’s gaze finally met his.
“An assassin without tolerance has already failed,” Meridian said. “The field rewards restraint, and punishes impatience.”
Scar swallowed his frustration. “So we’re just sitting here.”
“We’re working,” Meridian corrected.
Scar opened his mouth to argue, but Meridian didn’t give him a chance as he began to fire off questions.
“What were the hostesses’ names?”
Scar didn’t hesitate. “Lena and Marci.”
