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)
After a brief stop, she stepped back out on the street, no longer looking like a Wal-Mart reject, and slipped in the rear entrance to a bar she frequented. A lot. Without so much as a hesitation, she claimed her seat in the back. It gave her an unobstructed view of the door.
She’d spent many hours in here, sometimes sleeping when she wasn’t safe anywhere else, sometimes just people watching. Before her was an empty bottle she’d grabbed on her way in. All part of her cover.
She sat there and went over everything. Jasmine didn’t trust the FBI. She didn’t trust any of the alphabet groups. Any organization that was more concerned with hoarding their own secrets and knowledge than sharing with another company to prevent catastrophes from happening wasn’t one that worked with the country’s best interest at heart.
“Here you go, babe.” A tall glass of ice and a sealed bottle of water appeared by her left hand. Seconds later, an IPA sat there as well.
“Thanks, Corri.”
The waitress smiled at her and swiped up the empty. “No worries. Anything else for you right now?”
“This is perfect, thank you.” The glass of ice water was what she preferred, because she didn’t trust herself to be drinking like she once did.
Two hours she sat there and nursed her water and a beer. One hundred and twenty minutes before her phone rang. She swiped it and put it up to her ear.
“Yeah?”
“Where are you?”
That wasn’t Lance’s voice.
It was Michel’s.
“Donna’s Bar on Second. Why?”
“How long have you been there?”
“A few hours. What’s going on?”
“Stay there. Father has some men coming to get you.”
“Where’s Lance?”
“You should be worried about yourself, not your boyfriend.” He hung up.
Probably, but she was worried about him as well. Nothing was going to change that.
When the men walked in, she got to her feet and tossed some money down for Corri. With a wave to her, she met the men by the door. They nodded at her and settled in on each side of her as they went up the street.
“Anyone going to clue me in on what’s going on?”
Both men, large, with their faces fixed in permanent scowls, glanced at her then looked forward once more. They led her through the crowd to a large black SUV with tinted windows. The driver’s one was lowered.
ASPs comfortably stored on her person, she shrugged like she didn’t care. However, when they reached the vehicle, she balked. This, once again, drew the focus of both men. The one behind the wheel angled his head to look at her. Then he gazed at the two with her.
“I’m not going until you tell me what’s going on.”
The largest, his square jaw shaved clean of any and all hair, tensed. “Get in the car.”
“Umm, no.”
“You need to get in the vehicle. I will put you in there.”
Her attitude and anger spiked and she didn’t think through the wisdom of challenging the man. “You put your hand on me and Lance will kill you, if there’s anything left once I beat the shit out of you.”
His blue eyes narrowed on her face. A tiny grin turned up the corner of his mouth.
“Mr. Dusan would like a word with you, if you could please get in the backseat.”
She flashed a grin and hopped in. “Okay.” Without asking, she slid to the middle of the bench seat, allowing the two to each claim a spot on her side.
Silently they got in, and the driver pulled out. The low bass on the radio had her bobbing her head along with the music. More than one look came from them. These poor men, they had no idea what she was truly capable of. She had no doubt she could kill all three before any of them were able to defend themselves.
At the agency they may call her a ghost, but her name had been Smoke. She could enter and leave without anyone knowing and she could kill without leaving a trace.
When Bohemian Rhapsody came on, she used the seat in front of her as drums, making them feel she was lost in her own world and not paying them or theirs any attention. In reality, nothing was further from the truth.
The moment she realized they weren’t taking her to where Dusan was, she knew there would be three more deaths on her hands before the end of this day. Jasmine continued bobbing her head as she reached up and pulled out her hair sticks and used them as some air drums.
Spinning them in her hands, she stuck fast and without compunction at the men to either side of her, driving the sticks into the sides of their necks, opening their carotids. As they died, she lunged forward and snapped the neck of the driver. His death was faster and more humane than the deaths of the other two. Holding the wheel, she yanked him from behind the wheel and got them off the road.