Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 538(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I shake my head. “He’s not charging the crystals. If you infect the amethyst crystals that power the Hologrid Hub servers, you’ll end up killing Hendrix, not Alexei.”
“Hendrix is an ass.” Alana reaches for a bowl of miniature pretzels. She slides a pretzel in her mouth and chews softly so as not to bug me. Guilt instantly flushes me that my friends can’t enjoy a pretzel without trying to be quiet about it. It’s not my fault, but I still feel like an asshole. Alana doesn’t seem to mind.
She glances at her aquamarine-and garnet-encrusted watch. “I have about a half an hour more, and then I need to go create posts for Aquarius Social. It’s almost midnight.”
I’m not up to my usual state of holding the phone for her while she posts. I’m a little wobbly, to be honest. “Alana? How do you deal with that? The fact that Thorn runs the Irish mob?”
She sobers. “I accept all of him. Plus, I trust him to control the organization better than anybody else. I trust him.”
Is it possible for me to trust somebody that much? To ignore the danger and crime associated with Alexei? A shadow crosses our table, and I look up to see dark blue eyes and thick blond hair. “Hendrix,” I murmur. It figures he’s at the hottest new club in town.
“Hello, Miss Mooncrest,” he says, smiling. He has perfect teeth. I’ve always admired people who have perfect teeth. Mine are close but no cigar. “I was hoping I could have a moment to speak with you.”
Alana draws back. She probably does feel weird, considering she was the last person to see his brother alive, and Thorn probably killed the guy. Of course, Cal Sokolov was a complete ass.
“No,” Ella says for me.
Wait a minute. I’m a lawyer on a case. Maybe Hendrix has been drinking. “No, that’s all right.” I scoot from the booth and waver on my four-inch heels.
Hendrix grasps my elbow. “Are you all right?” He leans down, smelling of dusky cologne. He has to be a good six-foot-two and is well muscled. The rugged planes of his face are rather attractive.
“Yes, I’m fine.” Besides my kitten heels that had been unfortunately destroyed by fire earlier that day, these four-inch Louboutins I snatched at a secondhand store last month are my favorite.
“I’ll bring her right back to you.” Hendrix winks at Ella. She glowers at him. I’ve always liked her overprotective side. She looks tiny and defenseless, but she could destroy his life with a couple of keystrokes if she wanted.
Hendrix leads me graciously across the VIP area to a quiet booth where he settles me before sitting across the glass table.
“Can I get you a drink?” He lifts one finger to signal the waitress.
She hustles up, her bosom swaying, and practically shoves both boobs in his face as she leans over. “Can I help you?”
Crap. If she gets any closer, she may smother him.
He leans back slightly. “The lady would like an apple martini with two apple slices, and I’ll take a Balvenie Old Port Wood on the rocks.”
I’ve never liked scotch, but it seems like such a manly thing to order. I blink several times in an effort to clear my vision. “What can I do for you, Hendrix?” I only slur his name slightly.
His smile makes him appear even more handsome. While his younger brother had been slick with the good looks, Hendrix is smooth. I like that about a guy.
He taps his fingers on the table. “I feel we should discuss Alexei and your representation of him.”
“What would you like to discuss?”
“Your safety,” Hendrix says calmly. “I won’t be able to sleep if I fail to at least warn you that he’s a very dangerous man.”
Well, no kidding. I learned that today firsthand. “I appreciate the warning.”
“He killed David Fairfax.” Hendrix leans forward. “You need to understand that fact. He actually killed the man in cold blood.”
“He says that he was set up,” I mumble. There’s a ring of truth as well as anger in Alexei’s eyes every time he talks about the murder.
Hendrix purses his lips as if he’s just sucked on a lemon as the waitress deposits our drinks, once again pushing her boobs toward his face. I don’t think the guy looks like he needs to breastfeed at the moment, but what do I know? She pats his shoulder and then turns, her butt swaying seductively as she walks away on four-inch spiked boots. I admire that. I’ve never mastered the sway in high heels. Both Hendrix and I watch her go, then he turns back toward me.
“He is a killer.”
I’m well aware that he is a killer, but I don’t think he killed David Fairfax. “I don’t see Alexei being dumb enough to hide the murder weapon in a pond right outside the back door of a mansion,” I say. “Do you?”