Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
No way! Gage was buzzing inside.
“If you’re not too tired, I can take you to check out some of it.”
Gage shoved the last bites of his sandwich into his mouth. “I’m not tired. Let’s go.”
White Ravens
Scar
Scar walked to the bar with confidence. He’d long ago perfected how to charm someone, all while planning to rob them.
The bartender glanced in his direction before her gaze slid up and down his body with interest.
Elias had dressed him like an affluent man who belonged in a place like this.
He wore gray wool slacks with a tailored hem stopping just above his Polo boots, a cream cashmere sweater layered beneath a camel-colored blazer that Elias said was built for his shoulders, and a cream wool flat cap he’d pulled low to conceal his hair.
He felt it was over the top, but he’d been told he better get used to it.
Clothes were camouflage. They told people he was the man he was portraying himself to be.
Scar smiled as he slid onto the stool.
“Good evening,” she said, blinking her long lashes.
“Good evening to you too, Miss—” Scar winked. “Well, I hope it’s Miss.”
She laughed softly. “Yes, it is. Miss Sokolova. Anya Sokolova.”
Scar hummed. “Sokolova. Is that Russian?”
Anya seemed amused now. “Bulgarian…Varna to be precise.”
Scar ran his hand over his goatee. “I was close, but your accent is very faint.”
“I was raised in Queens. My mother was the dean of international studies at NYU.”
“Ahhh, nice. Free tuition to one of the top universities in the world.”
“Exactly.” She gave him a sly grin. “I’m double-majoring in business and economics.”
“Wow. Beauty and brains. So I guess studying is what you do with your spare time. Not free to do much else.”
“Well, not all my spare time,” she bit her bottom lip, leaning closer. “What can I get you, Mr…?”
“Most people only get my last name. But for you, beautiful…you can call me Julian.”
He knew he was pouring it on thick as tar, but he had less than five minutes now, and four more questions that needed answers.
She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear. “Okay, Julian,” she damn near purred. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll take a Black Manhattan. Bourbon, not rye. Stirred slow.” Scar glanced down at Anya’s cleavage and licked his lips before meeting her darkening gaze again. “I don’t like things rushed.”
As he sipped the bittersweet drink, he listened more than he spoke, letting his easy mark fill the silence herself.
He pulled out the details he wanted with small hooks.
Fourteen minutes later, he returned to his and Meridian’s table.
He’d overshot the deadline, but he’d gotten what he was asked to get and more, down to the neighborhood she lived in, the kind of car she drove, and the fact she worked a second seasonal job at a boutique because she was planning on going on a cruise to Jamaica next summer.
He was more than satisfied with himself.
Meridian glanced at him, then at the black face of his watch, before he shook his head as if he were disappointed.
“Seriously?”
“You spent too much time on an insignificant who wasn’t your mark.”
Scar balked, almost choking on his breath of disbelief. “What? You’re joking.”
Meridian didn’t smile.
“Your mark is the lonely-looking woman eating by herself at the far end of the bar.”
Scar turned.
An older lady—maybe in her late sixties—wearing a gray pantsuit, with her brown and silver hair pulled in a loose bun, sat dejected at the bar with a mostly eaten pasta dinner in front of her.
She wasn’t the type he normally hunted.
As if Meridian knew what he was thinking, he cut in, voice flat.
“In this line of work, you can’t assume anything by appearances. Monsters don’t always look like monsters. Innocence is a well-known disguise, and you’d do well to never forget that.”
Now he knew, and Meridian had made sure he learned it the hard way.
“Your mark is Evelyn Hartmann. She’s an intelligence analyst at the Pentagon, and it’s believed she’s been bleeding classified data to a foreign intermediary. And we need you to get proof of it.”
“How the fuck am I supposed to gain her trust when I’ve been flirting my ass off with the sex-on-legs bartender?” he muttered.
Meridian slid a small drive across the table.
“That’s for you to figure out,” he said dryly. “Get her to take you back to her place. Get into her office and insert that drive into her computer.”
Scar tried not to appear as dumbfounded as he felt.
Back to her place?
“Go to her place and ask to do what exactly…watch late-night television?”
“I’m sure you’ll think of something.”
“I don’t know shit about computers.”
“Just insert the damn disk,” Meridian gritted. “It’ll do the rest.”
Scar shoved the device into his breast pocket, his irritation sparking.
“You could’ve just sent me after her in the first place.”
“You need to learn how to pivot and adapt in the field.”