Page 12 of Assassin's Game
Chapter Six
Nix —
The man walking ahead of me along the Buckhead area sidewalk caught my attention the minute I rounded the corner. Tall, sexy dark blond hair just a touch too long, forceful stride that said he knew where he was going and wasn’t taking his time getting there. But it was his shoulders that snagged and held my attention. They filled out his expensive-looking tailored suit better than the Rock filled out a tight T-shirt.
Why I noticed, I didn’t know. Maybe my long-neglected libido and the smooth slide of my thighs against each other in their silky stockings were to blame. It had been a long time since I’d worn anything but fatigues, possibly a decade since I’d had on a skirt, thigh-highs, and stiletto heels—but the chic Italian restaurant I was headed to had a dress code, even for lunch.
Bram Sullivan was meeting a client here, making it the best time to tiptoe into physical surveillance of him. And that meant someone from our team had to be in the dining room.
Lucky me.
I focused on those shoulders and not the pinch of my pointy-toed shoes. I’d always had a thing for wide shoulders. Something about the way a man could dwarf you with the width of his body, either standing or in bed. Always being the one in charge, it was nice to be dwarfed by a man occasionally, to feel small and fragile. It might be a lie—the fragile part, anyway, since I was built on the smaller side—but I enjoyed pretending, at least for a little while.
The way Suit Guy was built, I might not have to pretend. He was almost as big as Titus, which was saying something. I’d definitely be fragile in the grip of those muscles. Which made the excellent fit of his jacket a minor miracle.
“Nice fumble, Titus.”
Monty’s sarcastic shot jerked me out of fantasy and back into reality. I shifted a couple of steps left, and the front door of the restaurant came into view. Titus, wearing a black-and-gold valet’s uniform that was on the snug side for his body, was already circling the back end of Sullivan’s car, keys in hand. Monty must’ve seen Titus bump into the target as he handed off the keys, an intentional move Titus had executed to get close enough to drop a tiny bug into Sullivan’s pants pocket. Their target seemed oblivious as he walked through the stained glass doors at the front without a backward glance toward the man settling behind the wheel of his hundred-thousand-dollar BMW with the custom cherry-apple red paint job.
“Don’t forget to bug the car too,” I murmured, knowing the mic attached to the earbud covered by my long, loose hair would pick up the words. Suit Guy, just ahead, glanced to his left, almost as if he’d heard me, and my breath caught in my throat as I drank in his profile. That longish hair swept back from his forehead, leaving the strong lines of his face bare. A sharp nose was balanced by thick blond brows and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee combo. A quick smile at a passerby revealed even white teeth behind his full lips and the barest dimple below the cheekbone that slashed across his face.
He was gorgeous...and distracting, especially combined with that body.
Get your head in the game, Nix.I couldn’t afford distractions, now or any other time.
I was a few yards behind Suit Guy as he entered the doors of the restaurant. Not close enough to hear his request for a seat, but close enough to catch a glimpse of the folded bill that passed between his hand and the maître d’s before he was led away from the front reception desk.
When my turn came, there was no need for a bribe—Maris had hacked the reservation system earlier to find Sullivan’s regular table, positioning me at an angle to his. Still I passed the maître d’ a crisp fifty after he held my seat for me to settle at the table. I tucked myself closer, tilted my menu up for perusal, and glanced over the gilded top edge.
Right into the amber-colored eyes of Suit Guy.
The gut-punch feeling that hit me with his direct stare forced me to suck in a ragged breath. And then he winked. So quick I had to wonder if I’d imagined it, one eyelid fluttered down and up. His gaze dropped to the heat I felt slowly creeping up my neck to my cheeks, and one side of that full mouth twisted up in a smile so smug it made me want to smack him.
A throat clearing at my elbow pulled my attention away. By the time I’d ordered, Suit Guy was inspecting the wine menu and carrying on a heated debate with his waiter about the selections, thank fuck. I turned my attention, not without some relief, to Bram Sullivan’s table, directly between us.
Maris and Monty had hacked Sullivan’s calendar last night. The man was our only direct link with X, and we were hoping he’d lead us to our blackmailer. It didn’t hurt that, in the meantime, our actions looked like compliance. We had zero intention of complying, but whatever it took to buy us time.
“Anything interesting?” Monty asked in my ear.
“Only if you think oysters for lunch are interesting,” I said, hiding the movement of my lips behind my raised water glass.
“Aphrodisiac?” Monty suggested.
I eyed the man across from Sullivan at his table. “Possibly.” The man didn’t look like he would enjoy playing nursemaid, though, and from the images we’d found last night on Sullivan’s cloud account, that’s what he was into. Which reminded me...
“Any sign of our watcher?” I asked before sliding a bite of chicken parmigiana into my mouth, refusing to let my eyes roll back in my head at the delectable taste, no matter how much they wanted to.
Maris and Monty’s poking around had revealed more than Sullivan’s questionable proclivities in the bedroom. They’d also revealed a tracker embedded in the man’s computer. Since it hadn’t been there the first time Monty took a peek, we figured X was keeping watch to be sure we were handling our end of his “bargain.” And if he was watching online, it stood to reason he might be watching in person. We were counting on it, in fact.
“Nothing yet,” Rhys replied. I knew he’d arrived well before Sullivan and I had. The man’s emotionless words helped settle the roller coaster of my own reactions this afternoon. He’d always done that, even when he’d been a new recruit in my father’s unit. Rhys Bryant hid his emotions better than any soldier I’d met, and I’d met thousands in my lifetime. If it weren’t for the man’s reactions to Maris, I’d swear he’d been born devoid of feelings, but no man with that kind of anger was emotionally barren. If only I could figure out what it was about my sister that sparked his deeply buried feelings...
I caught the subtle shifting of Sullivan’s hips in his seat, a sure sign that all the wine he’d consumed was hitting his bladder. “Pit stop imminent.”
From the corner of my eye I saw a tall man in a gorgeous navy suit stand and make his way across the room. “Monty, remind me to tell Maris she is a goddess.” The color she’d chosen perfectly set off Rhys’s ginger coloring, drawing every feminine eye in the place. Exactly the opposite of what a watcher would expect—mercenaries didn’t deliberately draw attention. Rhys, however...the man was deadly. Attention or not, he was firmly in control of every encounter.
My teammate shot me a frown as he passed. Moments later Sullivan stood and excused himself from his table.
I relaxed back into my chair and forked up another bite of cheesy chicken and pasta, secure in the knowledge that my charge was in good hands. I’d barely swallowed when Suit Guy stood from his table and walked toward the restrooms at the rear of the restaurant.
