Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89815 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“What’s he doing?” Day asked quietly, his face in the menu.
“Ordering drinks and schmoozing with that chick.”
“Fucking sick old fuck,” Day growled low. “What is she? Twenty? And why the hell is he out here after his son’s been arrested? Like nothing is wrong?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” God murmured, glancing over the one-page menu. When he saw the prices, his eyes almost bugged out of his head. He hoped it didn’t take long for the department to reimburse them for this.
He took another piece of bread from the fancy basket and covered it with butter. He was still chewing when the waiter returned with their waters. The server’s assistant filled their glasses with Perrier while the waiter presented a bottle of red wine over his forearm against a piece of starched white linen.
“Oh. No thank you,” God said, refusing the wine.
“It’s already been paid for, sir.” The waiter smiled softly.
He and Day were both staring up at their server as if he was crazy. Shit, he hoped the DA hadn’t made them. God glanced in Rowland Senior’s direction but he still appeared infatuated with his tender date.
“It’s our best bottle of Cabernet, compliments of the gentleman.” The waiter’s assistant set two stemmed wide-rimmed glasses on the table and began to uncork the bottle.
“What gentleman?” God asked, still frowning.
The waiter cast his eyes upwards and God spun around to see Ex sitting in the third seat of their four-top table with his legs crossed and his hands clasped in his lap.
“Good evening, lieutenants. Fancy running into you two here.” Ex motioned to the waiter as if he were a regular there. “A couple orders of the escargot tarts for the table, please, señor.”
“Right away, sir,” the waiter answered after he left the bottle of wine in an intricate holder beside the table.
“Drink, drink, you’ve earned it detectives,” Ex said, his face a mask of indifference. “One corrupt DA down... one to go, yes?”
“We have these things called trials here in this part of the world. And the presumption of innocence until proven guilty. Yeah, you scared the DDA into turning himself in, but how long before he cries that he was coerced by two CIA agents?” God asked.
If Ex was surprised that they’d found out who they were, he did a damn good job not showing it. God saw out of the corner of his eye that the DA had just been served his entrees. He needed to move his evening along.
“You are quite the detective, Godfrey. You’ve certainly earned your title.” Ex nodded.
“Where’s your partner?” Day asked.
“Joining us, of course,” Ex said matter-of-factly, his cold gray eyes warming to liquid steel as they locked on whomever had snuck up behind him. God didn’t bother looking over his shoulder to see who it was, as Meridian sat in the last chair, across from his partner.
Day motioned to the now occupied seat. “By all means. Join us, get comfortable. The more killers the better. Have some bread.”
Meridian glared at Day, and God wanted his attention off him. “See something that bothers you?” God asked.
Meridian slowly turned his head towards him, but he didn’t speak and God started to remember some of the story that Ford had told them about this man.
“And if I did?” Meridian challenged, sounding as if he was narrating a horror novel.
God opened his mouth to tell that slick asshole just what he could do if he did, when Ex cut in.
“Settle down, you two. There’s no need for dick-measuring.”
“Agreed,” Day muttered. “God likes to keep things fair.”
Ex’s startled laugh stunned them, but not as much as Meridian. It was as if he’d never heard his own partner make that sound before. Ex quickly shut down his chuckle as if it had an on/off switch and straightened in his seat. He looked everywhere except at the man sitting across from him. God noted the strange interaction between them, and it wasn’t the first time he’d picked up on it.
The waiter came back with two more glasses of water for them. “Would you like to order a drink, sir?”
Ex beat Meridian to whatever he was about to say. “He’ll have a Remy Martin Black Pearl Cognac, neat.”
God watched Meridian’s dark eyes glimmer with something like affection, but that had to be impossible. These men were supposed to be emotionless machines. But the way these two looked at each other—it was as if he and Day weren’t even there.
“And for you? Anything else besides water?”
Ex shrugged, his gaze still on Meridian. “Whatever beer you have is fine.”
The two of them seemed to be polar opposites but somehow they’d been matched perfectly by the government. God supposed he could understand that. He and his husband had very different backgrounds, and while Day was likable and approachable, God was a person who could make a lady cross to the other side of the street rather than walk past him. But when they were together... none of that shit mattered.