Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88487 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Yet, no matter how invasive or offensive his questions were, no one got upset. They only grew more pleasant.
West scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear his head of the clutter as he walked down the street from his hotel. He’d spent the first part of the morning checking in with Marilyn, Alexei’s handler, about the contract and whether it looked as if any assassins had expressed interest in it. So far, it looked like no one wanted to travel to the small country for such a tiny bounty. That gave him time to keep digging.
He passed the first couple of days in the city center, where the moneymakers and movers of Gaoxing were most likely to exist. Money made the world go round and if the royal family was threatening the growth of money, he’d find discord there.
But he came up with nothing. More sickening love for the royal family.
Today, he was hitting one of the older districts. Crown Prince Jin Long Wei was young—he’d just celebrated his thirtieth birthday earlier in the year. Maybe the older generation didn’t trust him. He’d witnessed plenty of that back in the States. It made sense that a little cadre of disgruntled old men who wanted to get rid of the prince could have put the contract out.
A sigh slipped from his lips as he stopped at a corner and looked down the street. The sun was shining in a cornflower-blue sky, birds were singing, and the road held only the occasional car. Even then, it was electric, so there was no loud rumble of noise. The only thing worth complaining about was the brisk wind that wound through the city. Despite being only late September, the air was autumn cool, thanks to the high altitude of the town. But the warm embrace of the sun chased away the kiss of cold air.
How could anyone be plotting against the royal family in a place like this?
Insane.
All of this was insane.
He was trapped in a Stephen King book.
He’d died on the plane to Gaoxing and now he was stuck in this weird limbo or hell where everything was perfect and plotting to kill him.
Whatever. He’d get to the bottom of this plot, figure out what needed to be done, do it, and get the fuck out of there. Return to where the world was full of hard edges, betrayal, and dirt. That he could understand.
First, tea.
It wasn’t so much that coffee was impossible to get his hands on in Jin, but rather it wasn’t very good because most of the population didn’t drink coffee. They drank tea. The coffee was for the tourists, and the tourists cared little about good coffee—hence the limited selection of mass-produced crap. Tourists just wanted a mix of caffeine and sugar.
The tea, on the other hand, was exquisite: The wide selection of blends from black to white to green and even herbal. Teas for moods and ailments.
For as long as he could remember, his day had begun with a cup of black coffee and a scowl. After that first morning of searching out coffee in Jin and being stuck with sad nastiness, he’d tried the tea and discovered warm happiness in a cup.
Now, he frequented the many tea shops that dotted the city for his tea fix.
This morning was a new one with a dark-wood front that was broken up with hanging pots of colorful flowers. He stepped inside, his eyes skimming over the clusters of tables and the counter at the far end of the long room. A couple of customers were standing at the counter waiting for their to-go order. Only one table held customers. Four elderly women sat around, cups of tea at their elbows while mah-jongg tiles covered the surface.
“Good morning!” a young woman greeted in bright and clear English. She approached him with a bounce in her step and a broom in her hand.
Fuck, she could have been a Disney princess.
“Would you like to start your day with a warm cup of our new fall apple-and-spice blend?” she continued when it looked as though West might slink out the door and back under whatever rock he’d escaped from.
Disney princess or not, that sounded like a pleasant drink after the cool morning.
“That would be wonderful,” he admitted, inching inside.
“Excellent!” She genuinely sounded as if he’d made her entire day. He followed her up to the counter where they discussed things like for here or to-go and if he needed a little snack with his tea. Once everything was settled and the tab paid, West selected a table somewhat close to the four women playing mah-jongg. If he was lucky, they would be chatty rather than closed-lipped and secretive.
Conversation starters raced through his brain as he shed his jacket and placed it over the back of the chair. Talking wasn’t one of his stronger skills. Soren and Charlie were the talkers. Hell, even Ed was a chatty motherfucker, and he always handled the talking when they were together on a job.