Chapter Ten #2
In Chinatown, she walked slowly, looking for the storefront she knew would have the person she sought. Not that she wanted to see him, like ever, but it was for Lance, and she’d swiftly discovered for that man, she was willing to walk back into the lion’s den.
There.
Lian’s Red House of Lion Noodles. That was it, what she wanted. Some things never changed.
Tugging her dusky rose shirt down over her jeans, she walked to the door, took a deep breath and drew the door open.
The fragrant scents of Asian cuisine swarmed her and her belly rumbled immediately.
Even as she skimmed her gaze over the patrons, she was creating a list of definite “to gets” before she left.
Later.
Right now, something else was more important. She moved through the seating until she reached the table and the person she sought. Jasmine didn’t wait for an invitation, merely slid her ass over the opposite chair so she could face him.
Blue eyes snapped up to her and filled with anger and loathing. Robert Gibson.
“You.” One word, which dripped with so much disdain she could have paved a highway from coast to coast with it.
Expression blank, she slipped over into the seat next to him, maintaining a line of sight to the exits in the building.
“Let’s cut the small talk.” Without being offered, she reached for the shiny black teapot with intricate cherry blossoms painted on it. Not losing his gaze, she flipped a cup and poured it.
Jasmine.
One of her favorites.
“What are you doing here?” His gaze shifted from side to side.
“Worried you’re going to be outed for talking to a dead agent?”
Cold blue eyes narrowed on her as he picked up his chopsticks and ate some noodles. “I could shoot you right now and no one would blink.”
“That goes both ways, you know. I could shoot you as well.” A grin she had no doubt was just this side of feral lifted her lips ever so slightly.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
Jasmine arched an eyebrow, hiding her smirk when his gaze flickered to the fake multicolored bar in her left eyebrow. Always so determined to gain the upper hand though this man was, he focused on easy-to-fake details.
“Don’t presume to know what I would or wouldn’t dare to do. After all, you know better than anyone how little I like to be betrayed.”
He sucked the noodles into his mouth and glared. “What are you doing here then? Planning on calling the cops and complaining about what happened to you? Need me to do you a favor? Put in a good word for you with Lance to try and get him not to hurt your heart?” The last bit was spoken on a sneer.
“I want nothing from you. I know better than to trust anything that comes out of your mouth. Been down that road and been burned before, I’ll happily skip a repeat.”
He tapped his chopsticks on the plate. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Lance has been injured. The kid tried to kill him.” New anger surged and she struggled to tamp it down.
Robert Gibson faltered a moment but regained his composure within seconds. “You know this how?”
“Because I saw him and sent him to get patched up.”
One black eyebrow winged up. “He’s at his apartment?”
“Nope. We started there but it was compromised. He’s going to need medical attention.”
“And you’re not being a doting little woman and patching him up yourself?”
“You know me, never been one for bedside manner.” She sipped her tea.
“I could have you arrested.”
A languid blink. “I don’t exist, Robert Gibson. You made sure of that, so be very careful. I didn’t play by your rules when I was an agent, what do you think I’ll do now if you piss me off?”
“I hate you.”
She shuddered. “I’m so damn distraught by that bit of information.”
He pulled the empty teacup she set down to himself by the handle, using a chopstick. “There’s plenty I can put on you.”
“You think I’m scared you have a cup with my print or DNA on it? Again, I don’t fucking exist. You can’t pin something on a shadow.” She rapped two knuckles on the table and rose. “I hope you can remember an address.” She rattled off an address and walked out, half expecting him to try to stop her.
No doubt he was on the phone the moment she turned her back to him. Had his hands not both been visible she would have assumed he’d pressed a panic button and sent out some sort of bat signal. But the man had been eating. And he was arrogant.
Didn’t matter, she wasn’t heading straight to her next destination. Instead she went and got lost in the crowd, doing as she’d been trained to—vanishing into thin air. Hours passed and she made her way carefully to her next destination.
More time passed, and she was about to give up, fearing her hunch hadn’t paid off, when a group of men looking like they were simply moving down the street to the building caught her eye.
They were good. She…was better.
Digging into the paper bag she held on her right side, she pulled out a carrot stick and munched on it as she weaved through the crowd and nudged her way between two of them, planting the bug on them. “Excuse me.” She moved on down the street, an extra sway in her hips.
A low whistle reached her and she grinned, turning around, holding another carrot in her hand and putting it up to her lips as she walked. With a waggle of her eyebrows and a wink, she pivoted again and sauntered off.
Once around the corner, she dropped the sack of food off at the feet of an unhoused young woman without slowing her gait and continued on, touching the earbud she wore.
“I heard he was here. That’s what the intel we were given was. Fourth floor. He’s injured but don’t underestimate him.”
Jasmine snarled at the deep, raspy voice. I knew it. I knew that bastard would sell him out.
“Why don’t we just let him die?” The door was squeaky but soon came the sound of men heading up stairs. “If he was that injured, shouldn’t he be succumbing to his injuries? He said she didn’t take him to a hospital.”
It took every ounce of the training that had been drilled into her to hold onto in any circumstance to keep moving in the same direction as opposed to spinning around and heading back there to take them all out.
Slowing her breathing, she stopped at a small streetside café.
She stood in line, continuing to listen.
“This floor.” The deepest of the voices she’d heard thus far spoke up. “Fifth door on the right.” A pause. “Don’t fuck this up or I will kill you myself. This is an easy in and out.”
Jasmine gestured to a strawberry Danish and set a bottle of cold water on the counter. She slid a ten over the counter and picked up her items before heading to an open table outside.
As she winked at a little girl with blonde pigtails and pink ribbons, she sat and picked at the Danish. The she uncapped the water for a swig. She heard the breach of the apartment door and seconds after that…
The explosion.