Bonus Scene
Ryan Albertson leafed through the documents on his desk with a calm few men possessed, but that tick in his eye told Jax everything he needed know. It was his job to recognize even the smallest details, like Albertson’s thousand-dollar shirt and the solid-gold pen sitting beside his relaxed hand. Both were indicators that the man could afford a hacker of Jax’s caliber, hence the reason why he’d taken this assignment. At least initially.
The final page of the report listed the name his client wanted. Ryan’s gaze narrowed as he read the last line, and his brow pinched. “Mark Kincaid. Who the fuck is Mark Kincaid?”
“He’s an operative with the Alliance of Black Ops Services, sir. A private security company for hire.” That’s what his contact had said, anyway. He couldn’t find any details on them, which was a rarity and one that intrigued him deeply. “From what I’ve gathered, they provide elite services with hefty price tags.”
Ryan tossed the papers onto his desk with a snort. “Which means someone with adequate finances hired him to destroy me. Any idea who?”
Jax pulled a note from his leather jacket and placed it on the mahogany desk. “Does this name ring a bell?”
His icy gaze narrowed, then widened. “Interesting, and yes, it does.”
“Then I believe my work here is done.”
“Of course.” Ryan slid an envelope across the flat surface. “I’ve added a bonus.”
“Appreciated,” Jax murmured as he pocketed the money without counting it. He knew the future senator wouldn’t short him. “Best of luck, sir.” He nodded as a gesture of respect and walked out the door, all the while keeping Ryan in his periphery—a habit of the job, and also why he brought more than one weapon with him should he need it.
He exited the Albertson mansion and hopped onto his motorcycle without any issues, likely because the family considered him more valuable alive. For now.
Jax carried out various evasive maneuvers on the road, just in case the notorious political family had anyone following him, and came to a stop thirty minutes later outside a local coffee house just north of Chicago. A dark-haired man with a well-trimmed beard sat waiting on the patio, sipping a cappuccino.
Jax parked and sauntered up with a grin. “You couldn’t even be bothered to buy me one?”
Kincaid shrugged. “Didn’t know how long you would be.”
“Bastard.” He kicked out a seat, swung it around, and straddled it. With his arms folded on the top, he eyed his old friend. “Albertson has some nasty connections, Kincaid. You gonna tell me what the fuck all that was about?”
“He needed a new hobby,” he replied in that vague way of his. “Or rather, a new obsession. And I’ve just given him one.”
“You.”
“Yes.” Kincaid set his cup down after another casual sip and tilted his head back to admire the sky through his dark shades. “Rachel deserves a break. It’s my turn to play now.”
“Which is why you had me give him that random senator’s name.”
He shrugged. “Two birds, one stone.” Which meant the name hadn’t been random at all, but a solution to a separate issue. Interesting. “I’ll send my feedback to Caleb regarding your candidacy.” Because that’s what this whole thing had been, an interview for a job, with some bonuses.
Kincaid slid a card across the table as he added, “But consider yourself hired, Jax. Welcome to ABS Operatives.”