On The Rocks by Sable Jordan Read Free Book Online Page B

reason to hate her former
partner.
    And Bill.
    In fact, everything walking upright with a
penis right now could pretty much suck it. Hard.
    She marched past rows of identical, gated
brownstones, until she came to the address she’d been sent. A set
of stairs led up to the main porch. She opened the front gate and
bypassed the steps altogether. Found the arched metal door tucked
under the stairs. It looked like any other black security gate,
complete with shiny brass knob and keyhole. Except all that was
dressing. The only way in was an access pad hidden in the brick
facade.
    Kizzie jabbed in the code, punching the
buttons harder than necessary. A soft thunk sounded and then
she shoved inward. The whole gate and a section of the brick wall
gave way, the heavy barrier opening into a vestibule that ended
with a huge steel door. She closed the first behind her and got
busy with the second. This time, she entered a code and did a palm
and retinal scan before access was granted. The necessary steps
completed, she pulled her gun and opened the weighty portal.
    A set of fluorescents flickered on, setting
off a domino effect as the ones deeper in the expansive room got on
board.
    Everything inside was bathed in ice white
lighting, giving the place a pristine, virginal look. Like shoving
a hooker into a white wedding gown, the appearance here was as much
a front as any other CIA operation. Dark and dirty deeds were
planned inside these reinforced walls. Deeds meant to protect the
country, sure, but dirty nonetheless.
    Somewhere overhead the ventilation system
kicked on, pumping cool air into the room. Judging by the stale
smell in the place, she was alone.
    Kizzie stepped inside and closed the door.
Didn’t holster her weapon. Nope, she kept that puppy out as she
made a sweep to be sure there’d be no more surprises. With the door
at her six, five o’clock was a little kitchen area. Eleven o’clock
was a black couch pushed up against the wall. Deep twelve had two
rows of desks with computers on them, and a huge projector screen
hung from the wall at two. And in the middle of the floor was a
large circular table with chairs.
    All pretty standard.
    She moved through the space, checked for
exits. Found two. One led to another double-door combo that went to
the garden out back. Another veered off into a hallway. She limped
the length of the dark offshoot and determined the set of
double-doors there let out on the next block over.
    By the time Kizzie dropped herself onto the
armrest of the couch, Lennox Tate was coming through the main door,
a bag of ice pressed to the side of his head.
    “You skipped out just before the cops
arrived. I almost had to put a friendly out cold to avoid getting
questioned.”
    Cops shmops. If he hadn’t been trailing her
he wouldn’t have gotten his ass kicked— on the streets at least.
Because Lennox Tate had a pistol-whipping and more coming to
him.
    She really should have shot him.
    They stayed in thick silence —her glaring,
him grinning— and then the door pushed open again.
    “What the hell is he doing here?” Kizzie
barked.
    Bill Connolly’s head jerked up. His gaze
shifted from Kizzie to Lennox and back again. Cane assisting him,
he closed the door and came deeper into the overly-bright room.
    “Hello to you, too, Baldwin. How was the
vacation to…?”
    “Maldives,” Kizzie supplied. A smile ghosted
over her face as she thought of Phil and his ridiculous offer to
honeymoon there. What was he doing right now? Better yet, where in
the world were he and Xander?
    “The Maldives,” the old man repeated before
regret had a chance to dig its claws into her again. He didn’t look
like he bought it for a minute but he bobbed his graying head.
“Where you…?”
    “Intended to surf, but the winds were too
high. So I hopped a flight to Bali.”
    “Which part?”
    Kizzie frowned. “The part with waves,
Bill.”
    Why the third-degree over her fake
vacay?
    Surfing in the Maldives and Bali…