The Executioner's Game by Gary Hardwick Read Free Book Online Page B

Luther.
    â€œIt’s okay,” said Tomiko. “My people got here while we were dancing. I gave them the ‘I’m with someone promising’ sign.”
    Luther smiled dutifully, but in truth he had seen her give that sign, a cute little gesture whereby she tugged at her earring absently. Tomiko wore diamond studs, and a woman might rub, push, or scratch them, but a tug? That was a sign.
    She gave him her phone number. He didn’t offer his. Tomiko went over to her friends, who bubbled with excitement about the handsome man she was with. Luther watched her go but made sure he turned away when she got to her table.
    â€œNice ass on her,” said Frank as he walked up. “No need to let it go for me.”
    â€œI didn’t,” Luther said.
    â€œWhat did you tell her your name was?”
    â€œJordan,” said Luther.
    â€œNice. Let’s get a table.”
    Luther and Frank walked over to a raised area up and away from the dance floor and grabbed a little table. There were not many people in this area, as most of the action was focused on the dance floor, the surrounding tables, and the bar. They ordered drinks, and Luther could already tell that Frank was up to something. He was jovial and laughing just a little too much. Frank was very intelligent, but he lacked the one quality that would makehim a great agent. He had no instinct, that innate ability to know behavior and how to behave, to see and to hide. He stank at it, so before Sharon Bane walked in, Luther knew he had been set up.
    Sharon Bane was pretty and doe-eyed, with a frame that was deceptively feminine. Underneath her all-American, girl-next-door looks was a hard woman who was trained in the deadly arts and bragged that she could bench-press two and a half times her weight.
    Sharon was wearing a pair of tight jeans and stiletto-heeled boots. Her top was thin and airy and showed just a hint of her bra underneath. She wore little or no makeup, but her skin was so smooth that it was hard to tell sometimes. Her hair was neatly tied back into her trademark ponytail.
    She was a woman of many contrasts. She came from a family of shit-kickers in Missouri, and you could tell that she’d worked hard to cover up her southern accent.
    Frank had been trying to get into her pants with no success. Sharon and Luther were friends, and Luther knew that part of Frank’s inviting him out tonight was just to make Sharon feel comfortable while he tried to get some drinks into her and then get himself into her.
    â€œHey, Luther,” said Sharon. She hugged him tightly, patting him on the back.
    She hugged Frank as well, but there was a world of difference in her manner. She seemed to like him but was made uncomfortable by his attraction to her, or perhaps it was the fact that he couldn’t hide his attraction. Luther found her alluring, as any man would, but he had instinct, and he turned his attraction off whenever she was around. It seemed foul to like Sharon. It was like dating your sister.
    They made small talk for a while, Sharon telling them about a drug cartel in Argentina that had met an untimely demise. Luther talked about a fire in Stockholm.
    Frank brought up the Homeland Security Act. The act was a joke, a political trick intended mostly to allow government agencies more power and money to do their jobs. E-1 had gotten a load of cash from the HSA, and so the agency would soon be upgraded in all areas.
    â€œSo, Luther,” Sharon began, “I’m sure you know this was not really a social call tonight.”
    Luther nodded, and Frank seemed to be taken off guard. Luther didn’t look at him as his face fell into a subtly quizzical look to cover the obvious truth Sharon was telling. It was good and would have fooled a layman, but to Luther it was just more evidence that Frank didn’t speak the language that he and Sharon Bane did.
    â€œWell, we really wanted to hang with you, Luth,” Frank