Noble Intentions: Season Three Read Online Free Page A

The clerk shifted his stare
from the man in the custom suit to Jack. The guy in the suit started to look
over his shoulder. The guy didn’t move. He wasn’t speaking to Jack. He’d
been asking about him.
    Jack diverted his eyes forward,
placed his hand on the door, heard the guy say, “Who was that?”
    Jack assumed the man was referring
to him. He didn’t wait to hear the clerk’s response. His feet hit the sidewalk
and he turned right, crossed the street diagonally and pushed through the first
door he came to. As he stepped inside, a burst of warm air barreled down on
him. The beads of sweat on his forehead evaporated. He didn’t take the time to
assess his surroundings. Instead, he turned, took two steps to his right and
positioned himself behind a sequined covered mannequin next to the tinted
glass.
    “Can I help you?” The voice was
female, British, cold.
    Jack shifted his gaze to the left.
He saw the woman’s reflection hovering in the window. She was thin and
middle-aged and beyond that he didn’t care. He noticed that she was standing
next to a rack of evening gowns. His eyes darted left and right. The place was
a designer women’s clothing shop. That explained the overbearing smell of
perfume.
    “I said, can I help you ?”
She arched an eyebrow.
    “I’ll be out of your way in a
moment,” Jack said.
    “If you aren’t going to buy
something, please leave,” the woman said.
    Jack glanced back at her to drive
his earlier response home. She flinched at his glare. He spun his head around
in time to see the hotel lobby door opening. The man in the suit stepped
outside, looked left, then right, turned in the direction of the latter, stayed
on the other side of the street. The man’s eyes moved methodically, square by
square.
    Jack cursed under his breath. He
was dealing with a professional. He took two steps back, hoped that would
reduce the chance of him being seen from the outside.
    “It’s tinted and mirrored,” the
woman said. “He can’t see you.”
    “That’s gotta be a bitch for window
shoppers,” Jack said.
    She forced a rhetorical laugh. “I
don’t want them. They dirty up my shop. Serious buyers only. Which you obviously
are not. So as soon as your little friend is out of sight, get out of my
place.”
    British hospitality .
    “Yes, ma’am.” A moment later he
added, “Any chance you have a back door?”
    “No.” She aimed a pale thin finger
toward the front door.
    Jack waited until the man in the
suit passed by, then he left the store. Cool spring air, a mixture of cherry
blossom and exhaust, greeted him once again. The remaining dampness on his
forehead grew cold. He paced the guy across the street, staying far enough back
that he could get away should a chase ensue.
    The man stopped in front of a place
called Libby’s, went inside. From where Jack stood, there looked to be a menu
taped to the outside of the window next to the front door. Jack waited a
minute, then crossed the street and continued toward the restaurant. He stopped
when he reached the corner. The smell of wood smoke enveloped the building.
Jack cupped his hands to his face and pressed against the glass.
    Four people dining at a table next
to the window flinched when they noticed him peering in at them. They stared
up, mouths agape, eyes narrowed.
    Jack shrugged, offered a
half-smile, returned to scanning the room. Where had the guy gone? The place
was dimly lit. It offered some sense of privacy despite the wide open layout of
the place. Rows of tables with nothing separating them from one another. He
spotted the man, twenty feet in front of him, seated at the bar. The guy seemed
confident. He wasn’t constantly checking over his shoulders or looking around
the room. He laid in wait, looking helpless and limp. The same way some of the
most lethal predators on the planet act.
    “What the bloody hell are you
doing?”
    Jack jerked back, whipped his head
to the left. He’d dismissed the portly man in the black