Noble Intentions: Season Three Read Online Free Page B

pants and white
button-up shirt heading toward him.
    “Well?” the guy said.
    “Looking for my brother,” Jack
said.
    “Well you’re scaring the piss outta
my customers. So either come inside and have a drink and a bite to eat, or beat
it.” He tossed his thumb over his shoulder.
    Jack placed his hands on the window
and pressed his face to the glass. The man in the suit rose from his barstool
and walked toward the back of the restaurant.
    “I’m going in,” Jack said. He
pushed past the portly man and pulled the door open. “Where’s your restroom?”
    “Loo’s in the back.”
    Jack moved cautiously through the
restaurant, concerned that the guy in the suit might not be the only person in
the place looking for him. The restaurant could have been a designated spot to
meet should things fall through.
    Glances were cast his way. None
lingered. They almost immediately returned to their plates or their drinks or
their lunch mates.
    It took Jack less than ten seconds
to cross the length of the room. He entered a dimly lit corridor, stopped in
front of the men’s room door, pushed it open. Warm light flooded the hall,
carrying with it the floral smell of chemical air freshener.
    Jack stepped in, unarmed, cautious.
    The guy in the suit stood in front
of a urinal, his back to Jack.
    Jack stopped.
    “Help you with something?” the guy
said in a British accent.
    Jack said nothing, took a quiet
step forward.
    “I’d caution you not to go any
further. I’m armed.”
    Jack ignored the warning, took
another two steps, reassured by the belief that the man would conclude the task
at hand. Only then would the guy reach for his gun and turn around. In that
time span, Jack could close the distance and neutralize the guy.
    He was wrong.
    The man in the suit whipped around
in a half-circle, pistol drawn, grin on his face.
    “Hello, Jack.”
     

CHAPTER 5
    Jack stood four feet away from the
man in the dark suit. His heart raced. His muscles tensed. His stomach was in
his throat. The guy had his pistol out, but his aim was off and he was
unbalanced. The guy’s position opened up a window of opportunity for attack,
albeit a small one. Jack did not hesitate. Years of training and finely tuned
instincts took over. He turned to the side, lunged forward. His right arm
neutralized the threat of the gun. His left fist neutralized the threat of the
man.
    In two seconds the fight was over.
    Jack retrieved the pistol. He
leaned over the man, slapped the guy across the face. When the guy didn’t come
to, he slapped him again.
    The man groaned. His eyelids
fluttered open, eyes focused on the bright lights behind Jack’s head, then rolled
back, replaced by bloodshot whites.
    “Who are you?” Jack said.
    The guy moaned, refocused his eyes,
said nothing.
    “Answer me,” Jack demanded.
    The man cleared his throat.
“Slater. Leon Slater.”
    “What do you want with me, Leon?
Why were you waiting for me in the hotel?”
    Leon shook his head.
    “That was you at the airport,
wasn’t it?”
    Leon nodded.
    “Why?” Jack said. “No one knows I’m
in England.”
    “You’re wrong.” Leon scooted back
and propped himself up on his elbows. His head lingered below the base of a
stained urinal.
    Jack rose, offered his hand to
Leon, helped the man to his feet. “How’s that?”
    “You traveled over here under your
own bloody name. You don’t think the moment they scanned your passport every
damn agency in the U.K. became aware of your presence?”
    The point was a good one and gave
Jack reason to pause. Of course he had been worried about it, but his name had
been cleared. He wasn’t wanted in the U.K. for anything. And he figured if
something was going to happen, it would have been at customs, and a quick call
to Frank would have fixed it.
    “I’m retired,” Jack said. “Hadn’t
really thought about it. How’d you get to the airport so fast if they’d only
recently flagged me?”
    “We knew your flight plans. Dottie
insisted I