Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
“I don’t and will never want anyone but you, Mirage. Know that, and don’t ever ask that question again.”
Mirage appeared to have hit a nerve.
When Grace spoke in that raw, heated bass, Mirage was reminded of the cold brutality lurking in Grace’s soul.
The quiet between them was intense after such a strong statement…or was it a demand.
The maître d’ had their plates removed, then set a dessert plate in front of Mirage and a Kopi espresso for Grace.
The attentive server didn’t ask how the meal was or if they’d enjoyed the experience.
One, because it wasn’t required. It’d been prepared by a Michelin-star chef. Of course they’d enjoyed it.
And two, the staff understood that Mirage didn’t desire to hear any of them speak.
Grace’s silence was all he wanted to hear.
Grace
Grace hated that Mirage had come to that conclusion—that he wanted Meridian instead of him—after working one night with the Black Ravens.
His partner deserved to know the truth, whether it backfired on him or not.
Mirage was looking at him with those intelligent, hunter-shaped eyes. Ones that never failed to see straight through him. And Grace didn’t mind.
He was glad Mirage could understand the things he couldn’t or wouldn’t say aloud.
“Tell me what changed on February fourteenth.”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” Mirage challenged, his eyes taking on the color of slate.
Grace swallowed his unease. “Don’t be angry.”
“That’s a useless-ass emotion, Grace.” Mirage glowered.
A strange sensation tightened Grace’s chest. What did Mirage feel then?
“You’ve mastered the art of indifference, Mirage.”
Grace watched his partner for a long time. Too damn long, knowing he had nothing.
When he didn’t say anything, Mirage went back to eating his crème brûlée.
He moaned at the final bite, slowly sliding the fork from between his lips, making Grace’s heartbeat hammer in his ears.
Grace pictured Meridian again. How he’d licked his way into his partner’s mouth.
Grace wanted to try that, too, except with his own partner.
Grace didn’t remember how it felt to be kissed. Hell, he probably no longer knew how to do it. He’d had orgasms but no romance.
Unable to sit there any longer, struggling to breathe, Grace removed his wallet from his back pocket.
“Ready to go so soon? You don’t want another cup of coffee?” Mirage asked. “It’s your favorite.”
Grace shook his head and placed eight hundred-dollar bills on the table.
He stood, his muscles coiled as tight as a spring ready to snap, and pulled his trench off the coatrack beside the table.
Grace’s mind felt out-of-focus and staticky, like those old televisions with rabbit ears and aluminum foil on the tips.
“Let’s take a walk… You look like you need some air.”
Mirage threw him a soft wink that made Grace’s cock jerk for the first time in forever, then closed in behind him and whispered, “Let’s go, Grace.”
Mirage
Mirage almost felt sorry for Grace.
There was something heavy on his mind, and it seemed to have a lot to do with the two of them…not Meridian.
The Black Raven was an impressive, virile younger man with a sexy midnight aura hovering over his head like a storm cloud.
A force of atmosphere affecting anyone in his vicinity.
Mirage was more than grateful it hadn’t consumed his partner. If Grace said he didn’t want Meridian, he believed him. His partner was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar.
If Grace was feeling an inkling of what Mirage was, of what he had been for years, then this would be resolved tonight.
Once inside the blacked-out truck, he locked gazes with Grace and asked Driver, “Take us to Whispering Pines Park.”
“Yes, sir.”
Their transporter was known only as Driver. It was the name given to him by the agency.
Mirage knew he was a retired CIA spy with principles and confidentiality ingrained in him. Those were all the details they were given.
Traffic in the city was terrible. When they were three blocks from the park, he and Grace decided to walk the rest of the way.
There weren’t many pedestrians around this time of night. All the date hunters and barhoppers had already ventured downtown.
They walked arm in arm at a moderate pace with their hoods on, heads bowed, and their collars pulled up to their jaws.
In the day of such modern technology and surveillance on every street corner, it was impossible not to be seen, but it was possible to be unrecognizable.
Grace appeared more relaxed, and Mirage noticed the rise and fall of his broad chest while he breathed in the cool air.
Nestled in their comfortable silence, they approached an alley with the sounds of a scuffle filtering out onto the sidewalk.
Once they reached the entrance, the narrow pathway was too dark to see faces, but the silhouette of four men plus their victim was clear.
Slurred voices demanding payment of whatever debt was owed were followed by the sound of fists meeting flesh before grunts and moans of pain.
Grace stopped, his head still down, his jaw twitching.