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)
“Let’s go eat?” he suggested.
Grace opened his eyes, glanced over his shoulder, and gave Mirage an expectant look.
“Yep, we can go to Terrapas.”
Mirage urged Grace to move his heavy body off him so he could get up. Instead of getting out of the tub, Grace turned over and nestled closer, nudging his bristly jaw against his like a needy feline.
Mirage smirked. “You’re a real sap to be one of the world’s greatest killers.”
Grace looked him in his eyes with all seriousness, and Mirage’s smile began to fade.
“Say it,” he whispered.
Grace caressed Mirage’s cheek. “I love you, Matthew.”
If he were capable of crying, the waterworks would be all the way turned on.
When Mirage opened his mouth to speak, his voice trembled. He held Grace so tight he could feel his erratic heartbeat banging in his chest like a Japanese drum.
He cupped Grace’s chin and said with all of his heart.
“I love you too, Grayson.”
Grace’s sensitive hum was melodious, tender, and rich. It was the first time Mirage had spoken Grace’s real name. He’d found it when he was pulling all the Ravens’ records.
Mirage stayed enveloped in the magic of the moment until Grace’s stomach roared like a fucking bear.
Mirage pecked him on his lips.
“Come on, sexy…let’s get ready.”
Ready for fine dining meant donning their nicer field attire, light hoods, and only a couple of concealed weapons.
Grace
Grace liked what he saw on tonight’s menu. It’d been a while since he’d had lamb.
“Looks like a nice spread, huh?”
Grace licked his lips. The menu wasn’t the only thing that looked delicious tonight.
“You keep looking at me like that and we won’t make it to the appetizers,” Mirage murmured, still staring at his menu.
Grace still didn’t smile on the outside, but his inside beamed with joy.
Their usual waiter approached their table, following the same protocol as always, and filled their wine glasses in silence.
Once he left, he and Mirage exchanged knowing glances, their fingers brushing after they finished the amuse-bouche.
Their intimate corner behind a dark curtain at Terrapas was the one place in the world—outside their apartments—where they could just be Grayson and Matthew.
Mirage stared into Grace’s eyes, most likely reading his every thought.
Mirage was stunning tonight in his pecan-colored pullover with the lightweight hood covering his tousled hair. The color was striking against his ivory skin.
Grace could always see Mirage’s eyes through his hood, but this one was so thin the overhead ambient lighting made the gray in his blue-gray irises glisten.
Grace couldn’t resist another second. He leaned over, and instinctively, Mirage met him halfway.
They kissed gently, slowly, cherishing this calm before the storm.
The mission loomed like a dark cloud, but this evening, in their corner, they were cocooned in light and intimacy. Their love for each other was strong enough to transform the darkness dominating their lives into something comforting.
Grace was so full by the sixth course that he skipped the crème brûlée and opted for coffee so he could chill and watch Mirage lick the sugar off his fork.
When the waiter returned to refill Mirage’s glass of dessert wine, a feeling of dangerous energy rolled down Grace’s back.
It wasn’t their regular server.
This guy was handsome. His eyes were a startling green, and his skin was the color of sun-warmed honey with rich caramel undertones.
He didn’t wear a polite waiter’s smile. Rather, his cut jaw was clenched tight, and subtle freckles sprinkled his cheeks.
The new server wore a crisp white shirt and brown instead of black slacks. He approached cautiously, his rich moss-colored eyes fixed on Grace.
It was Zelmir Benton.
Their mark lurking right there in plain sight.
Neither he nor Mirage made a move as they watched Zelmir lean in to fill Mirage’s glass before he slipped a folded note onto the edge of the table.
He turned and disappeared back into the kitchen as Mirage took the note and read the four words scribbled inside.
Whispering Pines Park. Now.
Mirage crumpled the note and shoved it into his pocket.
Grace dropped ten one-hundred-dollar bills on the table, got in front of Mirage, and the two of them left out the side door.
“This is who we think it is, yes?” Mirage whispered, his warm breath brushing the back of his neck.
“I’m sure of it,” Grace answered. “The Greens came to us. Locate Ex and Meridian”
Mirage
Mirage and Grace walked through the familiar gates of Whispering Pines Park.
They walked single file on the narrow path, past the bench and small lake half-covered with large lily pads.
Zelmir was several yards in front of them, walking at a brisk pace as he led them farther into the towering pine and birch trees.
He now wore an olive-green hoodie that swallowed his taut frame and brown khakis.
After a few more minutes of follow the leader, a wide clearing opened, and Zelmir disappeared behind the thick base of a centuries-old oak tree. It was the last they saw of him.