Chapter 3
1021 Words
Chapter Three
Orla sauntered into the long hall of the most luxurious restaurant in London. She was tall, slim, and exotic with a river of dark long hair that wrapped around her shoulders. Her siren red gown flattered her flawless body and dazzled people so that they wouldn’t notice her oversized handbag, in which she carried the merchandise.
Orla clenched her teeth when she saw Lorcan standing at the end of the hall, grinning at her.
“You said you’d let me handle this myself,” she growled.
Lorcan smiled. “Don’t pout. It really detracts from that stunning gown. I didn’t see you all day yesterday—I miss you. I’ll let you work with your client, thought. I’ll be sitting over there, keeping my mouth shut.” Lorcan pointed to a table.
“I’m not pouting. And if you keep interfering with my work, I’ll leave you.”
“You need me too much to leave me.” Lorcan smiled and leaned in for a kiss.
A wave of strong jasmine suddenly engulfed Orla. A faint gray mist swirled through the air, forming a funnel and thickening around Orla and Lorcan. She pushed at Lorcan’s chest to stop the kiss, puzzled. She didn’t like what she saw and smelt. It had been a long time since she’d experienced these sensations, and she didn’t care for them at all.
“Are you okay?” Lorcan asked, looking into her eyes.
“Yes, sure. I’m settling a job here. No messing around in public.” She scowled.
Lorcan grinned again. “We’ll mess around tonight in private then.” He nodded toward the entrance. “A minion of your client is here. Don’t take on any new jobs before we talk.” Lorcan walked toward his table.
Orla wanted to punch Lorcan in the face. But it wouldn’t be a good idea to do so in front of her client. She composed herself and turned around to see a tall man approaching her. He nodded at her. She cast a warning look at Lorcan, directing him to stay where he was, and walked toward the man.
“Mr. Turk?”
“Call me William, Orla.”
“I have a table reserved.” She smiled.
“Thank you.” William nodded.
Orla caught a slight accent in his voice, but she couldn’t quite make out its origin. It didn’t matter where they came from—as long as they paid her, she was happy. After they had settled at the table, Orla put the bag on the floor and pushed it toward the man. William placed an envelope on the table and pushed it toward her.
She opened the envelope, pulled out the cheque, glanced at it, and put it back into the envelope. She slid the envelope into her purse and smiled at William.
“Please send my regards to your employer, and tell him I appreciate his business. I suppose if he isn’t happy with the merchandise, I can’t cash the cheque.”
William smirked. “That’s the reason he keeps using you. You’re a smart cookie.”
“Technically, he’s using my services, not me. Prostitution is not my line of business.”
The man nodded. “Getting a prostitute is a lot cheaper than your services, Orla. Trust me, he values your services highly. As a matter of fact, he has a new assignment. If you pull this one off, you won’t need to work again for the rest of your life.”
Orla felt the urge to sneer at the statement, but thought better of it, so she maintained a neutral expression. She could try for a poker face, but she would never be able to pull it off. Acting was not her strong suit, and she knew it. “You have no idea how much money I’d need to settle for the rest of my life. Don’t speculate. Anyway, what’s the job?”
“It’s a prepaid ransom.”
Orla arched an eyebrow. “Too good to be true.”
William shook his head and chuckled. “You should hear me out first.”
Orla nodded and absently gestured the man to continue.
“A computer game designer was kidnapped from her New York apartment. The kidnapper used her to blackmail her best friend, a reputable journalist, for some information. The journalist will be in London tomorrow. Your job is to rescue the computer game designer at the deal settlement between the journalist and the kidnapper.”
Orla leaned back in her chair, narrowing her eyes at the man.
“I told my boss you wouldn’t take this assignment. You’re a thief. Rescuing is not exactly your expertise.”
Orla smiled. “I take your view on my expertise as a compliment, William. Indeed, stealing is what I do best. I can steal anything from anyone . . . if paid well enough. If I consider the computer game designer as a job, I can steal her from the kidnapper. If that qualifies as a rescue—and I save her life, so to speak—then I get to be a hero. That’s an added benefit.”
The man put on a crooked smile. “Being a hero doesn’t pay.”
“As I said, it’s an added benefit. What’s being exchanged for the ransom?”
“That information is beyond your pay scale, I’m afraid.”
“A thief like me has standards. I won’t kill and I won’t deal drugs.”
“I can guarantee you that. No drugs and no life endangerment.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to do the job yourself? It’s too boring for you, isn’t it, William?”
“You know, if you’d reign back your sarcasm a bit, you could be quite pleasant to talk to.”
“I don’t get paid to be pleasant. How much?”
“Two million.”
“That’s not enough for me to retire on, as you claimed before.”
“That’s the first installment.”
“Do the other installments come from other parts of the task?”
“Of course. But you have to agree on the first part before we move on to the next. You don’t have to do the other parts if you don’t want to. But as for the first part, if you commit, you have to go through with it.”
“I have to think about this.”
William stood up. “You have two hours to make a decision. There are others willing to do this. But as I said, my boss values you highly. He wants to give you the first opportunity.” He grabbed the merchandise, left some money on the table for the drink, and strode toward the entrance.
Orla turned around and saw that Lorcan was no longer at his table.
- Writer
