Page 11 of Lane

“Not a bad deal.”

“Not for me.” I smiled.

We made small talk the rest of the way to the location. It was easier than cracking my chest open.

I left my coat in the SUV when we exited in front of an old restored home near the edge of the city. The outside was stunningly done, to the point I felt transported back in time.

A man in slacks and a button-down opened the door for us and showed us to a room off the main entryway. Oleander carried a case, as did I. If I was going to be here, I might as well be helpful.

The room we were in had plush couches on either side with an ornate table in the middle. I sat the case by the couch closest to me, as my eyes were drawn to the painting on the opposite wall. It was the kind you’d find in a period movie where they liked to have grand portraits done with people in elegant clothes they couldn’t breathe in.

“Jordan, so nice to meet you in person,” a man said as he entered. His salt-and-pepper hair had an elegant swoop to it, keeping it out of his crystal-blue eyes. A sculpted jaw and a regal nose screamed good genes. Even if we weren’t standing in this room, I would have noticed him, especially given the way his arms tested the limits of the cashmere sweater he wore.

I had to pull myself together. I wasn’t here to find a hookup. Too bad because, damn, he was good-looking.

“Jack, thank you for agreeing to meet.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think anyone tells you no. This is a mutual meeting. I see you’ve brought samples for me to see.”

“Yes.”

Oleander picked up his case while I stood waiting to see the guns inside.

“Lane,” Jordan growled.

“Oh, right.” I grabbed the case from the floor and propped it on the couch before unlatching it. This was not the way to get Jordan to want to bring me along for a ride again. I couldn’t even remember to open a case.

“Hello,” Jack said to me, his hand trailing along the small of my back. No chills. No spark of anything except annoyance at his boldness. Too bad his hotness was wasted on me.

I turned and offered my hand, stepping away so he no longer touched me. “Lane. Nice to meet you.”

The smooth fucker he was lifted my hand and kissed the back of it. “You’re charming.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Let’s see what you’ve brought me.”

I stepped to the side so he could lift the gun from the case. Movement in my peripheral brought my eyes to Raiden, who appeared to be seconds away from strangling Jordan’s potential buyer. Well, well, well, someone didn’t like Jack touching me. Good to know.

Jack lifted a gun, inspected it, placed it back in the case, and moved to the other one on the table near Oleander. He examined that case too, before taking a seat on the couch near me. I quickly closed the case and moved it to the floor so he wasn’t squished to one side.

“They’re very nice,” Jack stated. “Have a seat, and let’s work out the numbers.”

Jordan sat opposite of him, with Raiden taking up a position on Jordan’s right, Oleander with the case on his left; neither man sat. There were two bodyguards Jack had with him who stood just outside the doorway. Arms relaxed, waiting to grab their guns. Legs braced as if they could block us from leaving as they stared each of us down. There was a lot of dick swinging in here, and not the kind I cared about.

While Jordan and Jack discussed the quantity of guns Jack would need, and what price Jordan was willing to sell them to him for, I fixated on the painting again. Seriously, who decorated this place? Or was it an homage to Jack’s family he couldn’t take down? It was a step back in time, while also having modern comfort like the couches and the contemporary vase in the corner.

“Do you like my painting?” I heard a bit later. I’d zoned out, so I was surprised his question broke through.

I turned to find Jack watching me. “It’s your family.”

“Yes. Generations ago. It used to hang in a castle in their home in England.”

“It’s very nice.”

“Mmm, unlike the deal Jordan’s trying to cut me.”

“I told you that was as low as I could go,” Jordan said, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs.

---