Page 1 of ELITE Justice
CHAPTER1
Jonathan O’Neil openedthe door to Up In Smoke. Steam wafted into the busy Dallas street. He was immediately saturated with the smell of fried onions, hamburgers, and, of course, bar-b-que. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he savored each scent, and…was that apple pie?
“Why, thank you, son.” An elderly lady smiled up at him as she used the metal bar across the door to steady her shaky steps. “Don’t you just love this place? Best country fried steak in Texas.”
“I’ll bet it is, ma’am.” Jonathan couldn’t help but smile back at her and her friend as he held the door for them.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before.” The second woman’s brown, penciled-on eyebrows nearly reached her white, perfectly coiffed hair.
“Yes, ma’am, first time,” Jonathan admitted. Give a man a chance. He’d only been in the city twenty hours, most of which had been spent settling into his hotel room and temporary office at Guardian Security, Inc. He’d never considered leaving Miami before…before that night. More accurately, the next morning.
“He’s a virgin.” The first woman elbowed the second and giggled.
The accusation derailed Jonathan’s train of thought. Miami was in his past, and everything that had happened there was going to stay there.
What the hell? Virgin?Not by a long shot. But he wasn’t going to tell these septuagenarians—who reminded him way too much of his interfering Irish grandmother—that he’d lost his virginity as a late sixteenth birthday gift from Sally Ann Crossville, the girl he’d been dating at the time. She hadn’t lost hers that night but taught him a lot over the next few weeks before dumping him for the star of the soccer team.
“Gladys, he might be a Texasculinaryvirgin, but with that body, he’s been screwing around for years.” The second woman pushed the first the remaining way through the door.
Gladys stopped two feet away from Jonathan and eyed him from the top of his Guardian ball cap, over the light gray company polo shirt, down the mandatory black cargo pants to the military-style boots. Maybe if he’d worn the new cowboy boots his former staff had given him as a going-away gift, he’d look more Texan. But he was technically on duty and in the uniform of the day.
“What do you think, Viola?” Gladys sidled toward her friend. “Bet we could teach this young buck a few things.” Bright sunlight caught the purple streak of hair that ran over Gladys’ ear.
What the hell? Aren’t these two a hoot?
“I just read that Cosmo article online on how to give a great blow job.” Viola smiled up at Jonathan with the whitest set of dentures he’d ever seen. Her faded blue eyes sparkled.
Gladys petted his bicep. “Bet you work out.”
Jonathan stared at the boney hand that squeezed his arm with greater strength than he’d imagine possible from such a small, frail-looking woman.
“Can we come watch you work out?” Viola asked with complete seriousness.
“Do you take your shirt off when you pump iron?” Gladys emphasized the last two words.
Not wanting this encounter to go any further, fearing they might ask him the length of his dick next, he smiled, hoping to extricate himself gracefully. “If you’ll excuse me, ladies.” He tipped his head and couldn’t hold in the grin. “Although this has been an interesting conversation, I really do need to get inside. I’m meeting someone and it wouldn’t look good on me to be late.”
Viola lightly smacked Gladys’s hand away from Jonathan’s arm. “Come on. We want a good spot on the bus bench across from that boxing gym with the big windows. The men should be good and sweaty by now.”
Gladys dug in her gigantic purple purse. “Damn it all. I can’t find my gun.”
“Don’t worry. I have mine.” Viola hauled a 1911 Colt from the depths of the big red bag hanging on her shoulder. “I got us covered.” She took a good solid shooting stance and pointed the gun down the thankfully empty sidewalk.
“Whoa, ladies.” Jonathan grabbed the gun from Viola’s hand and checked the slide. Sure enough, there was one in the chamber. Thank God the safety was on. “Do you—”
Viola reached for her gun back, but Jonathan held it up in the air, out of her reach. “Of course, I have a permit to carry. My Charlie, God rest his soul, was a Texas Ranger. And I know how to use that sucker.”
Jonathan ejected the magazine and the chambered bullet before handing the separated pieces back to Viola. “Please be careful with that.”
Expertly, the older woman restacked the bullet in the magazine, popped it back into the gun, and flicked the safety on.
Gladys stepped so close he could smell her faded, old-lady perfume mixed with the restaurant smells that had saturated her clothes. “Welcome to Texas, young man.” Her soft hand patted his cheek. “You’ll learn.” She turned to her friend. “Come on, Viola. I don’t want to miss those executive types stepping out onto the street, all fresh from their shower. Reminds me of my younger days.” With a glance over her shoulder at Jonathan, she told him, “I used to be a looker, you know.”
“I’ll bet you were.” He could see the beauty she’d once been.
Finally stepping into the restaurant, he wanted to thrust his fist into the air. He smelled baking apple pie. Glancing around the packed ’50s-style diner as he removed his hat, he caught site of his new boss sitting at a table in the back with a view of everything and everyone. Their eyes met. A lift of Quinlan Barrister’s chin was Jonathan’s invitation.
He wove his way through the scattered tables, some of which had been shoved together to accommodate larger groups, others had couples chatting intimately. All the food looked amazing. He took the indicated seat across from Quin, hating that his back was against the crowded restaurant.
