The Killing League - By Dani Amore Page 0,32

you been training?” she asked.

He took a pull from his Corona. Nicole watched the lime float back to the surface. “A couple years,” he said. “I did aikido for a long time. Almost ten years.”

“Why the switch?” she asked.

He gave a little shrug and she thought he looked a little nervous.

“Something new,” he said. “I like that Pekiti Tirsia uses edged weapons. Most of the time, you don’t get attacked by guys with long bamboo sticks.”

No, Nicole thought, most of the time that’s not how it works when you’re attacked. A little shiver ran down her back and she was always surprised at how close to the surface her memories were. Any mention of attack still triggered a reaction deep down in her gut.

“Yeah,” she said. “Not a lot of gangbangers and crack addicts walking around with Malaysian fighting sticks.”

Kurt smiled. Nicole liked his easy grin. He didn’t have perfect teeth, but they were good, and his face creased into something warm and friendly.

“How about you?” he asked.

She felt a small flutter of apprehension. It used to be much more than a flutter. At times it had practically felt like a flock of Canadian geese taking off inside her, whenever someone new started to ask about her past. It was her own nervous reaction, wondering when, where and how she would tell them she was once famous for, well, something no one wanted to be famous for.

Of course, the guys at class knew about her past, and they might have told Kurt, but Nicole guessed that he didn’t know.

“A couple of years,” she said. “I love it. From day one, I’ve loved it. The movements, the strategy, applying strength in a strategic way. It really is an art form.”

Nicole took a drink of her beer. It felt great after the sweaty air of the fighting studio.

“So what do you do for a living?” Kurt asked.

“I run a restaurant,” Nicole said.

“Really? What’s the name?” he said.

“Thicque, spelled with a q-u-e, instead of a k.”

“What kind of food do you serve?”

“California nouveau. A little bit of whatever I feel like,” Nicole said.

“I’d like to go sometime,” Kurt said.

“You should. Stop by, I’ll take good care of you,” she said.

Kurt looked at her and smiled.

Nicole felt her face flush. That wasn’t what she’d meant to say, it had come out wrong.

But from the look on Kurt’s face, he didn’t mind.

40.

Family Man

Brent Tucker was dressed in a neat but worn blue suit with a white shirt and conservative red tie. He carried his leather briefcase in his right hand, and a leather folder carrying a legal size notepad and two pens in his left hand.

His wallet, with his driver’s license and credit cards was in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. A thick packet of family pictures was in the breast pocket of his shirt. It bulged because the pictures of his wife and children were plentiful.

He’d been to these types of conferences before. Not a lot of them but enough to know that frequently businessmen showed off pictures of their families back home to convince everyone what good family men they all were. And to maybe fool people into believing they weren’t going to go out that night, get drunk and find a hooker or a strip club.

A good, loving family is such a wonderful disguise. Everyone knew that.

Tucker walked into the lobby of the Holiday Inn, bypassed the front desk and walked directly to the conference room behind the KL placard.

Without hesitation, he walked to the row of chairs in front of the television screen and sat down. He paid no attention to the others. He was here to find out his assignment, and perform whatever damage control he would need.

Tucker put his briefcase on the floor between his legs, and opened his leather memo pad. He took out one pen, clicked it, and wrote at the top of the first sheet “KL meeting.”

He adjusted his tie and waited, staring straight ahead. He still didn’t even so much as glance at the other people in the room. This was going to be just like all of the computer product information he was so adroit at reformatting and consolidating into one logical flow.

He would take in the necessary information, analyze it, reroute it, and then take the necessary steps to make it a smooth, logical plan.

He would then execute that plan without varying one iota from his strategy. It would be thorough, flawless and a smashing success.

And then he would kill the