Jiang Wanyin jumped out of the car, impatient, the very moment the car pulled to a stop. He didn't even care to turn around and see whether Brent was following suit.
He knew that the front door would not be locked, now that Lan Huan was home for the day. He just barged in, bag in hand, hoping to god that the annoying Mexican woman would be gone by now. It was already dark outside after all!
***
They journeyed home in absolute silence, and it was indeed absolute, as the road was smooth and the terrain was flat, and the car purred, a barely audible sound that brought genuine pleasure to the driver.
This was a true luxury car.
Why was the boss driving that ridiculous Porsche?
Brent did not care.
Quite amused, his peripheral vision caught the way Mister Jiang was desperately hugging the bulky bag, despite the fact that the spacious back of the car was absolutely and openly available. He smirked internally: he knew quite well what the bag contained, although there was absolutely no logo printed on the plain brown paper bag.
He did not comment, it wasn't his job at all. But he vaguely wondered whether he was probably in for a noisy night of love-making.
Well, it was part of the job. 2 million was totally worth it.
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Tactful enough, he preferred to stay out of it, for now, and rather take care of the car, checking the tyres and bringing it in into the garage now, not in a hurry. He lazily considered the fact that he hadn't had lunch today yet, not really, but it was not a big problem. Today had been a really fruitful day; he had learned quite a lot, and his list of to-do tasks had gotten a little longer.
Better clothes.
The tracking device.
Checking backgrounds on Mike Flannegan and Mister Lan's brother.
Yes.
Also, profiles on the usual suspects on Mister Jiang's side. Johnny Wu. Jiang Yanli. Jin Zixuan.
