Pyro

Chapter 19

The drizzling had become full-scale rain. The deluge battered the windows ruthlessly, and I was grateful to be inside, ready to meet Proditio.

In preparation for the meeting, I'd worn, what Kaz deemed to be, the spy-suit. The lofty suit rigged with the wire and camera was, surprisingly, not uncomfortable. But I wouldn't go so far as to say comfortable. At least everyone could listen in. Only Wais, Miranda, and Parker could watch through the camera, however, because Kaz and Zoe were inside the restaurant, backing me up.

I approached the hostess and checked in under Proditio's reservation. The friendly woman led me to our designated table. It was smack dab in the center of the restaurant, with other nearby tables seated with couples and multiple party members laughing close by. A pretty public spot for what I imagined would be a private conversation. Despite that, the position of the table gave me an advantage, as it left me in Kaz and Zoe's line of sight.

Kaz was positioned near the back of the restaurant in the form of the patron he'd incapacitated, carving away at a massive steak he'd ordered.

Because apparently capturing a serial kidnapper and murderer could really strike the appetite.

Idiot.

At least I didn't have to rely solely on him. Zoe was also in the restaurant, sipping a drink by the bar. She definitely wasn't twenty-one-maybe eighteen or nineteen-which led me to wonder how exactly she wound up perched on a stool beside the bar, swirling a drink in a glass and teasing the young bartender on his atrocious tie, but then I realized: the bartender's eyes traveled the length of her body and practically ravished her. Despite a brown-colored wig that concealed her hair and brown contacts that masked her stormy eyes (her attempt of masking her identity from Proditio), she was still, as Quinn would say, sexy. It didn't help that she wore a taut dress that clung to her body in all the right places; it also stopped just below what most people considered scandalous.

No wonder he didn't bother to check her age.

I smirked in my seat. As if he stands a chance, I thought. She's way out of his league. I would've laughed, but that'd draw unnecessary attention.

I turned my focus back to Zoe. To my surprise, she didn't seem to mind the leering. Probably because it helped her remain by the bar, where she had a clear view of the restaurant entrance and of our table.

Hey, she just entered the hotel. Be on your guard, Wais warned telepathically.

My heart thundered in my ears. Proditio actually showed up.

The seconds slugged by, laggard, agonizing, almost tortuous. My hearing buzzed. My heart pounded like a drumbeat. My vision sharpened and practically pulsed, and my breathing was hitched in anticipation.

The moment my eyes landed on her, everything stopped.

My eyes registered her in pieces: a gold dress, with sequins adorning the bodice and a plunging neckline: caramel skin, like velvet: loose black hair that stretched below her hips: insidious golden eyes, not unlike revered jewels: and a level spine and confident stride. She was radiant.

A friendly smile on her lips, she briskly sauntered to the star-struck hostess. I would've been star-struck too, if I didn't know the vindictive monster that swelled beneath her unassuming exterior. Using wide gestures, Proditio's animated movements led her to point at me- the other person listed under her reservation.

My heart squeezed, as if someone's icy hand were clutching it. My gaze locked solely on Proditio; as the hostess escorted her to my table, I straightened in my seat.

Proditio smiled warmly at the hostess and, when she left, turned to me. "Hello, Henry Jacobs." She sat in her seat and precariously placed a black handbag off to the side.