Read Online The Seven: A Taste for Jazz: Book 3 of The Seven series by Ciana Stone - Free Book Online
Authors: Ciana Stone
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turned him. Now, as a Vampire there was little he feared. Despite the exultation being a Vampire gave him, aside from Asha no one knew. Mindleton kept his secrets just that. Secrets.
His habit had proven valuable after the fiasco at Asha's estate in the Hamptons. Preternaturals were under constant surveillance now. All he'd worked for could have been threatened by the knowledge he was one of them.
No, he wasn't about to reveal that secret.
"You're late." He looked up at Barnette.
"I'm here." Barnette shrugged.
Fred slid a thumb drive across the desk. "Got a job for you."
Barnette picked up the drive and stuffed it into the pocket of his leather vest. "Give me the lowdown." He lowered himself to a chair in front of the desk.
"It's on the drive."
"You know me, boss," Barnette said with a rare grin that was almost more frightening than his stoic countenance as it didn't reach his eyes. "I like a Reader's Digest condensed version to whet my appetite."
Fred allowed himself a chuckle. "Very well. Rockwell Conner Burns. He has something I want and is reluctant to part with it."
"You want him dead or just compliant?"
"Compliant."
"Any existing complications I should know of?"
"Not that I am aware. He owns a gym with an ex-fighter, Ed Nash—"
"No shit?" Barnette cut in. "He still alive? I remember watching him fight when I was a kid. Man had fists like pile drivers."
"Yes, he lives. And operates a gym in Kissimmee, Florida. Where Burns is masquerading as a trainer."
"You want something from a muscle head?"
"As you will read on the drive, Burns is as much of an enigma as yourself. He holds a number of patents that are generating millions of dollars annually."
"And something that could generate more."
"Exactly."
"So, this Burns. He's a fighter?"
"Yes."
"He pack heat?"
"No. There are no weapons registered in his name."
"He have a posse? A gang?"
"From what we have learned, he has few friends, is something of a womanizer, and spends most of his time either at the gym or at home."
"So, this gym. Busy place? Lots of trainers?"
"Aside from Burns, only one. A recent addition. A woman. Jasmine Boudreaux."
"Jazz?" Barnette's eyebrows rose.
"You're familiar with this woman?"
"Let's just say that our paths have crossed a time or two." Barnette fingered the scar on his forehead as he answered. "What's she doing working there? She's a bounty hunter."
"And bodyguard, it seems."
Barnette grunted. "Yeah, on rare occasions."
"Will this woman be a problem?"
"Hell no." Barnette heaved himself out of the chair. "In fact, having her there makes it even more appealing. She and I have an old score to settle."
"Just make sure you don't allow personal matters to interfere with the job."
"When have I ever?"
Mindleton didn't reply and Barnette turned away, stopping when he reached the door. "Be in touch, boss."
After he'd gone, Mindleton picked up the phone. "I want a detailed dossier on Jasmine Boudreaux."
He hadn't considered the woman to be a significant factor, but if she and Barnette had crossed paths before and if, as he suspected by Barnette's actions, she was responsible for the scar, then he wanted to know more about her so he could access any potential threats she might pose to the operation.
Barnette climbed onto his motorcycle and revved the engine. Fate had just handed him an opportunity he'd been waiting on for three long years. As he pulled out into traffic, he let his mind take him back.
He'd been tracking a bail jumper for three weeks, the hunt taking him from LA to South Carolina before the prey had gone to ground in a small wooden house in Lancaster with a worn-out prostitute-turned-waitress and her two kids.
Barnette had set up surveillance, getting to know the routine of everyone in the house. Once he had the schedule down pat, he made plans to make his move. On Wednesdays the woman worked the late shift at a local bar. The kids spent the night with their grandmother, leaving the bail jumper
His habit had proven valuable after the fiasco at Asha's estate in the Hamptons. Preternaturals were under constant surveillance now. All he'd worked for could have been threatened by the knowledge he was one of them.
No, he wasn't about to reveal that secret.
"You're late." He looked up at Barnette.
"I'm here." Barnette shrugged.
Fred slid a thumb drive across the desk. "Got a job for you."
Barnette picked up the drive and stuffed it into the pocket of his leather vest. "Give me the lowdown." He lowered himself to a chair in front of the desk.
"It's on the drive."
"You know me, boss," Barnette said with a rare grin that was almost more frightening than his stoic countenance as it didn't reach his eyes. "I like a Reader's Digest condensed version to whet my appetite."
Fred allowed himself a chuckle. "Very well. Rockwell Conner Burns. He has something I want and is reluctant to part with it."
"You want him dead or just compliant?"
"Compliant."
"Any existing complications I should know of?"
"Not that I am aware. He owns a gym with an ex-fighter, Ed Nash—"
"No shit?" Barnette cut in. "He still alive? I remember watching him fight when I was a kid. Man had fists like pile drivers."
"Yes, he lives. And operates a gym in Kissimmee, Florida. Where Burns is masquerading as a trainer."
"You want something from a muscle head?"
"As you will read on the drive, Burns is as much of an enigma as yourself. He holds a number of patents that are generating millions of dollars annually."
"And something that could generate more."
"Exactly."
"So, this Burns. He's a fighter?"
"Yes."
"He pack heat?"
"No. There are no weapons registered in his name."
"He have a posse? A gang?"
"From what we have learned, he has few friends, is something of a womanizer, and spends most of his time either at the gym or at home."
"So, this gym. Busy place? Lots of trainers?"
"Aside from Burns, only one. A recent addition. A woman. Jasmine Boudreaux."
"Jazz?" Barnette's eyebrows rose.
"You're familiar with this woman?"
"Let's just say that our paths have crossed a time or two." Barnette fingered the scar on his forehead as he answered. "What's she doing working there? She's a bounty hunter."
"And bodyguard, it seems."
Barnette grunted. "Yeah, on rare occasions."
"Will this woman be a problem?"
"Hell no." Barnette heaved himself out of the chair. "In fact, having her there makes it even more appealing. She and I have an old score to settle."
"Just make sure you don't allow personal matters to interfere with the job."
"When have I ever?"
Mindleton didn't reply and Barnette turned away, stopping when he reached the door. "Be in touch, boss."
After he'd gone, Mindleton picked up the phone. "I want a detailed dossier on Jasmine Boudreaux."
He hadn't considered the woman to be a significant factor, but if she and Barnette had crossed paths before and if, as he suspected by Barnette's actions, she was responsible for the scar, then he wanted to know more about her so he could access any potential threats she might pose to the operation.
Barnette climbed onto his motorcycle and revved the engine. Fate had just handed him an opportunity he'd been waiting on for three long years. As he pulled out into traffic, he let his mind take him back.
He'd been tracking a bail jumper for three weeks, the hunt taking him from LA to South Carolina before the prey had gone to ground in a small wooden house in Lancaster with a worn-out prostitute-turned-waitress and her two kids.
Barnette had set up surveillance, getting to know the routine of everyone in the house. Once he had the schedule down pat, he made plans to make his move. On Wednesdays the woman worked the late shift at a local bar. The kids spent the night with their grandmother, leaving the bail jumper
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