Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught Read Online Free PDF

have had number-one hits all over Europe, and last week I was number three here on the U.K. chart.”
    Budd took a gulp of his champagne. “As far as I’m concerned, pop music died after the Eighties. I haven’t listened since.”
    “You really do not recognize me?”
    “Nope.”
    “That is good. So, what do you do, Monsieur Ashby?”
    “Me? Nothing fancy. I’m a pilot.”
    As Budd spoke, two waiters arrived, one carrying his bowl of tomato soup, the other carrying Juliette’s mushroom escalope. With graceful movements, the plates were laid and the waiters left. Budd took up his spoon, lowered his head towards the bowl and then started to shovel the burning liquid into his mouth, slurping loudly in an effort to cool it. He was halfway down the bowl when a voice made him look up.
    “Jules, what the hell is going on? Who is this tramp?”
    Beside the table was the young man from the elevator. Of his two female companions, there was no sign. Although his question had been addressed to Juliette, his head was positioned in such a way that his sunglasses appeared to be looking right down at Budd.
    “He was keeping me company while you were away, Jack. There is no need to get angry. He agreed to leave when you arrived. Why are you so late?”
    Budd kept quiet and concentrated on finishing the soup, although he studied the young man from the corner of his eye. He was still wearing the same clothes as before, but more buttons from his shirt were now undone and one of them was actually missing, which meant that a larger area of his waxed, hair-free chest was visible.
     
    He smelled kinda funny. Maybe the perfume had been his…
     
    “Recording ran on later than I thought,” the man answered with a voice full of gentle persuasion. “Didn’t Henry call to let you know?”
    Budd dropped his spoon noisily into his empty soup bowl and then rose from his seat. “Well, sweetheart, it’s been great to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
    Juliette pushed back her chair and stood up. She flashed Budd a warm smile. “Thank you, Monsieur Ashby.”
    “As for you, buddy, I’m gonna let your ‘tramp’ comment slide, but only if you do me one small favor. You gotta tell me something so I can settle a wager with my pal Stephen.” Budd paused to pick up his champagne flute and then stepped away, indicating for the young man to occupy the empty seat. “Were the two blondes you were with in the elevator a couple of hours ago actually sisters? Or did they just have the same plastic surgeon and hairstylist?”
    Settling into his chair, the young man’s jaw dropped open. He turned his head quickly from Juliette to Budd, apparently speechless.
    Budd gave him a wink and then walked away, still holding the champagne.
     
    Should I have kept my mouth shut?
    Maybe.
    I felt sorry for Juliette, she was a nice girl, and I didn’t want to upset her. But she had the right to know. As for that smarmy, spiky-haired Lothario, I couldn’t give a monkey’s ass ’bout choppin’ him; if you live by the sword, you die by the sword. And that applies to whatever sword you choose to swing…
     
    Budd walked through the attendant-opened wooden doors to find that the maître d’ was standing at his podium, busily writing in his leather notebook. “Could you fetch my stuff, please?”
    “Certainly, sir. Please accept my sincerest apologies that you were unable to savor our cuisine tonight. We had no cancellations,” the maître d’ said. His finger pressed a button on the side of the podium. “Bring through the Stetson and backpack.”
    “What floor is the bar?”
    “The most popular is on the first floor, sir.”
    “And what time does it close?”
    “It doesn’t, sir.”
    “Do they sell peanuts?”
    The maître d’ paused. “I believe so, sir.”
    “That’s all I needed to hear.”
    From the restaurant, above the sound of the overlapping conversations, came the crash of a table toppling over. Plate ware and glass smashed on