Scandal in Seattle Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Since we landed a Ten, and I’m in a bit of unchartered waters. I’m a wee bit excited.” I wondered if my answer sounded as fabricated as it felt. “So shoot me.”
    “I just might if you make a mess of this one,” G replied, sounding every bit as patronizing as she could. “This is a big Errand, I get that. If you’re going to make some slips, just be sure they’re with me, not with Mr. Callahan. We can’t afford even one slip with the Target in an Errand this big.”
    She wasn’t telling me anything I already didn’t know, so I stayed silent. My role in that Errand would be especially tricky because I wasn’t only deceiving the Target. I was also deceiving G.
    G continued. “I just heard from the Client that Mr. Callahan’s business trip ended sooner than anticipated. His flight just landed.”
    “Yes?”
    “So guess which red-eye you’re taking late tonight?”
    From one Errand straight into the next. If that kind of back-and-forth was to be expected, I’d need to be careful to keep my Errands straight. “The one from Seattle to San Francisco?”
    “Your flight leaves in an hour,” she replied. “You’d better hustle.”
    Instead of taking the exit I was planning on, I kept speeding down the freeway toward SEA-TAC. “Hustling.” I felt a fresh surge of adrenaline trickle into my veins. “What do you want me to do about the Hendrik Errand?” I wouldn’t have minded too much if she said to put it in the brain delete folder and forget about it, but that wasn’t our style. The Eves’ reputation hadn’t been built by bailing on Errands; it had been built by closing them out.
    “Mr. Callahan is only stateside for a couple of days before flying out of the country on another business trip,” G replied. “Use these couple of days to study his routines, maybe even to stage the Greet if you think the timing’s right. You’re on the first plane back to Seattle once Mr. Ten gets on his.”
    “Sounds like I’ll be racking up plenty of frequent flyer miles,” I joked, keeping in the sigh that wanted to be released. Back and forth, working multiple Errands simultaneously, exacting revenge on an ex-flame who happened to be a powerful, married billionaire . . . It was enough to make a girl want to curl up and hibernate.
    “Fifty-eight minutes,” G said in a sing-song voice before the line went dead.
    Normal conversation? Hell, I could have been appeased with a normal goodbye.
    I’d cruised into SEA-TAC, parked the Acura, and was boarding flight 3910 to San Francisco fifty minutes later. I didn’t have anything but the clothes on my back, my purse, and my briefcase. Clothes could be purchased; toiletries could be tracked down. But revenge . . . that couldn’t wait.
    I slipped into an oddly peaceful sleep before the plane lifted from the runway.
     

 
     

     
     
    I WAS RUNNING on two hours of sleep, and I had never felt more energized. Revenge was an odd thing—it could motivate a person like nothing else. It was my opinion that people who lacked motivation in life had a deficit of revenge. That wasn’t my problem, though. When it came to revenge, I had an abundant surplus.
    G hadn’t only rented a swanky condo on the beach for me; there was a flashy red vintage Mustang parked outside of the condo. It was a convertible and mint. Plus, it was fast. I didn’t need to look under the hood to make sure. Some things were obvious.
    Since it was almost sunrise by the time I’d showered and changed, I didn’t have time to familiarize myself with my sweet new pad. If I wanted to catch Henry alone, I knew just where to find him. The notes Mrs. Callahan had provided were helpful, sure, but Henry was a creature of habit. His morning runs on the beach were one of those habits.
    Five years ago, those runs spanned the San Diego coastline. I’d joined him on plenty. Fast forward a few years and a few hundred miles of coastline to the north, and Henry Callahan and I were about to have a deja vu