Chase Baker and the Golden Condor: (A Chase Baker Thriller Series No. 2) Read Free

gynecologist fiancé …
    the very man who claims to love me and only me … makes it a point to
    kiss and more than kiss every skirt he can get his hands on. Including his
    clients.”
    “Is this a bad time, agent lady?” I say, forcing a pretend
    frown. “Because I can go grab a cold shower and come back.”
    “You, client man, will remain right where you are. And
    that’s an order.”
    That’s when I squat at the knees, slip my arms under her
    legs, and lift her up onto the glass desk, knocking over a cup full of pencils
    and pens and sending two manuscripts onto the floor. Chase the wicked.
    “I thought we arranged this meeting so we could discuss your
    future, Chase Baker,” she says, her breathing growing heavy.
    Looking down, I catch my reflection in the table top. I
    might have shaved and combed my hair once I landed this morning at JFK
    International Airport. But I like the scruffy look and my hair is so short
    these days a comb would be useless.
    Leslie looks me up and down.
    “Glad you dressed for the occasion,” she says. “You dress
    just like The Man in the Yellow Hat from the Curious George books.”
    “Hey, I just got off a plane less than an hour ago,” I say,
    patting the well-worn passport stored in my top left breast pocket. The pocket
    over my heart. “I haven’t even seen my little girl yet.”
    “Who are you kidding?” she laughs. “You would have worn that
    getup anyway.”
    It’s the truth and she knows it. What’s also the truth is
    that I’ve just flown in from West Africa via Paris where I was on assignment
    for a glossy called Living Ready who hit me up for a survival in the
    bush story, pictures and words. While I survived the bush with little
    more than mosquito bites, the fifteen-hundred-buck payday barely covered my
    flights. But then, that’s showbiz, as they say. But it does explain why I’ve
    arrived for my meeting not in a business suit but instead my red-clay-soiled
    cargo pants, ten-year-old lace-up Chippewa work boots, and black T-shirt under
    a National Geographic bush jacket, the sleeves rolled up all the way to
    my elbows.
    On the other hand, the tall, thirty-something Leslie is
    looking stunning today in her black miniskirt and matching black silk blouse.
    With the skirt hiked up high on her thighs, I can see that her sheer black
    stockings are of the thigh-high variety. My favorite. They match the black lace
    push-up bra that’s clearly visible beneath her blouse.
    I kiss her again and pretend I don’t notice the big giant
    engagement ring on the second finger of her left hand, her cheating
    gynecologist hubby already waiting for her arrival later this afternoon at his
    WASP-infected seaside Hamptons “escape.”
    “You called this meeting, Ms. Singer,” I say. “Are we going
    to discuss my future or not?”
    I proceed to unbutton her shirt, starting at the top and
    working my way down. But she pushes my hand away.
    “Wait just a minute,” she says. “My future husband may not
    be honorable, but I still haven’t made up my mind if two wrong turns equal the
    right path.” Then, as if she’s suddenly made her decision, she reaches out for
    the phone, picks it up, and using her extended pinky finger punches 0. “Linda,
    no calls or interruptions until I give you the all clear. You got that? Good.”
    She hangs up. Looking back into my eyes, she says, “You see that wood box on
    the end of the desk to your left?”
    I look. “So what?”
    “You’ll find a couple of primo Cubans in there just for you.
    Thought you might enjoy a welcome back smoke.” She slides down off the desk.
    “Go ahead. Light up while I freshen up.”
    Looks like two wrong turns does indeed equal the right
    path…
    She comes around the desk and disappears into her private
    bathroom. I open the lid on the box, pull out a cigar, and cut away the end
    with the blade on the new pocketknife I picked up at the duty-free at JFK after
    mine was confiscated prior to boarding the