Ethan Justice: Origins (Ethan Justice #1) Read Free Page B

the Spanish waitress, had arrived with a friend - Samantha or something? John had hit it off immediately with Carmen’s friend, which should have been a clue the size of a skyscraper, but he had been drunk so he should cut himself a little slack. She had come home with him - the same woman who was now crouching on his oversized bed, searching the room for her clothes.
    Taking care not to drop the covers, John knelt and retrieved the woman’s clothes from under the bed. She would never have found them without moving, and she wasn’t going anywhere until she could adequately cover herself. He passed the items to her with a trembling hand. Was that the whisky or the fact he had a beautiful, naked woman on his bed? Most likely the latter. He turned his back to her, allowing her some privacy to dress. He noticed the light appearing through the hole in the curtain. Seven o’clock had been and gone.
    “We seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he said. “I remember that we chatted and kissed and that Mark took off, but I honestly didn’t know about...” How did he say this without eliciting further histrionics? He needed to mind his choice of words. “I didn’t know about ... you know?”
    “Forget about it,” she said, dismissively. “You were off your face. Your buddy thought you could do with cheering up. Do you even remember my name?”
    “Samantha is it? Sorry,” he said. “I can barely remember my own.”
    “You can turn around now,” she said.
    John turned and was surprised to find her standing in front of him with her hand held out. She stood about an inch above him in black high heels and a black mini dress. The mischievous look had gone, leaving just the face of a dark-haired angel.
    “I’m Savannah,” she said.
    “Yeah right,” John said. He extended his hand to meet hers. It really was the softest of hands, and he felt a pleasant tingle shoot up his arm when they touched. “I’m John Smith,” he said.
    “Yeah right,” she said. “Look, if you could just pay me the thousand pounds ... John Smith ...” she gave a huge grin like there was something funny about the name, “... then I’ll be off.”
    John caught his breath. “Didn’t Mark take care of that?”
    “No, he said you were loaded and wouldn’t hear of it.”
    “This is a joke, right?”
    “Am I smiling?”
    She wasn’t, but she was still stunning. It must be a con. Mark was the city financier, the money man, Mr Fat Wallet. He was a joker but not of the practical kind. He was way too sophisticated for that.
    “I’ll call Mark,” he threatened.
    “Well make it quick,” she said, looking around the room. “I need to go.”
    John grabbed the cordless phone from the bedside table and speed-dialled his best friend.
    “Yes,” the voice was sharp and edgy. It didn’t sound like Mark at all.
    “Mark?” John said.
    “Oh it’s you. What is it? I’m in the middle of something.”
    “Good morning to you too.”
    “John, I don’t have time for games,” said Mark. “What is it you want?”
    “You set me up with a prost ... a girl.” Phew, that was close. “Now she says I owe her a thousand pounds.”
    “Yes. Your parents are right. You’re a waste of space. I thought this might give you the kick up the arse you so badly need.” Mark hung up.
    John’s head thumped like his heart was inside it. He stared at the handset open mouthed. Mark had never spoken to him like that before. Yes, he’d made fun of John’s adversity to success and yes, he’d turned up at his parents’ house last Sunday in an intervention style attack on his lifestyle - but this? The voice was Mark’s, but the behaviour was not that of his best friend.
    “Told you,” she said.
    John shook his head and exhaled. His head didn’t appreciate the movement.
    “Arghh! This can’t be right.” What was up with Mark? He let out a huge sigh, holding his head with one hand to ensure it didn’t move. Mark could wait. John had more immediate