Noble Intentions: Season Four Read Free Page B

time he'd seen her, she'd saved his life by stopping a rogue SIS agent from filling him with bullets.
    Since then, she'd been a ghost.
    Perhaps that meant it was time to accept his duty to her was done. He'd protected her long enough. She obviously could make her own way now.
    From 11th, Jack made his way to the Upper East Side. An eccentric millionaire had reached out to him through a private channel and showed interest in
    securing Jack's services as head of security for the duration of the man's stay in New York. The call came as little surprise. He'd fielded several over
    the past month after gaining a reputation in some circles. The reason? He'd prevented the assassination of a rising political star in London. In
    retrospect, it would have been best for all involved had she died. Eventually, she did. Regardless, Jack's status in the wake of the event offered new
    prospects. This one, being close to home, intrigued him.
    He didn't need the money. Even after turning ninety percent of his assets over to Bear, his bank accounts provided enough to live on for years to come. But
    Jack wasn't ready for retirement. Yet. And rather than eat up his accounts, he figured a better plan would be to add to them while he still had the
    ability. Short-term security gigs would provide an opportunity to do just that. Plus, they had the added benefit of giving him something to do every day.
    He expected his senses to dull over time due to age. Little could be done to prevent that. Maybe slow the decline down. But there was no need to accelerate
    the process by sitting around on a barstool all day.
    Upon entering the millionaire's condo building, the phone in Jack's pocket buzzed. He'd acted on a whim and purchased a smart phone. It had gigs of memory,
    and multiple gigahertz of processing, and cloud capabilities. At first none of that meant anything to him. The phone had nearly ended up in the trashcan on
    more than one occasion. But he took the time to figure it out. The devices, he figured, were here to stay. No point fighting them.
    A man the color of coal and the size of a box-truck entered the lobby. He had a dark t-shirt on that said, "Yeah, I'm That Guy." Jack figured he got asked
    the question a lot. The man gestured with his head for Jack to follow, so he did. They took the hallway to the left and entered a small windowless room.
    "I'm sure you know how this works," the guy said.
    "I'll save you the trouble." Jack reached behind and retrieved his Beretta. He released the magazine and set it and the pistol on the table, grip facing
    the other man.
    "Appreciate that, but it ain't gonna keep my hands off of you."
    Jack didn't resist the man's attempt. Wasn't like he was going to find anything. Hands ran roughshod up and down Jack's torso, legs, ankles. Finally, the
    guy stepped back and opened the door.
    "Let's go."
    They took the elevator to the top floor and walked the length of the building where they came to a stop in front of the last door. The man made Jack wait
    in the hallway. Murmurs escaped through the gap between the door and the floor. They were too low to decipher. After a few minutes, the guy returned and
    waved Jack inside the condo. The drawn curtains, perhaps purple in color and made from velvet, blocked out all the light. One dim bulb illuminated the
    room. A flash of orange shone from the corner. Jack didn't recognize the face behind the cigarette.
    The guy took a step forward. Curly silver hair with traces of black adorned a chiseled face.
    "Ah, Mr.-"
    Jack held out his hand and said, "No names."
    The guy nodded. "No problem."
    "Can we get some light in here?"
    "I'd prefer not." He paused a moment. "Took a bullet to the head twenty-five years ago, eyes haven't been the same since. I've got special glasses to help
    when outside, but I don't like wearing them inside the house."
    Jack's eyes adjusted. He made out the scar on the man's right cheek, between ear and eye. Maybe a remnant from the bullet that affected his