Planet Heist (The Dunham Archives Book 1) Read Free Page B

muscular boy standing on twenty.
    “Whatever you say. We’ll see later, I suppose. Rowan and I have to go meet a future client,” I said, and they all gave us curious looks before going off to their rooms, Wynn and Izan making bets on the battle that would happen soon enough, if Elaina had anything to do with it.
    “Let’s go, then.” I turned to Rowan, who stood stoically by the door.
    “How will we get there, since we can’t legally drive on this planet?” Rowan asked, always one to stick to regulations in order to avoid suspicion.
    “Has legally ever been a problem?” I smiled, grabbing the keys to our father’s shiny sleek convertible.
    We arrived at the hotel a minute later, 11:03, going thirty miles above the speed limit as we weaved through traffic. I walked out slowly, putting on sunglasses to shield my eyes from the blazing Egyptian sun and any cameras that were undoubtedly watching. They were deep purple shades that covered more of my face than necessary. The courtyard of the Hyatt was stone, with lush green ivy growing on the walls.
    Rowan escorted me, nodding to the maître de, to a table discretely hidden by an untreated acacia tree. We sat down, and I surveyed the surroundings, taking in every detail, every person. Anything and everything was filed into my large brain for a whole minute. When I was done, I glanced up at the gate, where a tall boy was standing in a suit and tie. He was stunningly handsome, I surprised myself by noticing. Normally, the looks of someone simply struck me as attractive or unattractive based on easy math. With my better-than-perfect vision, I could see his piercing green eyes and the curly black hair falling in front of them. He had a deep tan latched onto his skin, a native to the area, and his muscles tensed as he clenched and unclenched his fists from nerves. He was probably a few inches taller than me – at maybe six foot, two inches or a little over. We locked eyes for a split second, and he walked over casually, as if to a class in school rather than meeting the most prestigious criminals in the galaxy. In that instant, I knew who he was, confirming or denying any ideas that had previously occurred to me. He looked strikingly like his father, one of my past associates…and murder victims.
    “Kairee Dunham, what a pleasure,” he smiled, offering his hand. I declined, as did Rowan, to shake it.
    “Salah the Younger,” I smirked in acknowledgement, waiting for his reaction.
    “You know who I am?” He whispered, obviously stunned.
    “But of course – did you think I wouldn’t remember my most hated accomplice’s son?” I asked mockingly, trying implicitly to be insensitive to judge all his emotional control.
    “He was a bastard anyway,” Salah chuckled. “Well, after that great start, I suppose we should get to it, then.”
    We ordered lunch with a rather fidgety waitress who seemed spectacularly anxious for taking an average day meal.
    He rambled on with small talk that we didn’t pay any attention to.
    “Why didn’t you follow my instructions?” I asked angrily, cutting off something he was about to say and interrupting his every train of thought.
    He feigned confusion, but his eyes were laced with worry at my cold voice, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    Our food arrived, and I looked at the pasta with dark green spices in distaste.
    “Oh but you do. You’ve come armed with thirteen assassins; the most obvious was our red-haired waitress with a knife in her boot. Her right hand continued making the signed ‘K.’ And I’m just going out on a limb here, but you’re not deaf. I think it’s safe to assume it was a secret signal. That same waitress who attended to us just a moment ago, as I noticed, poured some sort of special spice, which is,” I picked up a leaf and smelled it, “a very rare plant found only in the forests of Zambia, which is known for its possession of the chemical cyanide – Bracken, is it? My knowledge of