Seized: An Urban Fantasy Novel (The Thrice Cursed Mage Book 4) Read Free Page B

repeating our order back. Evidently, ordering a whole pie wasn’t concerning, but then again, Vassago had rented out the whole place.
    “I’m surprised you let me order for you, Mac,” Jenna said, smirking at me. “Normally you insist on doing it yourself.”
    “I hadn’t had a chance to look at the menu, and since you know what I like…” I trailed off and finished with a shrug. Wow, we’d been alone together for all of two minutes and she was already testing me. This was going to go really well.
    Jenna eyed me carefully. “Makes sense.” The way she said it made me think it didn’t make a lick of sense, but I wasn’t about to push the issue. Her hand moved across the distance between us and settled on my thigh. For a second I wondered if she was testing me, but the way her hand felt on my thigh was so familiar I could conjure a million flashes of partial fantasy where it felt real. “I missed you.”
    I opened my mouth, unsure of what I was going to say, but thankfully I was saved by the bell. The chime at the front of the door rang, and as I turned to look at the people coming in, I nearly laughed.
    “Glad we’re finally here. You drive like an old lady,” said the ventriloquist doll perched in front of a teeny, tiny Asian girl who didn’t seem old enough to be out of high school. Then again, she was wearing a blue and white West High cheerleader uniform, so that could have been why. I glanced from the doll to the girl and back again. As I did so, the girl smacked her doll upside his wooden skull.
    “Ignore Marvin. Sometimes he talks when he’s not supposed to talk,” she said, glancing at the big Russian guy in an absurdly expensive suit holding the door open for her.
    “No matter,” said the Russian with a voice so slurred, I was pretty sure his blood had been replaced with pure vodka. If he was supposed to be our leader, we were going to be in a lot of trouble because I was pretty sure he was totally drunk.
    “Do you think they’re here?” the girl asked, stepping into the room as the hostess came out of the back room, spied them, and walked over.
    “Are you with Mister Vassago’s party?” she asked, her voice filled with cheery strain.
    “Yes,” the Russian said, looking past her and spying us. “Is that them?”
    The hostess nodded before turning and leading them toward us.
    I stood up as they approached and reached out one calloused hand to the Russian. “Hi, I’m Mac Brennan.” I gestured to Jenna who hadn’t bothered to stand up. “This is Jenna.”
    “I am Vitaly, and I am pleased to be meeting with you, Mac Brennan,” the big Russian said, taking my hand in his. As we shook, I kept waiting for him to shatter every bone in my fragile fleshy hand. He didn’t. His grip was firm in a way that told me he was very sure of himself. “You are the replacement, yes?”
    It made sense since he was the size of a grizzly bear. His shaved head gleamed in the sunlight as he smiled at me from behind a beard that would put a hipster lumberjack to shame. Despite looking like a convict straight out of the gulag and giving off the air of someone you don’t, under any circumstances, fuck with, he was dressed in a suit that cost more than I’d have been able to spend in a lifetime.
    “Yeah,” I said, not sure what else to say to that. “Care to fill me in on the job? I’m a little hazy on the details.”
    The big Russian nodded at me before waving the teenager into the booth. “We have job to do. We finish. We get paid. Is simple job. Lots of killing.” He shot me and Jenna a look. “Killing is your job. Is specialty, no? Vassago assures me you are very good at it.”
    Jenna smiled, showing just the barest flash of teeth. “Sugar, I’m an artist with a shotgun, and don’t even get me started on C4.”
    “I bet you’re an artist with lots of things,” the doll said as the girl plopped it on the table in front of her.
    “That’s kind of rude,” I said, glaring at the doll. I