Order of the Omni: A Supernatural Romantic Suspense Novel (The Immortalies Book 1) by Penny Knight (good english books to read txt) 📗

I feel the familiar knot forming in my stomach when I think about how it could only have been from my birth mother. Maybe one drug-fuelled night, perhaps she let some loser she was dating ink me, who knows. Either way, it’s there, and I hate exposing it. That settles it, no more procrastinating, I’m getting it removed. Next week I will schedule a consultation.

The familiar buzz from my bag rings out. I reach in for my phone and look down to read the message.

Topher: YOU ARE NOT ONLINE YET!!!

“Shit!” I curse. Fumbling with one hand, I reply, as I finish my primping and gather my things with the other.

Elita: One minute.

I researched the hotel all night. There are many reasons for the intelligence collection stage before an on-site assignment. Safety first, that is paramount. Know your exits, the streets and surroundings, you can never one hundred percent know how a mark will react if they ever uncover they are being watched and followed. But most important, I need to show I belong and fade into the background. I need information to do that.

This hotel is not in the city’s heart, or in the busy end of North Terrace next to the casinos, train station, medical prescient and retail shops. It’s at the south end of the city. Hemmed in by parklands and many small boutique business offices. This means it wouldn’t be your first choice if you were a tourist, and it’s not a cheap option either. That’s why I chose my grey designer woolen pencil skirt combined with a white silk blouse. It always makes me internally smile when I hit the mark. I pull out the black cast iron chair with emerald velvet cushioning from the table and look around. It would seem I am spot on. There are a few others dressed smartly, buried in their laptops working, and I fit right in.

I follow suit and take mine out from my satchel. There’s a compartment in the middle of the table where you can plug a network cable and power outlet in. It’s highlighted on their website as a notable feature.

Opening my laptop, I connect all the cables and log in. Topher needs me on their network to gain access.

A dialogue box pops up and asks for authentication to their wireless network. It wants a room number, and a token given from the hotel. I close that for now. Topher can figure that out when I give him control of my computer. Instead, I connect to my wireless hotspot and open the encrypted messaging app. I don’t even have time to type before his message pops up on my screen.

T: Bout time!! You’re cutting it close. What the hell happened?

E: Long Story. Video is up.

From the online images, there was no clear view of all the exits or points of interest. So we decided I would cover the front entrance and reception. While Topher can monitor the bar behind me from the webcam, I just turned on.

T: WTF you look like shit!!

Rolling my eyes, I take out my tiny earpiece and pretend to fix my earring, ignoring his comment. Clearly, the webcam works. I already know I look like shit, I don’t need to be reminded.

Now I have to test the audio through the head peace.

I message Topher.

E: Say something, Loser!

His laugh is loud and clear. It works.

“Loser?? What are you, 6?” he says.

I don’t reply, not wanting people to think I’m talking to myself. Instead, I pull up a spreadsheet on my computer to feign work in case people are nosey.

“Seriously though, you look terrible,” he continues in my ear.

I put my elbow on the table and place my hand over my mouth as I lean, looking at the computer.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Can you see the bar?

“Um, move it two inches to the right. And your big head out of the way,” he says.

I do as he says and sit back in my chair.

“Perfect,” he says.

And just in time.

Richard Carrington stalks in with his chin up. Oozing arrogance that can only come from an entitled asshole that cheats on his wife. He pats down his maroon tie and fixes the collar of his grey pinstripe suit. Eyes straight on the bar, he beelines straight to it.

I hope I’m wrong. Maybe this time we can say. “Hey, you know what, he isn’t cheating. He is actually working when he claims he works. He speaks about you all the time. And when you ring, he always smiles before he answers.”

It’s sad, but I suspect this is not the case for her. I know she will get awful news. I just hope she gets a better lawyer than he is to take care of their divorce.

“He sat at the bar. I think he’s ordering a drink,” Topher narrates. “I don’t see anyone else. You’re the only chick alone in the lobby.” He laughs. “What a surprise.”

I roll my eyes and type.

E: “What’s the battery life on the brooch?”

“About 30 minutes. If you get close enough, I will hear him, too,” he responds.

I open my bag of tricks and grasp the brooch that includes our recording equipment inside. Turning it on, I then clip it to the left side of my blouse. I feel the adrenaline kick in a notch.

The sadness I felt for his wife has spiraled to anger, which feeds my need to catch this scumbag.

E: “I’m going in.”

“I got you E. Right here with you.” It’s good to know I have backup. I don’t need it for this case, but feeling he’s around gives me added confidence. Leaving two seats between us, I take sit down.

The bartender is a beautiful red-haired curvy woman with a big, sunny smile. She turns towards me, strolling past Carrington. In my peripheral vision I spot him stare down at her arse, in her tight black skirt.

“Good afternoon, Miss. May I get you a drink?” she smiles at me.

“Yes, thank