The Export by J.K. Kelly (read along books txt) 📕

same one that Matt had staged a stumble into on his reconnaissance mission.

Eve stated she was there for a two o’clock appointment and that Matt was her assistant. The guard wasn’t interested in anything but her handbag. He motioned for it, rifled through it, and then returned it without a word.

He looked at Matt. “He’s not going in,” the guard insisted. “You have one camera. I’m sure you can snap a few photos all on your own. You’re a big girl.” She protested, but it was clear from the guard’s demeanor and body language that she, and only she, was getting past him. The alpha turned to Matt.

“What’s it gonna be, Jäger breath?” he asked in a challenging tone.

What’s it been, two days since I had my last fight? Matt thought.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Standing there in the hall, confronting an armed security staffer for an American diplomat, one word in particular was front and center in his mind. Shit! Matt thought to himself. Now what? I’m not here to start an international incident. His plan was blowing up right in front of him, and he struggled to lay out a Plan B in his mind.

*

Eve thought it would be fun to have her lover along for the shoot, maybe kick the guard’s ass, and perhaps act as a safeguard against any unwanted advances by her subject. But work was work, and she needed to proceed without him. That stuff only happened in the movies.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still get your fee,” she said to Matt, looking at him with a reassuring smile as she dismissed him. “Go back to the lobby bar. I’ll catch up with you there.”

“Okie dokie,” Matt replied. “Good luck.”

He stepped back to the elevator doors and waited for its return and watched as the guard escorted Eve further down the hallway to a door to the Roosevelt Suite. A second guard opened the door for her and then closed it behind her as she disappeared into the room.

A bell sounded, signaling the arrival of the elevator. Matt smiled at the alpha and stepped inside. So much for bugging the bastard. To his own surprise, the next thought went to her: I hope she’ll be alright. Taking a seat at the bar but waving off the attendant, Matt sat patiently and waited, watching the entryway for Eve. Thirty minutes later, he smiled as she entered the room and took the seat next to him.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

Eve placed the Nikon on the bar in front of her and ordered an Aperol spritz, a popular cocktail outside of the United States. She murmured a few words Matt couldn’t discern. They sat together for a few minutes before she said anything else.

“So, the guy is a pig and an environmental nightmare,” she stated loudly.

Matt gestured for her to turn down the volume, but she became even more agitated. “Screw that, buddy boy,” she said. “I’m so pissed I might have to get up in front of a microphone and shout it to the world.” She went on to give a blow-by-blow description of the photoshoot that had just taken place.

“First he told his guard to leave, then he tells me he loves my dress, that I am a classic beauty, and that I’m on the wrong side of the camera. Then he takes my hand as if to shake it, but holds it entirely too long. It was clear he had been drinking. His speech was slurred, and I could smell it on his breath.”

“So, you kneed him in the nuts and got thrown out?” Matt suggested. “You obviously don’t put up with anything you don’t like.”

“No,” she replied, “that fat douche probably would have enjoyed it.”

*

She continued her story. She had indeed pulled her hand back once she felt his grasp turn clammy. She thought the suite was very impressive, but with only the two of them there, she wanted to get the shot and leave before he had the chance to say or do anything else that would result in an even more awkward moment or get her arrested for assaulting a government official.

“The light coming into the room was perfect, so I had him stand near the window as if he was looking out it, and change his expression from one to another. Pensive, smiling, worried – like he actually gave a shit about global warming.”

“You actually said that?”

“Yeah, and it pissed him off.”

“’Oh, Christ, not another overly sensitive environmentalist,’” she replayed for Matt, reflecting Tilton’s condescending tone. “‘So, my dear, you said you were from Montreal. How did you get here? Unless you walked or rode a bike or a horse, or paddled a canoe up the damn St. Lawrence, you burned fossil fuels to get here. Did you drive or fly?’”

Matt was listening to every word as she continued.

“I told him I took the train, only fifteen dollars from Montreal to Quebec. That seemed to piss him off even more.”

“‘Okay, when was the last time you flew anywhere?’ he asked. I told him I was in Europe recently and he laughed, pointing at my camera. He said something about causing waste by using film instead of a memory card, and then he had the balls to suggest we should get together for a late dinner tonight. What a dick,” she said, taking the last sip of her spritz. “As I left, just as the door was closing behind me, he said something under his breath, I wasn’t sure I heard it correctly, but it rhymes with hunt.”

“What an asshole! So, what now?” Matt asked, watching as Eve dug through her purse for cash. He tried to grab the check holder, but she got to it first.

“Oh no, young man,” she smiled. “This goes on my expense account.” She paid the bill and then asked Matt for his phone. Once he unlocked it, she typed in her name and cell number and then returned it to him.

“I’ve got a five o’clock