Free The Killing League by Dani Amore Page B

thing, pissing them off by being too much of a smart ass was something entirely different. She had fired him immediately.
    “Hey Boss!” Anthony Toffol, her sous chef, called out as she started inventory on the wine selections.
    “Yeah,” she said. He stood with the door to the kitchen open. Nicole smelled the olive oil, garlic, onion, rosemary, shallots, paprika and black pepper that were being used in various incarnations.
    “Someone dropped off a card for you,” he said. “It was under the door when I opened up — it’s over on the receptionist’s table.”
    “Okay, thanks,” she said. She finished cataloging the vintages she wanted to highlight for tonight’s courses, then walked to the front of the dining room. Rather than a formal podium, Nicole had set up a small antique table where the hostess received guests.
    Nicole glanced over and saw an envelope. She walked over, picked it up and looked at the front. There was a little symbol on the front, like a shield of some sort, with two letters.
    KL.
    She opened the card and a small slip of paper was inside.

Dear Nicole,
Congratulations on the success of Thicque! It sounds like a wonderful place to enjoy good food and renew bonds with old friends! Based on your success, I am happy to let you know that you have been accepted as an official member of KL. I know this holds no meaning for you, but I assure you in the very near future it will. I look forward to seeing you in person again and watch as you slice, dice, chop and julienne the way only you can!
Sincerely,
The Commissioner
    She looked at the symbol below the message. It was the same “KL” inside a shield. How weird, Nicole thought. Probably some kind of online restaurant guide that offers coupons and specials to area restaurants. They would want Thicque no doubt to pay some hefty upfront fee in exchange for being listed in this KL. Maybe it stood for Kitchen List. Or something cheesy like Kalifornia Luxury. Who knew?
    Nicole dropped the card into the trash.
    What a weird message and a weird logo. It didn’t even look like a symbol having to do with food or dining.
    The way the “KL” was inside that goofy shield made it look like a sports team or some kind of football league.
    Whatever it was, Nicole had no intention of participating.

30.
    Mack
    The pillow in his arms was damp with sweat. His tongue felt like balsa wood. The spike through his brain reminded him of the scenes from the Omen where photographs showed a giant iron crucifix thrust through the future heads of Satan’s victims.
    Mack was surprised at the severity of his hangover. He had downed the rest of the beers in the cooler after Adelia and Oscar left, but there hadn’t been that many.
    Maybe he was getting old.
    With that thought in mind, he rolled out of bed. His feet hit the floor with a thud that reverberated through his body. He looked up and out the bedroom door, judged the distance to the kitchen and the coffeemaker like the generals in World War Two judging the distance across a bridge too far.
    He stood, felt his insides shift and sweat broke out along his forehead. He walked into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee, then went into the living room and sat in his favorite chair, facing the big picture window and the river.
    He’d been sitting in this chair a lot more lately, and he didn’t like it.
    There was more to life than what he was doing. Truth was, he envied Adelia and her husband. Their easy intimacy with each other. They were life partners, as corny as the term sounded. He’d had work partners, but never someone to share in his life.
    He thought of Nicole Candela, then stood, put his empty coffee cup in the sink, changed into a swimming suit, and dove into the pool.
    Mack cut through the water, his hands like knives slitting the belly of the pool’s surface, a gifted surgeon leaving no mark.
    He drove forward, his legs thrumming with strength and power. He swam steadily for twenty-five minutes and felt