Free Crash Morph: Gate Shifter Book Two by JC Andrijeski Page A

mad-rush coffee break that usually occurred around ten a.m.
    Even so, the lobby was hardly deserted.  
    In a building like this one, it never was. I’d seen a number of people checking us out as a result, and not all that surprisingly, I guess.
    Jake and I had always made quite a pair, with our similar looks and unusual coloring.
    It was part of the reason Jake always wanted to drag me around to parties with him when we were both younger...and before I wised up enough to realize I was being used as an accessory in his scams. I knew my outfit was designed to be eye candy, anyway, drawing male attention as much for the skin showing and my legs as anything to do with my face and figure, per se.
    That part didn’t bother me; in fact, I was counting on it.
    Funnily enough, I’d found that wearing this kind of thing made me more anonymous, not less, and less likely to be recognized later by anyone who saw me, no matter how hard they stared. People stared at my legs and my butt and my chest. Some noticed my hair, or my waist, and even my eyes...but for the most part, my face blew right past them.
    Which was perfect for me right then, since I wasn’t keen to have any more people finding out I was back in town. So yeah, I was banking on no one remembering me today...or recognizing me, either.  
    This wasn’t my usual part of town, anyway, clients or no, which was the main reason I’d let Jake dress me up in the first place. Not too many people would know my face with this much make up even if they did know me, much less the skin-tight dress and my hair down with those loose curls Jake had painstakingly ironed into it.
    And yeah, that was assuming they bothered to take note of my face at all.
    Even so, I averted my gaze on a few stares.
    All but one, that is.
    We were still waiting for the elevator when I fielded a stare from a pair of baby blues that I recognized. I froze, like a deer in headlights, and the frown that had crinkled the man’s boyish face suddenly turned to understanding, then full-blown recognition. I felt a deeper kind of misgiving trickle down my spine as I watched those same eyes turn to ice.
    Shit. Bundy.
    Not the real Bundy, of course. The guy I’d once been paid to set up for rape.  
    Getting him to try and rape me hadn’t been hard.  
    Getting out of there with my life after I provoked him and before the cops could get there to catch him in the act, had proven a bit more difficult.
    I watched Bundy-boy look at me. I saw his eyes flicker down the dress to the high heels.
    Unfortunately, he had seen me in a lot of make-up before.
    His eyes shifted to Jake. I saw him take my brother’s measurements, as well.
    I couldn’t help thinking Bundy was probably trying to decide if Jake was Nik, the guy who’d thrown him across the alley and probably dislocated his shoulder that night.
    Just when I was about to nudge Jake myself, a guy in an expensive-looking suit walked up to Bundy and slapped him in a friendly, we’re-all-rich-guys-here-together kind of homo-erotic way. Bundy’s colder, more sociopathic look faded.
    Turning in a blink, he smiled at the man who had accosted him, giving him the appropriate yes-I’m-confident-I’m-one-of-you look in return, right before he motioned the guy in the direction of the nearest coffee bar.
    He spared me a final, threat-laden glance before he finished walking away.
    Swallowing, I pushed the elevator call button again.
    I found myself wondering if I should have brought the Glock, after all. Then again, where the hell would I have put it? I’d sooner give a loaded gun to Jake as hand one to a toddler.
    I entered the first set of doors that opened in front of us, clearing my throat to get Jake to follow. Of course, in doing so, I interrupted where he’d been posing for another group of professionals in tailored suits.
    I saw him smile back at an appreciative look from a forty-something exec type, a woman with a seriously aerobicized body, one she probably tortured