Page 1 of Jonas

PROLOGUE

Jonas Lang

“Thank you for meeting with me. I’m Amy Hart.”

I hung back with my team and watched Zane shake the blonde’s hand.

“Please have a seat.” She swept her hand in the general direction of the longest conference table I’d ever seen.

The fucker had to be twenty feet long and solid mahogany.

Plush, dark-brown leather chairs crowded the table.

Dark-brown Victorian wood paneling on the walls.

The same dark wood in a grid on the coffered ceiling, creating cream squares.

Marble on the floor.

Typical government building.

“Always nice to see what government overspending looks like,” Cash not so quietly said as he pulled out a chair.

Clearly, the woman heard Cash’s remark. Her mouth twitched, but she controlled her smile.

“Call me curious,” Zane amicably returned.

“Curious?” Amy inquired.

“Curious as to why the US Treasury Department is asking for a meeting.”

“Please have a seat and I’ll explain.”

“Actually, before we get too comfortable and waste time, explain why you called.”

Too late, Cash was already comfortable and reaching for a Danish from a perfectly arranged assortment of breakfast pastries.

The man was getting soft in his old age, or maybe it was civilian life.

Never take food or drink from an unknown.

And Amy Hart was an unknown. She didn’t look like she worked for the Treasury Department. She certainly didn’t look comfortable in her smart, boring business dress and sensible high heels. She’d pulled at the necklace around her neck twice in the two minutes I’d been in her presence. Beyond all that, she did not look like an Amy. Not with her wavy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Further, this woman didn’t sit behind a desk in a dress and jewelry, but if she had to, she’d do it in jeans and boots.

She worked in the field.

All of this was bullshit.

A farce.

A game.

Three things I excelled at, the last I always won.

“Information in exchange for protection.”

Zane gave the team a dip of his chin and pulled out his chair.