AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Because we need you to help us finish this and stop what your father started.”
“He’s dead; it’s over,” I hedge.
“You know better,” the one doing all the talking says. “It will never be over, not until all the research and facilities are destroyed. We can’t do this without you, Novaleen—”
“Nova, my name is Nova. Only he called me Novaleen,” I snap, and he holds up his hands and smiles.
“I’m Louis. It was what one of the only nice nurses called me way before your father got his hands on me. So, Nova, are you in? Are you finished running and ready to face your past? Or are you not the woman we’ve been told about?”
Well, fuck.
I drop the gun and stare into his eyes. “Fine, but you’re buying me dinner while we talk.”
“Deal.” He smirks.
SIX
They lead me to the closest restaurant, their gazes never straying from me even as I hide my gun behind my coat. We are in public, but that doesn’t mean I trust them.
It could be a trap.
Nevertheless, I follow them inside the little eatery.
I ignore the chair he pulls out and sit at another, yanking it in before he can assist me. Pulling my gun from my jacket, I make sure to keep it aimed at them as they choose seats around me. One of them watches me with a smile before another man drops into the chair next to mine.
He’s attractive, that’s for sure, but he knows it. He has dark, nearly black hair that’s cut shorter on the sides and long in the front, so it sweeps across his forehead as he moves. His eyebrows arch over bright, baby-blue eyes that lock me in place, and his pink, puffy lips tilt as he watches me. His strong, square jaw is covered in stubble that’s clearly a few days old, stopping at his sharp cheekbones. His nose has a small scar across the bridge, probably from being broken once or twice, and I spot a scar on his left earlobe too. He’s a big bastard, not as big as some of the others at the table, but tall and packed with long, toned muscles. It’s his eyes, however, that cause me to stare. They are cold but cunning.
“I’m Jonas.” He smirks flirtatiously.
I nod in acknowledgement as Louis drops into a different chair. Slowly, all the others do as well, and I run my eyes over them.
The one next to Jonas is taller. He has to be nearly seven feet, with arms thicker than my body and thighs that would make a bodybuilder weep. His face is square and angular, both attractive and strong. He appears stern with his serious, deep-brown eyes, yet his black hair is neatly styled across his head. I spot a lot of scars and tattoos peeking out of his clothes as he meets my eyes.
“This is Nico,” Louis informs me, and the big guy nods slightly at me but doesn’t speak. He seems uncomfortable sitting in the tiny diner chair. Dressed in all black, he reminds me of an assassin.
“I’m Isaac,” the one with the brilliant smile says, reaching over and shaking my hand gently.
He’s not testing my grip, just genuinely happy to meet me. Weird. He’s only a few inches taller than me, but he still clearly works hard at being strong. His muscles are well defined, but he seems friendly and easy-going. His eyes are almost a grey slate colour, which are filled with warmth where the others’ aren’t, and are surrounded by long black lashes. His lips are a rosy colour and tipped up into a smile, and they are so thick and pouty, I’m almost jealous. He’s ridiculously handsome, that’s for sure, and the longer I stare at his friendly face, the more I’m struck by his features. He has a sharp jaw and cheekbones, a short beard extending up over his lip, and nicely styled hair, which is clearly meant to look like he put no time into it but very obviously did.
Where Nico looks like a killer, this man looks like a model.
“Dimitri,” the last man says, his thick accent rolling over his words. He sounds Serbian or Russian.
I analyse him like the others. Fuck, he’s attractive too. What are they? A bunch of fucking runway models? His deep-brown and golden-streaked hair is pushed back carelessly and shaved at the sides. His eyes are a warm, honey brown and put me at ease. His lips are in a neutral line, not frowning nor tilted up. As I look at him, his long, scarred fingers tap on the table impatiently, as if playing the rhythm of a song I can’t hear. He’s the smallest of them, slim too, but there is a shrewd intelligence in his eyes that reminds me not to underestimate him.
I look at Louis again as he sits and scans the room. It’s clear he’s in charge of this ragtag bunch of men. I would have pegged Nico or Jonas as the leader, but as I continue to stare, I can see why. He’s calm, collected, and clearly very smart. He almost emits a friendly vibe, which has me relaxing before I realise it.
He turns back to me like he can feel my gaze, his bright-green irises locking me in place. His hair is pale, almost an icy blond, which is shaved at the sides and then stands up on top in soft waves. He has rough stubble across his cheeks and chin, extending around his thick lips.
“So, what is this,The Avengers?” I snort, ignoring my own perusal of them and filling the silence just as a waitress comes up.
“Hi, what can I get you all?” she asks politely. She’s a young girl, barely out of her teens. Her cheeks are red, and she doesn’t look any of us in the eye for long. I can almost sense her nerves.
“I’ll have a black coffee and a burger and fries. They are paying.” I grin.
She smiles at me and winks. “I don’t blame you, honey, and for you?” she asks the others.
“The same.” Dimitri nods.
