Extrasensory by Desiree Holt Page A

wire on this thing. There’s no wiggle room at all.”
    “We’d have to do that very carefully. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”
    “If it does, I’ll take care of it. Your hands will be clean. They’ll never look at me.”
    “God, let’s hope not.”
    The man watched his partner slide out of the booth and walk away, trying to still the slight edge of anxiety he felt. They’d done this many times before, always under the radar, always without leaving a trace. The spoils had given them a good life and full offshore bank accounts.
    He thought about all the years of scrounging, clawing, wheeling and dealing.
    Climbing the ladder of social and financial success one painful rung at a time. All the crap they’d put up with. The roles they’d had to play.
    And now this! This was the big score. After this one they could retire and never have to put up with the bullshit again. A lot was riding on this.
    God, he hoped this woman, whoever she was, didn’t somehow manage to fuck things up. Maybe his partner was right and she’d be a diversion. A red herring. That would be great, because as far as he could see, their plan was foolproof.
    He finished the dregs of coffee in his cup and made a face. What he really needed was a shot of good bourbon.
    He flipped open his cell phone, scrolled through the contact list and pressed one of the names. He might as well tell the buyers there may be a little hitch, just in case. Better to be bitched at than be killed for screwing up.
    “Khalid?” he said when the person answered. “I believe we may have a tiny problem.”
    * * * * *
    Dan was standing at the curb in front of the museum when Mia walked out the door. He was leaning against an SUV, another man equally as large and tough-looking standing next to him. Both had the same hard look on their faces. Power radiated from them in almost visible waves. For a moment her step faltered and she was ready to bolt back inside.
    Then Dan stepped forward, smiled and took her elbow to lead her to the vehicle.
    “Remember the friend I mentioned to you? This is Mark Halloran, the telepath I told you about.”
    Mia relaxed fractionally and shook Mark’s hand. At the contact she relaxed even more. As with Dan, the feeling she got was warm and pleasant. No threatening images interfered or invaded her brain. She let Dan help her into the passenger’s seat and buckled herself in. He raised his eyebrows at her change of outfit but made no comment, just grinned.
    “We’re not that far from downtown,” he commented as he drove, “and I wanted to take you someplace nice. How does Ruth’s Chris Steak House sound?”
    “Expensive,” she answered.
    “No problem,” he grinned. “This is on me, not Chase’s expense account. And I wanted someplace that was quiet where you’d feel comfortable.” Quiet and comfortable definitely described the restaurant. Noted as much for its ambiance as its high prices, here thick carpets reduced footsteps to whispers and the wait staff took orders in hushed tones, all in the atmosphere softened by low power recessed lighting.
    The hostess settled them in a high-backed booth and a waiter immediately handed them menus and took their drink orders. None of them ordered anything alcoholic.
    “I never drink during work hours,” Dan told her. He inclined his head at Mark.
    “And since I roped him into this, he’s on the clock too.”
    “I usually don’t drink anything stronger than wine,” Mia told him. ”But right now I don’t want anything to interfere with any impressions I might get.” She was so nervous at lunch she dropped her fork three times, her face flaming with embarrassment. She had this itchy feeling that Dan Romeo could actually see into her mind and know about her vision of him. Stupid, but she couldn’t wipe it away. What was the matter with her? They’d think she was some kind of ninny if she didn’t pull herself together. If that happened, there was no way they’d take her