*Every woman's weight hits differentð*
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Living a double life came naturally to Thorne. The art of guile, ingrained in him since birth, made him the ultimate master of disguise. His past had molded him into a fighter, and the training he'd received, honed his skills.
Jeannie Jones was his fifth assignmentâa strictly get to know and go. That meant no under the sheets involvement. He would become Jeannie's friend, remaining so until the mission reached its conclusion. After that, he'd disappear like the flash of the blazing sun as it sank under the waves of the ocean, on its way to light up another part of the world.
Thorne studied Jeannie as they walked the few blocks to El Chico's and he concluded that as tall as Jeannie was, she would come to his chinâif he hugged her.
That won't happen, Thorne thought.
Still, he grinned at the way Jeannie's gaze fell away when he tried to catch her eyes.
Despite the patrons filling up nearly every table, Thorne took in the entire room in a moment's glance, marking potential hazards and pitfalls. It was important he maintain a good vigilance. Keen awareness of his surroundings had saved him a thousand times over.
"Hawthorne?" Jeannie asked. "Do you mind if I run to the restroom before we sit down?"
He nodded. "Sure, Jeannie." Thorne indicated to a vacated stool at the countertop. "I'll be right there."
Giving him a slight smile, Jeannie headed to the restroom and as Thorne watched her go, he went over what he'd learned about his new mark.
Other agents, when assigned demure women like Jeannie, complained to their handlers that shy women were too difficult to breach. Thorne didn't mind. He loved the challenge. He always received a thrill when he broke down a mark's armor and cracked a woman to her core. The invigorating process took him away from the morose thoughts of his past and the chase also helped him hold on to what humanity he had left.
The humanity nearly obliterated by the tragedies of his youth.
Growing up, he'd constantly sneaked out of his foster homes to roam the streets. Everything and anyone was up for destruction. It was his way of paying society back for abandoning him. For leaving him in a system that failed to heal him from his wounds.
Joining The Source at sixteen had changed his outlook. It had steered him from the wrong path by giving him a purpose and he looked forward to each new assignment with enthusiasm.
His first mark, a recently divorced doctor almost fifteen years his senior, had been shy as well, yet it had taken only a week before Thorne was in her inner circle and less than that before he was in her bed.
That time, the package had been a formula for a new type of nerve gas. Within a month, Thorne had delivered it to The Source. He even received a large bonus for his quick turnaround.
The next two marks, loose in morals and scruples, had also allowed him to complete his mission in next to no time.
The Conspiracy Theorist, the assignment before Jeannie, hadn't gone so easy as the others. That mark, married with two small children, was ready to leave her life and her work behind on the fake promises he'd made her. Thorne had enjoyed ruining the mark, but not what happened afterward. No. Not at all. He didn't like thatâ
Jeannie's voice broke through his thoughts, "Where would you like to sit?"
Thorne stood, shaking off the melancholy. "Let's sit in the corner." He placed his hand in the small of her back, growing pleased when she leaned into him.
She's too easy. Soon, I'll be her best friend.
That's all the agency required him to do. Watch Jeannie Jones and report her movements back to The Source. Nothing more, nothing less. This mission, unlike the last one, was a walk in the park. He deserved it after what had happened.
"So, Hawthorne, are you all settled in?" Jeannie asked, sliding into the booth.
He plopped down on the opposite seat, his attention on her face. "Um, yes. Just need to unpack a few boxes is all."
"If you want, I'd be happy to have you over for dinner tonight so you don't have to cook."
Thorne let his confident smirk grow into a wide smile. "Sure, Jeannie. I would like that."
"You can invite your friends as well."
The disappointment flooding into his veins, shocked him into a moment of silence. Jeannie should only want him to come over, not Dalton and Quentin too.
"No," he said shortly, barely managing not to growl.
Jeannie gave him a curious look and he elaborated. "They'll be busy."
His assignment shrugged off his tone. "Well, they're welcome to come." She giggled. "I always make too much."
Thorne's disappointment turned into irritation at her apparent mirth. He had the sneaking suspicion Jeannie was laughing at him.
His bottom lip poked out in frustration at her insistence. "Like I said: they will be busy."
Jeannie persisted, "Maybe another time?"
"Maybe," Thorne said. But he thought, not if I can help it.
Jeannie picked up her menu while Thorne did the same. Her indulgent smile, although pleasant to look at, did little to ease the tension in his shoulders.
Their breakfast choices made, Thorne took up the conversation, "So tell me about yourself, Jeannie. What's your major?"
Thorne already knew Jeannie's vitals and statistics from the USB stick Ms. Z had given him. Her heightâ5â²8". Weight 128 pounds. From her last OBGYN appointment a week before she moved in to her apartment, Jeannie, a virgin, used birth control pills to regulate her erratic menstruation.
She glanced at her folded menu before reverting her gaze to his. "I graduated last year with a bachelor's in medicine and biology, and now I'm getting my master's in those subjects."
"Why, you must be pretty smart, Jeannie," Thorne said, playing up his Southern accent. Jeannie seemed to appreciate his drawl. Her body leaned forward every time he spoke.
Thorne pretended to grow thoughtful as if his mind was busy puzzling out some great mystery. "How old are you, Jeannie? You can't be more than twenty?" He already knew her twentieth birthday was coming up in December, right around Christmas.
"I'll be twenty on December twenty-fourth," Jeannie said, tracing the menu with her fingertip.
Thorne gave her his best-wicked smile. "I'll have to remember that."
Jeannie bobbed her head in shyness and her gaze shunted downward.
"How old were you when you graduated?" Thorne asked, deliberately brushing his knees against hers. The mark's eyes popped, giving him immense satisfaction.
"I-I graduated high school when I was sixteen and I finished my dual undergraduate degree last year."
Thorne let fake amazement show on his face by widening his eyes and lifting the corners of his mouth. "That's a lot of classes in just four years."
Jeannie shrugged as if to say people accomplished what she had every day.
"Your parents must be real proud, Jeannie."
"My dad is. My mom passed away when I was twelve," Jeannie said, her voice cracking at the end.
He knew this. Jeannie's file stated her mother had died in a hit-and-run accident two months before her thirteenth birthday. The police had never caught the suspect.
Genuine sympathy rushed through him as he reached over and patted her hand.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Jeannie." Thorne leaned back and looked around the restaurant, giving Jeannie a moment to compose herself before he spoke again. When her gaze returned to his face he asked, "Why did you choose to study here?" Her answer didn't interest him as he already knew it.
Jeannie had received a full-ride scholarship with all expenses paid and a monthly stipend. The best offer from any college she'd applied to. Right after she'd accepted, The Source arranged his job of teaching chemistry as a visiting fellow, good for however long his assignment lasted.
"The Uni gave me a scholarship and promised I could finish my master's and doctorate within two years' time."
Thorne noted that Jeannie spoke with confidence about her studies. It was a welcome break from her earlier bashfulness.
Maybe there is more to this mark?
He couldn't wait to find out.