The Export J.K. Kelly (best way to read e books .TXT) 📖

emotional warmth she had suggested that a new woman might have ignited? He laughed to himself and laughed again when he realized he’d said, “God, I hope not,” out loud.

Once inside the restaurant and seated at the bar, he bypassed the grilled bone marrow and other specialties on the menu and ordered a medium-well cheeseburger, well-done fries, and some mayo for the both of them. Coke Zero, no ice, would be the drink of the day. He’d need to be ready for whatever was waiting for him at the CIA so a meal and a mind check would set him. But he soon found himself surrounded by the noise of a lunchtime birthday celebration that included deep dives into alcohol. His personal space at the bar was suddenly invaded with the subtlety of a bull in an elevator.

“Shit,” Matt declared loudly as a drunk partygoer bumped not once but twice into Matt’s back, spilling his drink and disrupting his thought process.

“Excuse me,” the young man slurred as he waved for the bartender. “Why so serious?” Matt turned to look at the offender. He was just a kid, fresh out of college. Probably a tech for one of the agencies or banks that occupied the district. Clumsy, but harmless.

“I don’t want to be rude, but get on back to your party, okay?” Matt said as he stared directly into the bumper’s eyes.

“God, you’re good looking,” a young woman responded, stepping between them and returning a much friendlier gaze. Another tech no doubt, Matt thought as he sized her up. Beach girl from the valley, he bet. Blonde hair pulled back in a pony tail, blue eyes, great tan, great skin, and the eyeglasses topped off the look. The blue blouse, black slacks, and black heels dressed her perfectly. The designated sober of the group, she extended her hand and introduced herself as “Michelle, from California by way of Wharton.”

“No offense,” Matt responded, “but I’m prepping for a meeting. Please do me a favor. Go back to your party and take him with you.“

Not deterred, Michelle called out to the bartender and ordered another soda for her new friend and another one for herself.

“Did anyone ever say you look a lot like George Clooney?” The free drink and the flattery went nowhere with Matt.

“Yes,” Matt said sternly. “I get that all the time. Sorry, but I need to focus.”

“That’s cool,” Michelle responded. “Good luck with your meeting!”

When Matt’s food finally arrived, he devoured the burger but noticed something happening behind him through the mirror at the bar. The young man who had spilled his drink on Matt had headed to the toilets, but a much larger man, one with a sinister demeanor, lots of muscle, and not much hair, had left his stool at the far end of the bar and followed him. The sensors in Matt’s mind were screaming. Damn it. This kid’s in trouble.

Matt looked to the bartender, gestured he wasn’t finished with his meal, and then left the bar as if to take a leak. Once inside the men’s room, it was clear his sensors were dead on.

“What’s this?” he said to the thug who was now holding the drunk against the wall by his throat.

“Piss off, buddy boy,” the aggressor snarled, glaring at Matt and then returning his attention to the captive.

Matt looked around the room. They were the only ones in it. He swept the room again, looking for potential weapons he could use if needed, or ones the perp could turn on him if the confrontation escalated that far. Well I could shove the urinal cake down his throat, Matt thought with a grin.

“I don’t know what this is,” Matt stated, giving the now terrified victim a look Matt hoped would let the young man know he’d be okay soon. “But you need to get your hand off that kid’s neck, or I’m going to break it off and shove it up your ass.” The man squeezed the neck tighter and looked to Matt’s left and right.

“You didn’t bring any friends,” he stated. “Last call to get lost!”

Matt smiled and, in an instant, had lurched toward the man, driving a hard kick against the side of the man’s knee. He grabbed the man’s free hand with his left and delivered a right-handed throat punch that released the drunk and dropped his assailant to the bathroom floor.

“Get out of here,” Matt commanded in a calm voice, never taking his eyes off the perp.

“But…” he started to protest.

“You must be hard of hearing,” Matt said, now giving the victim the same look he had given the man on the floor. With that, he quickly left the bathroom.

Matt knew he would only have another minute or two before the restaurant manager or the police entered the room and ruined his party. He had to act fast.

As the man tried to get up off the floor to try to fight, Matt delivered another hard kick to the man’s ribcage, knocking the air and the fight out of him. He reached down and pulled the man’s wallet from his jean’s pocket, removing his driver’s license, and employee ID card.

“Okay now, shithead,” Matt shouted to make certain he was paying attention. “I know who you are, and I know where you live and, oh yeah, where you work. One sound out of you to the police or anyone else, and I’ll be back in your face faster than you can blink. You got me?” Without a response, Matt drew back his foot again.

The man cowered, and after a few seconds’ delay, he finally nodded.

Matt threw the cards into a urinal basin, washed his hands, dried them, and then left the room. To his surprise, he found Michelle waiting for him outside the doorway.

She hadn’t called for help and had told a patron the room was out of order.

“Go back to your friends, Michelle, the show’s over,” Matt advised, then walked to the bar and dropped two twenties for the server.

Back out on