Book Junkiez

Chapter 1

A quarter of a mile from the White House in Washington, D.C.,

Vice President Dean Ryzer waited in a discreet location—the

overstocked storage room in the bar of his half-sister Lou Lou—for

his handler to arrive. Nobody would know of this meeting, not even

Lou Lou; he made sure of that. He killed her yesterday. A “Closed

for Renovations” sign was hung on the entrance door that afforded

them all the privacy they would need to complete the transaction.

Normally not a violent man, things had dramatically shifted

in the last year. The VP lived with renewed purpose, and nothing

would interfere with the task he was given. It was a revolution of

sorts in which he played a vital role, although the credit would be

doled on someone else. An unsuspecting pawn who would take

the fall for Ryzer’s genius.

There were several missions concurrently planned, with all

of them intricately balanced upon each other, like a complicated

game of Jenga. But he felt his mission was the most important

piece in the puzzle. Without this next strategic move, all the other

plans would fail.

And they could not fail.

A light rapping at the back door made his heart skip a beat:

three consecutive taps, a pause and then one last tap. The code they

had agreed upon. Vice President Ryzer unlocked the deadbolt and

ushered in a tall woman with a floral-patterned shawl draped like

a cowl, meant to keep her face obscured. But once the door was

closed and the lock reengaged, she unravelled the cloth, revealing

a f lawless, cream-coloured complexion, and blond hair scraped

back into an austere bun taut enough to pull the wrinkles smooth

around her stone-cold blue eyes.

Through plump lips coated in blood red lipstick, the woman

greeted the VP and took a seat by a tower of liquor boxes. He

stood awkwardly in front of her. Not only her beauty caused him

to feel inferior, but her demeanour and level of power within the

organization reminded him that he was less important than he

had foolishly deigned to think, and if one tiny error occurred, he

would be squashed beneath her Louboutins with zero remorse.

Someone else would swiftly take his place.

“Do you have the money?” the VP asked. He remained standing

in the vain attempt to puff up his stature, looking down his nose at

her for a change, at least in a physical sense. The woman was cruel

and bitter, even before they “changed”—a friend of her father’s,

he had known her for years, witnessed many a tirade—yet it was

impossible to deny his attraction for the blond, even though he

feared her. Or perhaps that’s what added to his desire. He wanted

her in the way that a man wants what he can’t have. His handsome,

cleanshaven face, expensive black suit, and silk tie, thick, wavy black

hair perfectly arranged, were all lost on the woman. She couldn’t be

less interested in him. That snake would not be charmed.

She was there for one reason. Complete the mission.