Into the Crossfire by Lisa Marie Rice

Author:Lisa Marie Rice [Rice, Lisa Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
Tags: Fiction, Romance, Erotica, Contemporary
ISBN: 9780061808265
Google: E-Cbacs8rw8C
Barnesnoble:
Goodreads: 6953909
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2010-07-27T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8

Outlaw landed at the General Aviation side of Lindbergh Field Airport at 4 P.M., local time, carrying a small arsenal.

Oh, the joys of working for the Masters of the Universe, even if they’d been taken down a notch or ten and their plumage was not as bright and as full as before.

If you were a CEO and earning $170 mil a year instead of $240 mil, it gave you bitching rights down at the club, but it didn’t really make a whole lot of difference.

Included in the contract was reimbursement for private jets to take him anywhere he wanted to go. And the good thing about private jets was that no one was going to ask any questions at all.

He was definitely dressed for the part. He’d studied his clients like it was a mission and just as he could camouflage himself for a sniping mission in the desert or a quick infil into the African jungle, he could pass muster among the rich. He’d learned the camouflage well.

The human eye is overwhelmed by input from the brain. It won’t “see” a sniper in camouflage with mottled, disruptive patterns. It perceives the sniper and his surroundings as a continuum and can’t see the contour around him. A good sniper becomes invisible, whether in mountain terrain or in forests or in the desert.

The same here. He was dressed in the equivalent of his ghillie suit. A ghillie suit of the rich. He was dressed from the skin out in silk, Egyptian cotton, cashmere and new virgin wool. Look the part, be the part. What was underneath the $8,000 suit, a steel-tough, scarred body, couldn’t be seen.

The mission called for speed, otherwise Outlaw would have spent the day at a spa, to achieve that ruddy, pampered look. But there’d been no time.

It had given him enormous pleasure to put his Remington sniper rifle—he would use it only if he had to, to complete the mission—and his Kimber 1911, three magazines, tactical gear, body armor, powerful laser light, lockpick gun, K-bar, karambit knives and vial of acid all in matching Louis Vuitton carry-on hand luggage and briefcase.

No one would think to question it.

It was simply a different world, the world of the über-rich.

They were as invisible in their way as the homeless. Outlaw had been both, under cover. People avert their eyes from the homeless, particularly if you were smart and pissed on yourself. Eau de bum. But they avert their eyes from the super wealthy, too. As if the rich gave off a special glare too bright for the eyes of ordinary people.

Outlaw had the bearing of the super-rich down, too. God knows he’d studied his clients enough and he knew the rules. You could never be too arrogant or act too entitled.

He drew up in a limo, which he exited without giving the driver a second glance. The pilot was at the top of the stairs and Outlaw passed by him with only a terse nod.

It was behavior so expected, he was invisible.

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