Chapter 62

At 2 a.m.. Quintessa had been waiting at the underground parking lot with Manny for a solid four hours.

Manny was yawning relentlessly, his eyes bloodshot and weary, “Quinn, you sure about this to? Maybe Jerome’s not showing tonight, huh?”

Quintessa seemed immune to fatigue, her face betraying not a hint of tiredness. She glanced at her watch, “Wel give it another hour. If he’s a no–show, we’ll bail,”

Violet had sold Quintessa a hot tip about Jerome’s whereabouts, gleaned from a seasoned entertainment journalist friend, Jerome usually spent his weekends at Zenobia’s place until the wee hours, and then retreated to his apartment. And tonight was Saturday.

They were staking out the parking lot beneath Jerome’s apartment, the most likely place he’d hit first on his way

home.

Half an hour later, headlights swept the entrance. Quintessa nudged Manny awake, “Showtimet

Manny snapped to attention, instantly alert.

Quintessa reminded him. “Remember what I told you, get the clear shot, but keep my face out of it*

“Got it. Don’t worry, Quinn. I was the ace of my college photo club.*

She donned her cap and shades, and stepped out of the car.

Jerome killed the engine and stepped out; the door was barely shut when he heard a voice from behind, “Late night, huh? Where’ve you been gallivanting?”

a car, her hair cut into a chic bob. She wore a crisp white sundress with a short black leather jacket studded at the

Jerome’s otherwise stoic façade. Beneath his scholarly

toward her, “Decided to come

a word from her, his mood took a plummet, and he was beginning to think he’d miscalculated. But now here

once–over, “Just checking which little vixen lured my

of his shirt, feeling desire rise at the sight of

if that’s what you

out, she questioned, “I

how good her skills in bed are. As long as you are willing, she’s nothing to

disgust and the urge to kick where it hurt most, Quintessa tilted her head, and her hand laid on his

her scent deeply, “Can’t sleep because of

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Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Quintessa had been waiting at the underground parking lot with Manny for a solid

yawning relentlessly, his eyes bloodshot and weary. “Quinn, you sure about this tip? Maybe

fatigue, her face betraying not a hint of tiredness. She glanced at her watch, “We’ll give it another hour.

a seasoned entertainment journalist friend. Jerome usually spent his weekends at Zenobia’s place until the wee hours, and then retreated to

staking out the parking lot beneath Jerome’s apartment, the most likely

home.

hour later, headlights swept the entrance. Quintessa nudged

to attention,

you, get the clear shot, but keep

Don’t worry, Quinn, I was the ace

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