Five minutes to go.
Ryan tried to relax into the softness of the lobby chair and sized up the York Hotel. Ritzy. Too nice and classy for something so sordid. He’d prayed all the way over it was a practical joke, and no one would show up, but the note sounded too sinister even for one of his jackass friends.
He tapped his foot, fiddled with his watch.
Ah, to hell with relaxing. That sure wasn't going to happen. He pushed himself up from the leather and straightened his tie. Last chance to go to the bathroom, splash some cold water, and comb his hair into unflappable cool.
But when he stood up, he locked eyes with a man near the elevator. Holy shit. It was going to be blackmail then.
The guy was good. As soon as he spotted Ryan, he strode over with a big shit-eating grin and his arm extended like they’d known each other for years.
“Ryan! You made it. That’s great.” The blackmailer nodded to the lobby chair and Ryan fell back into the soft leather. The man took a seat opposite. “Sorry about the note. I figured sticking it under your windshield wiper was the best way.”
Ryan looked nervously about the lobby and cleared his throat. He glanced at his Rolex again, aware that he was late for an appointment with an important corporate client, and his BMW was parked on a meter.
“Check this out.” The man reached into his pocket and took out a thick envelope. “I brought some photographs.” Ryan’s pulse raced and he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. “You at a Sinead O'Connor concert, 1992. Your keynote speech at the Young Democrats Convention, 1986. Your . . . ”
Ryan winced. The bastard was ruthless.
Opening: Anonymous.....Continuation: iago