The Private Investigator stood in the center of the conference room, clutching an envelope around his trembling fingers. Beads of sweat formed on his temples despite the cold temperature inside the room.
He faced his clients with a false bravado that worked well with his other clients—but not with the dignified men seated on the comfy leather chair surrounding the long table.
The meeting he thought would turn out simple, turned to be an execution—his own. He walked straight into the lions' den. He wondered if he would even make it out alive without losing a limb or two once he dropped the news that the woman they'd been searching for years just vanished without a trace.
Nine pairs of hawk-sharp eyes pierced through his skin—almost slicing him to pieces. If looks could kill, their laser-sharp eyes should have burned his flesh to ashes.
