Where were they?
He took another drink, slower this time, letting the glass linger at his lips. His fingers were long and elegant wrapped around the crystal, his suit jacket open, his posture relaxed but coiled, like a predator waiting.
His tie was loose enough to show the column of his throat. His shirt was fitted, stretching across his shoulders when he moved. The dim bar light caught the sharp line of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble, the way his throat moved when he swallowed.
He didn't look at anyone. Didn't need to. He knew people were looking at him, the women across the room, the men sizing him up, the staff who recognized the name. But his focus was on the door. On the two people who should have walked through it by now.
He finished his drink in one long swallow, the ice clinking against the glass. Set it down. Signaled for another.
The bartender refilled it quickly, professionally, not daring to make small talk.
