Meeting Jones

KACELA

The contract came back quickly, and even though I felt that something was off with Stephen Jones, I signed my portion and had Emmett file it. I knocked off early for the day, ordered some takeout and went upstairs to pack. Emmett had looked up the average temperature of the town I was going to be staying in and it looked like hoodies, leggings and jeans were going to suffice.

Three flights and twelve hours of travel time later found me in the back seat of a car Jones had sent for me. It was a three-hour drive from the airport to the lumber mill. I was going to meet Jones first, then be taken to my little apartment that Emmett had procured for me. I was ready for a shower and a nap; traveling is my least favorite part of my job.

“Are we almost there?” I leaned forward to talk to the driver. So far our trip had been very quiet. He had started to make small talk, but I discouraged it and just watched the scenery as it sped by. I found it exhausting to try to talk to someo