Kingsman Agent Whiskey Novels & Stories

Fantastic and the wooden counter. Black seemed to be able to cover his soulmate entirely by his physical presence and to hide her this way of the indiscrete glances. He brought his face to her neck and took a deep breath. His wolf had been howling in his mind the moment she had walked away, and he had not bothered to apologize to his hosts. "A Glenlivet,18 Years, Single Malt, Whiskey...no ice." Bianca could feel chills run down her skin where his breath caressed her.

He replied, standing up. “Hmm..” I mused, following his movement with my eyes. “I’m sure you get this question a lot in your line of work, but do you drink whiskey, Hazel?” "I don't drink whiskey." I answered, trying to ignore the flutter in my heart. The way he said my name, I’d never heard anything sexier than that. "Hmm." He took a long, slow sip from his glass, then set it down. I followed the movement of his Adam’s apple with my eyes. "That's a shame. A beautiful woman drinking whisky is my weakness."

He looked rugged, out of place, and utterly commanding. As if sensing their gaze, the man lifted a heavy crystal tumbler of amber liquid—neat whiskey, by the look of it. He didn't smile; he merely inclined his head in a slow, deliberate acknowledgment and gave a single, devastating wink. "Who does he think he is?" Chloe hissed, her face contorting into a mask of practiced disgust. "He looks like he just walked off a boat. The nerve of some people, trying to buy their way into a conversation with a Blackwood."

" He's gonna walk up to you. He's among those horny fuckers being entertained by the strippers. He's wearing a white dress shirt. You know what to do from there." " Seen." I whisper and sit on the counter. I turn to look at Sinister as our eyes meet. I smirk and look away and snap my fingers at the bartender. " Whiskey , please." I tell the bartender. He nods and leaves. " Are you in here?" I whisper to the earpiece. " No. But I'm watching you. I've got my men scattered around. You'll be fine." I nod.

His laid-back demeanor can't deceive me one bit. “Ray, you’ve been keeping that Macallan whiskey hidden again, haven't you?” Derek asks with a mischievous glint of a smile shining in his eyes. “I wasn’t hiding it.” I respond and glare at Caleb as he pulls out that Macallan bottle of my favorite expensive whiskey that I was saving for… well, not this. A grin is plastered on Caleb's face when he turns around with the bottle of whiskey already in his hand and dumps it onto my desk....

"That's a two-hundred-dollar bottle." "Then it's a good thing I'm not buying the whole bottle." His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "I'm Josh, by the way,Josh Anderson. And you look like you could use something better than rotgut whiskey to drown whatever demons you're fighting tonight." "Zara Williams," I said, accepting the crystal tumbler he offered. The whiskey was amber gold and smelled like heaven. "And what makes you think I'm fighting demons?"

She was about to say more when two wild trucks caught everyone’s attention. Two Ford Rangers were driving in the field’s direction, both vehicles accessorized and lifted. Two men came down from the first truck, bridging boxes of Jameson Whiskey. One announced, “Jameson whiskey for Mister Kean’s birthday.” A tall man with curly blond locks stepped down on the second vehicle. He wore a brown coat that reached his thighs and fitted denim jeans down his long legs. He was good-looking, arrived in style, and carried himself confidently. Instantly, all eyes were on Alexander Jenkins.

A minute later, my cell buzzed with the reply. “Yes.” My mom told me. I smirked. I was happy I found one of the fuckers who did that to my mom. I gave a slight nod to Axel who smirked back. “Hey, what whiskey do you have?” Axel asked him when he came over. “We’ve got Irish, Japanese, Scotch, Single Malts, Rye and Bourbon. What do you like?” “Johnny Walker.” He told him. “Coming right up. And for you?” he asked, “Bourbon, don’t care what one.” I told him. He nodded again.

He used his Scottish accent since his face looked like a Scot, and then he got out with his hands up. "Wait—lad! What did I do wrong?" he acted, shaken up. "Get on your knees!" the man with Eros scowled at him. "Okay! Mate!" He got down and started praying, until a police siren honked at them with guns. "What is this?" Everyone hid their guns. It was undercover agents from the FBI that helped him out. "Officer! I am begging for your help," Whiskey said shakily. "What did the old man do?" Agent 1, a bulky guy, said as he checked on Whiskey.

The fireplace popped, throwing jagged gold light across the floor. "Get me a tequila," I muttered to Dan. "Something strong enough to burn the back of my throat." Dan gave a low, amused huff. "Taking shots of tequila with the amount of steam coming off your shoulders? Do you actually plan to burn the Hawthorne pack to the ground tonight, boss?" "Just get the drink, Dan." He returned with a glass, but changed it to an eighteen-year whiskey. I swirled the liquid amber around the glass, watching the ice melt, but I couldn't bring myself to take a single sip. Ten minutes passed.