In a city built on lies, trust is the deadliest weapon.

Murder in Plain Sight

The Jason Hunter Series Book 3

by Natasha Orme

Genre: Crime Thriller 

In a city built onlies, trust is the deadliest weapon.

A red carpet premiere. A prison riot. A death in one ofLondon’s most exclusive restaurants.

The connection should be impossible, but personal securityspecialist Jason Hunter knows better. Beneath the glamour and power lies anetwork built on greed, control, and secrets worth killing for.

As the pressure builds, Jason is forced into a dangerousgame where every move could be his last. And in a world this corrupt, the truthwon’t set you free… it will get you killed.

Will this fight be his last?

This book can be read as a standalone.

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Wesley Gray

Aurora’s, London

Friday 17thJune

WesleyGray was a very rich man. And that made him very happy.

He’dspent the first 20 years of his life grafting hard, right up until he foundhimself in the world of financial banking. Specifically, as a hedge fundmanager. From there, it was a cutthroat rise to the top. And he wasn’t ashamedto say he’d screwed a fair few people along the way.

Butthat was the beauty of being so filthy rich. He didn’t need to worry about shitlike that anymore.

Hecould do what he wanted, when he wanted. And on Fridays, he wanted to besitting at his regular table at Aurora’s, Soho’s chicest restaurant. Known forits flamboyant history as a former brothel, Aurora’s was an exclusive club forthe mega-rich.

Whichis exactly where he was.

Itwasn’t a big place, but it was still decadent in every way imaginable, withtables spaced far enough apart that multi-million-pound business deals could bediscussed without the risk of being overheard. It was famed for its extensivedrinks list with wines from all around the world, some of which were almost ahundred years old. And the best part? The Michelin-star, world-renowned chef inthe kitchen delivering a fresh menu every week.

Theroom was accented with deep red walls, plush leather chairs, and artwork fromthe latest talent London had to offer. It was full, as it always was. It tookmonths to get a table at Aurora’s.

ButWesley Gray had a permanent reservation.

Secondtable along, at the front. Far enough away from the door that he wouldn’t bedisturbed, but close enough that he didn’t feel like he was at the back of theroom.

Thewaiters all knew him.

Hetipped generously, so they knew to anticipate his every whim.

Nowin his fifties, Wesley Gray had long since retired. If retired was even theright word. Sure, he owned London’s largest investment firm that spannedmultiple continents and had huge offices in all the major worldwide cities; NewYork, Singapore, Hong Kong, and San Francisco to name a few. They were just hisfavourites, and he visited them all regularly, mostly for pleasure, notbusiness.

Turnsout when you’re not chained to a desk from 6am to 9pm, there’s a lot ofpleasure out there in the world. A lot of women who would happily throwthemselves at him. And he didn’t even need to treat them well.

Oppositehim sat his latest conquest. She was tall, long-legged, and had blackchin-length hair. He’d surprised himself really, because normally he was intobig-boobed blondes, but this one had practically fallen into his lap at thefundraiser gala on Tuesday, and she was deliciously submissive in the bedroom.

Thewaiter approached the table to take their order.

“Goodevening, Mr Gray,” he said.

“Myusual wine,” said Wesley Gray. “And we’ll both have the chef’s special.”

Themenu didn’t offer a chef’s special. But it had become a tradition of sorts. Itnormally resulted in a hand-picked dish from the menu with an added flourish.

Thewaiter nodded, jotted the order down onto his little pad and then disappearedfrom the table, taking the menus with him. Another thing he liked about thisplace – it was old school.

Nomobile phones allowed inside. Which meant no cameras. Making it the perfectplace to meet with people you didn’t want to be seen with by the paparazzi. Itdidn’t stop them camping outside almost 24/7, but it did offer a modicum ofprivacy that was impossible to get anywhere else.

Lessthan five minutes later, another waiter appeared at the table carrying thealready uncorked wine. He showed Wesley Gray the bottle and poured it into thewine glasses on the table. Normally, Wesley Gray would be offered the courtesyof tasting the wine before being poured an entire glass.

Heglanced up at the waiter and realised that it wasn’t a face he recognised. Infact, it was a perfectly neutral face, the kind you forgot almost instantlyafter seeing it. The waiter didn’t smile or acknowledge him in any way. Hesimply finished pouring and paused as Wesley Gray brought the wine to his lipsand took a sip. Then the waiter gave a small nod of his head and left.

Frowning,Wesley Gray took another sip of the wine, wondering at the strange behaviour.It tasted perfectly fine. Not that he was a wine connoisseur by any means, hejust liked the feeling of power that came from buying expensive things.

Glancingacross the table, his date looked bored. Her eyes were flitting around theroom, clocking the different faces sitting at the tables, and he immediatelyregretted bringing her. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

Heopened his mouth to speak, but a wave of dizziness overcame him and he grippedthe arm of his chair. His breath came in frantic pants and the glass of wineslipped from his fingers, spilling on the plush cream carpet as he gasped forair.

Desperately,he pushed his chair away from the table in an attempt to stand up, but hecouldn’t breathe. By now, restaurant-goers were turning to stare at thecommotion, and several waiters rushed forward to assist as he fell to thefloor.

“Someonecall an ambulance!” shouted his date, horror written all over her face.

Butit was too late.

WesleyGray was dead.

I’m a book-loving, writing enthusiast. I love to travel,drink tea and pet every animal I meet. When I’m not elbow deep in the writingworld, you can usually find me being silly and having fun with my young son.

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