Excerpt from Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Excellent," Vance Gilchrist tells him. "I see someone's gotten the message that Reading Is Fundamental." He gives the bodyguard a thin smile. Usually Gilchrist prefers an easygoing approach, but sometimes playing the jerk gets better results. And it is always more fun.

He puts out his hand for the ID but the bodyguard holds it close.

"What are you going to do, press it in your diary before you ask me to prom?" Gilchrist demands. "That's my ID. If you have a problem, get on the radio. Otherwise, hand it over."

They stare at each other, bristling like dogs. From behind the principal, Billie speaks up.

"Excuse the interruption, Captain, but I need your order and the copilot's," she says, drawing every man's attention.

The principal turns to look and she gives him a cool smile. "Good evening, sir. Can I get you something from the galley before we take off?" She is inches from him and he steps back to take a better look at all five and a half feet of her. The uniform, dark grey and severe, does her the favor of showing off a fair bit of shadowed cleavage and a knee he wants to get to know better.

He returns the smile with his lips but his eyes are cold and small. "Vodka," he tells her. "On the rocks, and no cheap shit. I pay for the good stuff."

"Of course, sir," she says, holding his gaze a moment longer than necessary. "Would you care to take your seat? My colleague is preparing a selection of snacks and dinner will be served within an hour of takeoff."

She holds out her arm, indicating the cabin behind her. The bodyguard makes a noise of protest, but the principal waves him off with a few choice words in Bulgarian. Billie leads the way to the first row of leather armchairs. The secretary has already taken a seat in the second row, wiping at the rain-spotted calfskin case with a towel Helen provides. Natalie is on her tiptoes, struggling to close an overhead locker while the second bodyguard watches with enthusiasm for the way her breasts bounce against her uniform shirt.

He says something in Bulgarian to the secretary, finishing with a rough laugh, but the secretary prims his mouth. Mary Alice is in the galley, pouring drinks and garnishing small bowls of warm nuts with salt to make the men thirsty. She smooths the uniform skirt over her curvaceous hips and carries out the tray, presenting the refreshments with a smile. She makes certain that the bodyguards have a hefty glass of something cold and encourages them to drink up quickly before the plane takes off.

Excerpted from Killers of a Certain Age by Deanna Raybourn. Copyright © 2022 by Deanna Raybourn. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.