Jude stood in his temporary quarters on the fifth floor, pulling the heavy zipper shut on a dark, reinforced leather travel bag.
He had barely adjusted the strap over his shoulder when the heavy oak door flew open with a loud, violent thud, slamming hard against the interior drywall.
Before Jude could even turn around completely, Nick charged across the room, his face twisted in raw fury, his right fist swinging straight for Jude's jawline with the full momentum of his weight.
Jude didn't flinch. With a fluid, effortless shift of his posture, his hand shot up, his fingers locking around Nick's wrist inches from his nose, completely absorbing the impact.
"I knew it!" Nick roared, his voice trembling with unchecked rage, his muscles straining against Jude's iron grip. "I knew you weren't some harmless, corporate bastard! A Beaumont... an heir to an international syndicate, standing right inside our headquarters for a month!"
