Post by Jester Dreamer Thief on May 19, 2006 20:08:46 GMT -5
Jeryck Siles watched the woman across from him. From what he knew she was an experienced bounty hunter. Her little group comprised of an unusual Scotsman and another moody Indian, much like Sharyn Evistock. Color him surprised upon meeting Evistock, expecting an English woman rather than the half-breed Lakota she turned out to be. Funny, the Evistock Corporation’s Board of Directors didn’t mention the American that held quite a few shares. A sardonic smirk formed. ‘Black sheep’ of the family was she? He’d thought originally it was just a coincidence until the report came back on her.
Now why would an heiress for lack of a better term want to tool around playing cops and robbers? Still, there was no disputing the large sums donated to varied Native American Indian charities. Something Evistock Corp. had done for years.
‘Guess you’ve got a break now that this bit of business is done. Thank you for assistance, Evistock. You’re little group has some talent.’
Sharyn arched a brow at the man. Why in the blue hell was he talking, let alone complementing them even if it sounded condescending. A curt nod from her, really hating the way he referred to her as ‘Evistock’. Not that she was ashamed of her name, nor family. It was simply a name she’d left behind, a family left behind. She was now simply Sharing Tears of the Lakota. Sharyn, a bounty hunter, engaged to a Cheyenne Chief. A long way from the assassin for The Shadow Guardians she started as so long ago. Canting her head back she wondered what the Guardians were up to, how they were fairing as well as those left behind on Krodyn Vex’s lands.
‘….. put on every year by James Evistock.’
The woman damn near snapped every bone in her neck as she whipped her attention back to Siles.
‘What?’
Siles arched a brow at her. Another smirk Shar was itching to knock off his face.
‘JD. Evistock, CEO of Evistock Corp., he holds a festival every year in Sheffield at some old castle the family owns. I’m sure you know about it. Was just asking if you were planning on attending.’
‘No.’
Her answer came in a clipped tone as she shifted to the right picking up her gear. The van had stopped and she couldn’t get out of there and away from Siles fast of enough. James D. Evistock. Holy Hell. That was enough to make a chill go down her spine. Stalking across the small distance to Hone’he and Dair she tossed her bag in the back and climbed in. A half smile to them and nod.
‘Lets get the hell outta here and go home.’
Now why would an heiress for lack of a better term want to tool around playing cops and robbers? Still, there was no disputing the large sums donated to varied Native American Indian charities. Something Evistock Corp. had done for years.
‘Guess you’ve got a break now that this bit of business is done. Thank you for assistance, Evistock. You’re little group has some talent.’
Sharyn arched a brow at the man. Why in the blue hell was he talking, let alone complementing them even if it sounded condescending. A curt nod from her, really hating the way he referred to her as ‘Evistock’. Not that she was ashamed of her name, nor family. It was simply a name she’d left behind, a family left behind. She was now simply Sharing Tears of the Lakota. Sharyn, a bounty hunter, engaged to a Cheyenne Chief. A long way from the assassin for The Shadow Guardians she started as so long ago. Canting her head back she wondered what the Guardians were up to, how they were fairing as well as those left behind on Krodyn Vex’s lands.
‘….. put on every year by James Evistock.’
The woman damn near snapped every bone in her neck as she whipped her attention back to Siles.
‘What?’
Siles arched a brow at her. Another smirk Shar was itching to knock off his face.
‘JD. Evistock, CEO of Evistock Corp., he holds a festival every year in Sheffield at some old castle the family owns. I’m sure you know about it. Was just asking if you were planning on attending.’
‘No.’
Her answer came in a clipped tone as she shifted to the right picking up her gear. The van had stopped and she couldn’t get out of there and away from Siles fast of enough. James D. Evistock. Holy Hell. That was enough to make a chill go down her spine. Stalking across the small distance to Hone’he and Dair she tossed her bag in the back and climbed in. A half smile to them and nod.
‘Lets get the hell outta here and go home.’