Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17773 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 89(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
“On it,” James says before taking off through the snow to the Honda.
I’ve gotta give it to James, he may be goofy and bitchy sometimes, but I’ve never seen someone move across any terrain like he can. There’s ice and snow mounds all over the place, but he looks like he’s running on top of smooth pavement.
John, Simon, and I move up to the brick wall next to the blacked-out window, waiting as we watch James go to work. He’s quick about it too, the front two tires are punctured with his tactical knife and then he stabs the radiator fins twice before jogging back over to us.
Grinning, he says, “That shitter won’t be going far.”
“Let’s move,” I say and then quickly walk to the front door of the Tiger’s Lounge.
Even through all the glass and brickwork, I can hear screaming and shouting.
Yanking the door open, I peek in just in time to see one of the Santas blowing a hole through the front door security guard.
Fuck.
Raising my Glock, I take a second to get a good angle then pull the trigger twice. The first shot rips through the Santa’s neck and the second hits him directly in the head, instantly dropping him to the floor.
Not gonna lie. After all the Christmas shit I’ve been doing at home, popping a cap in Santa’s head gives me a sick kind of satisfaction.
I could do this shit for fun all day.
The thought of grabbing a couple of these fucker’s hats and taking them to the law firm with us brings a grin to my lips.
Yeah, I’m about to let out some Christmas season frustration.
Moving into the building, Simon and Johnathan follow me with James in the rear. None of us have anything stronger than pistols, and I’m hoping to fuck that these assholes don’t either.
“Target one down,” I say over the loud thumping music.
Thank the fucking devil we have the music. It provides us some cover and distraction.
“James,” Simon says and moves over to the wall that’s blocking the view of the bar and stripper stages. “We’ll take the manager’s office.”
“Got it,” James says.
“On me, John,” I say.
We turn the corner and slowly make our way over to the bar where another Santa is hitting the bartender with the butt of his pistol.
John raises his gun to take aim, but I motion for him to stop. Down on the floor, I see the third Santa holding a pistol to the head of one of the strippers.
He isn’t facing me but that doesn’t mean he won’t be soon.
Nodding my head towards the Santa at the bar, I motion for John to go as I make my way over to the guy harassing the poor chick on the floor.
I move quietly and to the side so I don’t alert the girl or the asshole.
I wait for John’s gun to go off before I blow a massive hole through my Santa.
Blood splatters everywhere then the music suddenly stops.
I hear James’s voice come over the speaker system.
“All targets down, who’s ready for lap dances?” James shouts into the mic.
Simon makes his way over to me and shakes his head. “The Santa in the manager’s office took out the manager before we could stop him. I shot him in the gut. We’ll find out if they’re a part of a gang before we kill him.”
Nodding my head, I look down at the weeping girl in front of me. She’s soaked in blood and curled into a ball.
Glancing back at Simon, I ask, “Any idea on what to do with her?”
“Shoot her?” Simon asks without a hint of sarcasm.
John makes his way over to us and shakes his head. “Nah, I’ve got a better idea.”
Bending down, he sweeps the woman up into his arms and winks at me before nodding his head, indicating that we should follow.
Shaking my head, I don’t even want to know what’s in his head as we walk towards the DJ booth.
John makes a bunch of shushing noises to calm and quiet the stripper. She’s still whimpering and sniffling all over John’s poor suit jacket though.
Taking the steps two at a time, he stands the poor girl up in front of James before crackling out in laughter. “Look James! It’s a Christmas miracle! I found you a wife!”
James takes one look at the girl and blanches, turning pale white.
Racing past us, he yells, “Fuuuck Yooou!”
“Well, that wasn’t very nice of him,” John says with a snicker and guides the stripper to the empty D.J. chair.
I grin as I turn away to head back down to the bar for a drink.
Grabbing a bottle of beer off the bar counter, I glance down at the two dead Santas laying in the puddles of their own blood on the floor.
“You should have left all the hoe, hoe, hoes alone, stupid motherfuckers.”