Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108563 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
After escaping through the side exit of the bar, I step out into a different portion of the hotel lobby just in time to watch the elevator door close.
Fucking moron. How obvious could one person be?
Making my way toward the elevator, I keep my gaze locked on the numbers, telling me exactly where the elevator is stopping and when I see it pause at level three, I push through the door beside the elevator shaft, taking me up the stairs.
Now, would I have preferred to have an array of weapons with me for this? Sure. But are they necessary for me to get the job done? Fuck no. I’ve always prided myself on being a resourceful man, so I’m sure I’ll figure it out when the time comes.
Reaching level three, I push out into the main hallway and pause, listening to the sounds around me. There’s not a soul in sight, but Graves doesn’t strike me as a smart man, and just on cue, I hear a high-pitched woman’s scream tearing through the hallway.
Bingo.
Not a moment later, the woman is launched into the hallway with such force she stumbles right across the small walkway and slams into the door directly opposite her room before crumbling to the ground. I turn on my heel and begin stalking toward her, but she’s on her feet and sprinting toward me in her desperate flee to escape Graves.
“Which room?” I demand as she booms toward me, keeping my head down to avoid her seeing my face.
“309.”
The woman doesn’t stop to see what I’m going to do, just keeps running until she reaches the stairs, which means I only have a few minutes before the front desk calls the cops. But I won’t need a few minutes. I’ll only need seconds.
Making my way down to 309, a sense of elation pulses through my veins. Don’t get me wrong, I kill men every day, finding the hardest targets on the planet and taking them out, and while it’s exhilarating, the chase is different. This right here is purely for fun, and I find myself giddy with excitement, just like I used to when I was a teenager making my first kill.
Reaching the door Graves just tossed the woman out of, I settle to the left and knock. “Housekeeping,” I call out in a cheery tone.
Naturally, there’s no response, and all I can do is grin, barely able to contain the thrill pulsing through me. I knock again, this time a little slower. “Turndown service? Fresh towels?”
“You don’t want to fuck with me,” Graves roars.
“Uhhh . . . yeah. Actually, I think I do,” I tell him, enjoying the banter. After all, I don’t often get to indulge in these situations. “Why don’t you be a gem and open up the door? I promise, I’ll make it quick. You’ll barely feel a thing.”
BANG! BANG!
The bullets whiz past my face at speeds my eyes can’t possibly try to track before plunging into the wall on the opposite side of the hallway. “Well, shit,” I laugh, glancing back at the door Graves shamefully hides behind. “I thought we were going to be friends.”
I quickly assess the door and the two massive holes staring back at me, and with their positioning, the holes might have compromised the integrity of the door just enough for me to be able to kick my way through it.
Figuring that I’ve got nothing to lose, I make my move, quickly stepping in front of the door and slamming my boot into the fractured wood. The door flies off its hinges, the majority of it splintering into tiny pieces while I race forward, not allowing my momentum to slow even a fraction.
Graves stands at the opposite side of the room, his gun locked and loaded before him. Only he wasn’t prepared for me to burst through, and his response time is far too slow.
He pulls the trigger twice more, trying to track my movements across the room as I run toward him. BANG! BANG! I sidestep, anticipating his shots and avoiding the bullets like a ghost in the night, and I don’t stop until my body slams into his, my big hand wrapping around his throat.
I disarm him in a flash, the gun quickly becoming mine. His eyes are wide, staring at me as though he can’t comprehend how I managed to get inside the room.
I slam him against the wall, the damage to his neck and face from Crimson Rain’s sharp brass knuckles staring back at me. He’s a fucking mess. He deserves to die just so that the rest of us don’t need to look at him a second longer. If you think about it, I’m doing him a favor by ending his miserable life.
There won’t be long before the woman who occupies this room makes it down to the lobby and calls for help, so I do what I can to make this quick. “It’s a real shame, you know,” I start. “If you had simply opened the door like I asked, we could have done this in a much more humane way.”