Page 5 of The Darkest Hour

The agency where I used to be employed.

Entirely too eager, Paris took the old passports and credit cards from my hand, but his eyes widened slightly when he saw the final item I handed over.

The location was worth millions, given that only six people in the world knew it.

It was dangerous information indeed.

B.R.S. had been around for hundreds of years, orchestrating some of the most famous assassinations in history.

He slipped the card into his jacket pocket. “You should consider laying low for a few years. That bounty on your head isn't going away anytime soon, and. . .I would never want to hear the news of your death.”

A sad smile spread across my face.

It was a rare moment of sincerity passing between us.

“Thanks, Paris. For everything.”

He took a large gulp of his drink and then set it back on the table. “Take care, Havoc.”

“You too.”

Paris left.

With my new identity in hand, I was ready to face whatever came next.

The island might be hidden, but I was never truly safe.

The waitress returned. “Your room is ready, sir.”

“Thank you.” I rose and towered over her. “And was my request fulfilled.”

The waitress gazed up at me. “Yes, sir. The women are ready.”

“Excellent.” I headed off.

At least today will not be the day I die.

Deeper Throat

Havoc

The waitress guided me down a dark, lavish hallway, adorned with black velvet curtains.

My footsteps were hushed by the lush red carpet beneath.

An eager excitement spread through me.

It was a slow and sensual fire that seemed to sync perfectly with the rhythm of my heartbeats.

Still. . .as I walked down the lavish hallway, a slight prickle of unease crept up my spine, making me glance over my shoulder, though the corridor remained empty.

A shadow flickered in the corner of my eye, but when I turned to look, there was nothing but the velvet curtains swaying gently.

Had someone been there?

Or was I just being paranoid?

Soon, the waitress stopped in front of a large gold door and turned to me. “Your room, sir.”