Page 15 of Vicious Deception
“No,” I mumble, making a show of turning the key upside down and trying to insert it into the lock.
The guy sighs. “What room number are you?”
“This one.” I try again and kick the door when it doesn’t budge.
“Listen man, you’ve got the wrong room.” He eases his way in between me and the door and crosses his arms. “Move the fuck on.”
“Shit, I’ve got the wrong key.” I fumble with my jacket, hoping I’m making enough of a commotion.
Just as I’m beginning to worry that my plan might not work, I hear the door unlocking, and then it opens an inch or two. An annoyed, large man is on the other side.
“Hey, why the hell are you in my room?” I demand as I reach into my jacket and grab my gun. “I’ve got my key right here.”
They exchange an annoyed glance, probably preparing to remove me by force. I take the split second of distraction to pull out my gun and shoot both of them in quick succession.
They hit the ground, and I grab the ski mask from my pocket and pull it over my head. Shouts sound from one of the rooms as I kick open the door and flip the light switch on.
When I step into the room, my heart sinks. I was hoping for a loveless marriage type situation, but apparently, my luck has run out. The third man—the husband—has his wife backed up to the wall on the far side of their bed. He’s shielding her with his body, weaponless and wide-eyed.
“Who sent you?” he demands.
“Move out of the way,” I snap. With the amount of noise I’ve made, I need to get the hell out of here.
He presses his wife farther into the wall. “You’re not touching her.”
“You can step aside and remain unharmed, or we can do this the hard way.” Moving closer, I cock the gun. “I have no problems with hurting you, too.”
“No!” The cry doesn’t come from him—it comes from his wife. She shoves him out from in front of her, her face stricken. “Don’t hurt—”
The shot echoes in the room, so loud my ears ring. As I watch her body drop to the ground, my stomach twists. That’s the type of thing Wren would’ve done. Mere weeks ago, shediddo that, when Andrew threw that knife at me.
“No,” the man yells. He grabs his wife as she crumples to the floor, but it’s already too late. She’s gone.
Wren.I stumble backward, blinking rapidly to clear my vision.
It’s not her. She’s safe.
The sound of distant sirens cut through the air. It snaps me back into reality, to the sobbing man cradling his dead wife in his arms. Without another glance, I bolt out the door, careful not to touch it and leave fingerprints behind.
Axel still has the car running. He takes off before I’ve even shut the passenger side door. “You couldn’t’ve gone any faster?” he growls.
“Seriously?” I spit out. “I wasn’t even in there for two minutes.”
I don’t hear his retort. My mind is stuck, replaying those few seconds over and over again. The way he refused to let me near her. How she jumped in front of him. The terror on her soft features—but also the love.
When Rhett, Ol, and I decided to start taking jobs, we set a couple rules for ourselves. The first is that we wouldn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve it. What was the point in avenging Sammy if we were going to end up as heartless as Holloway in the end?
For the most part, we’ve maintained that promise to each other. We’ve always been picky about which hit jobs we accept. But now, I don’t have a choice. Of course I don’t know who that woman was, but I have a feeling she didn’t deserve to die like that.
I’m not sure how long it takes for me to pull myself out of my downspiral. When I resurface, I realize we’re not heading back to Ludo’s mansion. I have a general idea of where the motel was, and I recognize a few buildings as we drive past. We’re heading in the opposite direction of Ludo’s home.
My mouth opens, a question on my tongue, but then I think better of it. Axel hasn’t given me any information tonight other than what I’ve needed to know. I’ll probably learn more by keeping my mouth shut and my eyes wide open.
Once we’re outside the city limits, Axel pulls into an abandoned gas station. There’s a white van on the far end of the parking lot with the words “Philadelphia Commercial Hood & Fire Systems” painted on the side.
That’s odd.
“For fuck’s sake,” Axel grumbles as he pulls up closer to the van. “Does no one know how to be discreet anymore?”