Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I reach in and grab a few hundred-dollar bills.
“Harrison!” Bianca hisses.
“I’ll gladly come back and give this guy twice as much as we’ve taken once we’ve gotten the hell out of here.” I stuff the bills into my pants pocket. “For now, we need a little cash if we’re going to get around. We—”
The shower turns off.
Fuck.
I gesture to the door. “Now!” I whip it open and the two of us clear the room before its occupant can discover us. We run down the hall and I pound the elevator button so hard that its tiny plastic casing cracks.
I’m not sure what our next move is, but we have about thirty seconds before we hit the lobby.
Operating solely on instinct, I head to the front desk. It’s manned by someone different from when we checked in, a young man with medium-length dark hair.
He smiles as we approach him, but there’s a tenseness to his face. Probably caused by the fact that Bianca is still in a bathrobe.
One crisis at a time.
“Hello, sir. Ma’am. Are you locked out of your room?”
“No. Nothing like that. Actually, we’re the couple Mr. Rose just gave a complimentary upgrade to. We wanted to see him and thank him in person for his generosity.”
“Of course.” The young man rakes his gaze over me, his eyes narrowed. “I understand perfectly.”
I hold back an eye roll. Mr. Rose probably brings call boys to this hotel all the time, gives them nice rooms. Of course, I have Bianca with me. I doubt said male escorts have a woman with them. I guess he could be bisexual. He is married with kids, after all.
A three-way with him and Bianca is the last thing on my mind.
“Mr. Rose is in his office.” The receptionist picks up a phone. “I’ll give him a ring and let him know to expect you.”
I hold up a hand. “Please don’t. We’re hoping to surprise him.” I add a wink to seal the meaning of my words.
He swallows. “Oh. Of course. Go right ahead then, sir.”
I’ll have to take a long shower after all this.
We walk over to the mahogany door. I take a deep breath to center myself and then open it.
Rose is at his desk on the phone. He drops his jaw as we walk in, and Bianca quickly runs to the other side of the office and whips the phone cord out of the wall.
“What… What are you doing here?” he gasps out.
I don’t answer him. I leap across the room, soar over his desk with my hands outstretched, and wrap them around his neck. He coughs, sputters, and his eyes start to bulge out of their sockets.
But before I can get him unconscious, he kicks me in the balls.
Oh fuck!
Pain. Such fucking pain! It shoots through my whole body.
I hunch over on the ground in agony.
He scrambles to his feet. But before he can hurt me again, Bianca smacks him across the face with the marble bust of his father.
I get up in time to see blood gushing out of his nose as he turns on Bianca. No way in hell is he going to lay a finger on her. Despite the pains still hurdling through my lower body, I get to my feet, throw myself between the two of them, and land a right hook to Rose’s left cheek. Then an uppercut for good measure.
He stumbles back but quickly returns with a punch to my gut. I double over and he lands a kick to the back of my knees, bringing me down again.
The floor is strewn with pens and pieces of stationery. I grab the nearest item to me—a navy-blue fountain pen—and get back to my feet.
Rose is advancing again, but this time I have a weapon.
Before Rose can land another hit, I raise the pen and ram it right into his left eye.
21
BIANCA
I hate the sight of blood.
And this office is now flooded with it.
First from Mr. Rose’s nose, and now from his eye. A blue fountain pen sticks out of it. Rose instinctively grabs at it, but before he can pull it out—and likely his eye along with it—he trips on a three-hole punch on the ground, falls backward, and hits the base of his skull on the side of his desk.
He’s on the ground now. And he’s not moving.
“My God, Harrison.” I walk slowly toward his body. “Is he… Is he dead?”
Harrison kneels and takes his pulse. “No. Just unconscious. The blow to his skull plus the loss of blood. But he needs immediate medical attention if he’s going to live or have any chance of regaining sight in his left eye.”
I swallow. “Should we take him to the hospital?”
“Someone should, but it’s not going to be us.” He gets to his feet and offers me his hand. “The two of us need to get the hell out of here before the cops show up. We’ll let someone at the front desk know Rose had an accident or something, and then we’ll get the hell out of here.”