Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I have no option but to steal what I need. The question is, random person or breaking and entering? It’ll be a whole lot harder to get all the money I need from an individual, but stranger things have happened. I’d rather take my chances with one guy than with alarms and surveillance cameras.
It doesn’t take me long to decide where to go. There’s a hotel I’ve heard about where a lot of shit goes down. I’m sure whatever trick my mom had tonight spends time there. People go there to fuck, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they go there to buy pussy or whatever it is they’re looking for.
A thrill of excitement jolts me, the familiar tingle and rush of adrenaline that always courses through me when I’m about to do something like this. It makes me feel alive, invincible, like I’m in control of my life in a way I don’t often feel.
I don’t park in the lot, instead finding a spot down the dark road. The hotel is in the middle of nowhere, which I suppose is the point. My car is inconspicuous, with a couple of other vehicles on the side of the street. I’m in front of them, so it’ll be easier to get away.
I climb out and make sure my gun is loaded before stuffing it in my jeans. I’m already wearing all black because most of the time I do, but I tug on a hoodie from the back seat to cover my tats, then stuff the mask and gloves in the front pocket.
I try to keep myself in the shadows as I make my way there. The neon sign reads THE DOVE, but some of the lights are out. There are about eight cars out front. If I don’t find what I need, I can always ransack those later.
My gaze darts around the building, looking for cameras. There seems to be one on the left side of the building but not on the right—the mount still there as though it broke and they didn’t take the time to replace it.
Jackpot.
Keeping myself out of the view of the working camera, I tuck myself in a dark corner on the right side of the building and wait—for someone to come, to go, someone who looks like they might have cash on them. Someone coming is probably a better option than someone going because they’ll have money for whatever they’re here to buy.
I’m not stupid enough to think this place will be my only hit tonight, but I’m hoping to get lucky. I ignore the first two people to arrive, thankful there aren’t many streetlights out here, just a few along the front of the building. The first guy is my height, probably just under six feet, but he’s at least three of me in width. I’m long and lean, scrappy as all hell, but I don’t feel like testing my boundaries with this monster tonight. The second guy…I’m not sure why I don’t go for him. His car is in worse shape than mine, so he probably doesn’t have much cash on him.
It takes a good thirty minutes for another car to arrive, and I immediately perk up. It’s a BMW that’s nicer and more expensive than anything I’ve ever owned. The guy inside looks about my age, with red hair that goes up and backward like he’s run his hands through it so much, it’s stuck that way. He’s hot, from what I can tell, but also looks like a spoiled rich kid, which makes me hate him on sight, but a spoiled rich kid is exactly what I need.
With quick hands, I tug the mask over my head and face, then get my gloves in place, hiding my black-painted nails.
Rich Kid gets out of the car. He’s shorter than me, thin, but with firm muscle. He’s wearing crisp jeans and a button-up shirt, as though it’s not freezing balls outside—not that I’m dressed much warmer in my hoodie.
I wonder what his rich mommy and daddy think about their little boy coming to a dirty-ass hotel to get his dick wet, or whatever the hell he’s doing here.
He puts a vape to his lips, takes a drag, then starts walking away from me.
I have to get this done and do it quickly before he gets too close to the camera.
I hurry out from behind the building, trying to be as quiet as I can, heart thudding, adrenaline fueling me in the best way. When I’m a couple of steps away, he turns around, but my arm’s already raised, gun pointing at his head. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t cry out, doesn’t look scared or cower, which makes worry trickle down my spine. This is not how someone like him is supposed to react to being held up.