Letting go of the now unconscious man whose nose will need some serious surgery, I turn to my last victim. He’s maybe around fifty, with thinning brown hair and a round face I recognize seeing on the news. If I am not wrong, his latest altruistic endeavor was a donation to a group home in an Eastern European country.
“Imagine the backlash if the public found out you hang out with drug lords.” I just look at him as he shakes like a leaf, the vibrations flowing into me through where my hand is still clutching his neck. “Or that you want a cut of their pie.”
“Please don’t kill me,” he begs, spit and snot dripping down his face. “I’m new to this, I swear! They only approached me recently.”
I don’t care about that or about the way his conscience rationalizes and justifies all the bad and illegal things he does on a daily basis. “Who are they? And tell me about the tests and where they take place.”
He swallows hard, eyes watering as I tighten my hold. “They didn’t say exactly! I’m new, I told you! But uh, Claire Streiss is one of them and the tests are for the drug. That’s all I know. She was going to take me there and show me after the party.”
“There,where?”
He winces, clearly weighing whether to tell me the truth or lie. “The residences’ deck! That’s all I know, I swear! Only she and a few others know the exact locations of the access points to the labs. Ali said they always blindfold him before he goes down there.”
I peek at the two downed men. Ali must be the one who was stupid enough to threaten me.
“Please, let me go now! I promise I won’t tell anyone!”
My attention snaps back to the blabbering billionaire who keeps begging me for his life. My phone alarm goes off too, telling me that right now I should be carrying a tray of drinks past the bodyguards guarding the stairs to the second floor and not chatting with trash in a smoking room.
I consider that and my options. Clearly, things aren’t going according to plan, but as much as I hate when that happens, we also have a lead now, and the night isn’t even over yet.
Angling my hand so I have a better grip, I pinch the billionaire’s carotid artery in that way they taught us during training. It’s the quickest and most effective way to make someone pass out. By the time my victim catches up to what’s happening, it’s already too late, and within seconds, he’s out cold.
Now, what the fuck do I do with the three unconscious men?
Even though it’s dark with only dim light making it in from the corridor, once your eyes are used to the gloom, the pile of sleeping people becomes immediately obvious. So I can’t just leave them like this or it won’t be long before someone discovers them and informs security. A lockdown is not unlikely, and then it’s just a matter of waking them up and getting my description before all hell breaks loose.
It’s the last thing Hex and I need on our heads.
Down the hall, chairs scrape against the floor as the music pauses and a DJ announces something. I don’t care about what he says, but as the music restarts and cheers erupt, I figure a way out of my tight spot. It’s not ideal and it will only buy us so much time, but I intend to get to the bottom of this tonight, or we might not get another chance.
Making sure no one is headed to the smoking area, I slip out and drag a few of the vacant chairs over from the parlor. Whatever the DJ announced has everyone’s focus on the stage where two dancers sway their glitter-covered bodies, and I use that to my advantage. Once I’ve plopped the three unconscious men on the chairs in a way that makes them look less passed-out than they are, I place a bottle of whiskey on the floor in front of them, and check the time. I’m running five minutes late.
Quicker than an Olympic sprinter, I drop by the bar to pick up the tray of drinks, and head upstairs to the second floor, hoping that Hex hasn’t turned into a damsel in distress just yet.
28
Hex
Aranislate.Butthat’s fine, and I bet he’d be proud to know that I’ve been holding the front like a champ for the past five minutes.
Pretending I needed to pee as soon as we arrived was a stroke of pure genius, but it can only buy me so much time. It’s not that I wasn’t confident in dealing with Mrs. Lynx myself, it’s just that there was something a bit off as soon as we walked in.
The air was heavy with anticipation and while everyone smiled and wanted to shake hands with me, I got this icky feeling in my stomach, kind of like the one I had when Mrs. Lynx was stroking my head earlier.
So I bailed, temporarily.
I take out my phone and calmly text the love of my life.
Me:WHERE R U??
Future Husband:There was a complication. I’ve picked up the drinks and will be there soon. Stall.
I take a selfie, grinning at him from the bathroom where I’ve sat on the gilded lid of a toilet.
Me:What do you think I’ve been doing? Duh?? I’ve got this, just get your sexy ass here.
Future Husband:Fuck. OK.
