“I’m going to grab a coffee downstairs,” Henry says, wiping a fresh layer of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.
“I guess I’ll stay in the room with Honey until she’s ready,” I reply.
“Good call,” Henry says, giving me a nod of approval as though he were the one running this operation.
I turn back down the hallway as he starts to walk toward the elevator, only to freeze at the sight of two men with rifles across their chests marching toward us. They’re wearing blue, the color of the local police, and they look like they have some questions to ask us.
“Shit,” I mutter, straightening up and trying to look like an innocent man.
Henry’s hand floats down to his waist and moves behind his back, ready to draw the gun tucked into his tan shorts should things get ugly. I suspect they might with the expressions on the policemen’s faces.
“Where is Honey Dormer?” one of the officers asks as they march toward us, his voice deep and his accent so heavy that I can barely make out his words. I know Honey’s name through any accent, though. How the hell does he know who she is, and what would he want with her?
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I reply as the officers come to a stop two feet in front of Henry and me.
“Do not play games with us, sir. You will hand over the woman, or you will be shot,” he says.
“Fat chance,” I reply.
“Excuse me?” he asks, raising his voice and bringing his hands up to his rifle. “Did you just say -”
Henry’s draw is faster than mine is. He fires off four shots, double-tapping each officer and bringing them to the ground with impressive speed and accuracy. He may have saved us from interrogation, but we’re in a world of trouble now, and we need to get the fuck out of this hotel.
I hear small footsteps coming from my room, and Honey bursts through the door, wearing only a white cotton bathrobe. Her face is wrought with anxiety and confusion, but she barely glances at the men shot dead on the floor. Instead, she looks up at me, sighing in relief that I’m still alive.
“Get back into the room and get dressed,” I order.
“What’s going on?” She asks, now looking toward the uniformed men lying on the blood-soaked carpet. It’s soggy like the grass after a storm, but the pools of liquid are deep crimson instead of murky brown.
“Just… get inside. Someone knows you’re here,” I say, faltering for a moment as I try to make sense of this.
Henry rubs his chin, holstering his pistol. “The Dormer Mafia is more well-known than we thought. That or someone ratted us out.”
As Honey slips back into the room, I walk up to the bodies, turning one over with my foot so that I can search through his pockets. “Something is definitely going on here, and I’m going to find out what it is. Someone must have called these men here. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“A traitor,” Henry says, almost looking excited at the prospect of digging through our ranks to find the rat.
“Indeed,” I say. “A traitor.”
I look toward Henry, suspicious of him now. I don’t know him well, and he tries awfully hard to appear loyal. At the same time, it would be bizarre for him to shoot his own men. He’d be better off turning the gun to me and blowing my brains across the cheap wallpaper. Plus, he was put in charge of Honey before. He could’ve just taken her then.
There’s nothing of interest in the pockets of either of the dead men, but I didn’t expect there to be. All I’ve done is waste time, which isn’t something we have much of, especially noting the camera at the end of the hallway. Someone will have seen the massacre, and surely someone in one of these rooms has called the police already. We need to leave.
“Get Amy, and let’s go,” I say to Henry.
“Yes, sir,” he replies, moving back into his room.
I return to mine to find Honey already dressed, a black pistol in her small hand and a serious expression on her face.
“Are they Bheka’s men?” Honey asks as I sling my bookbag over my shoulders.
“Doubtful.”
“Then why are they here?”
I sigh. “I don’t know. I really don’t know. I believe someone sold us out to the police.”
“Who could’ve done that?” she asks her eyebrows tilted back in an exquisite display of distress.
Even in this dire time, I want to throw her over the bed and make her scream my name as I remind her of the pleasure that we shared last night. Looking over her buttercream skin blemished on by rosy warmth, I can’t imagine losing her. With my life, I will protect her.
I turn toward the door, ready to blast my way out of this hotel to ensure her safety. I wave for her to join me. “Come. We’ll worry about the traitor later. We still have to get to Bheka. I didn’t come all this way just to go back home.”
“Or for someone to kill us,” she chimes in, her voice adventurous and bordering on cheerful.
“Yes, or for that,” I reply grimly, opening the door.
Henry and Amy are already in the hallway, at the two corpses are no longer tarnishing the floor with their limp, doll-like postures. Even the blood on the carpet appears to be mostly removed, but the irregular blob of reddish stain is still there.
“Did you move them?” I ask, looking toward Henry.
He nods. “Moved and cleaned.”
“That was fast,” I say, genuinely impressed by his ability to cover up a double homicide so quickly.
Henry grins. “A couple of towels is all you really
