Amy makes a face of arousal at Henry’s brag, and internally, I have to roll my eyes. I can’t prevent romance among my leaders, especially not when I’m throwing Honey’s legs behind her head and fucking her loudly right next door, but I also won’t allow romance to get in the way of our mission. Those two better be as serious as I am.
I swear that I see Honey wink at Amy before we leave, but I ignore it. Women are always communicating with each other, even if they don’t use words to do it. I’m certain that they’re able to speak through brainwaves, no doubt weaving intricate stories about their sexual conquests through the late night. I guess men do the same thing, but I have no immediate interest in bonding with Henry.
We all march down the hallway, opting for the emergency stairs instead of the elevator. The stiff confines of a slim elevator cabin would make us sitting ducks if someone were waiting for us in the lobby. Even if we have to blast our way out of here, it’s better to do it from the stairs, where we can find cover and retreat if necessary.
Honey’s warm hand finds mine as we skip down the dusty grey stairs in the poorly lit stairwell. A single lightbulb glares from the ceiling, swinging from a bare cord to illuminate the entire way down. The further we go, the darker it gets, and the shadows dance like sprites against the crooked walls. With every step, my gut wrenches and tries to convince me that I’m walking into my own demise.
It’s far from death, however, when we break out into the lobby to find nobody there. It’s too early for the hotel to be accepting guests, and an orderly checkout isn’t even on my mind. We’re leaving in a dirty blue van around the back of the building, and our foot soldiers will have to join us later.
The morning sun is hot, like an angry ball of molten steel in the sky as we step out to our freedom. Again, there is nobody waiting to take us prison and throw us in a dingy cell to rot in the sweltering heat. My skin prickles as my heart pounds in my chest, the sudden change in temperature agitating my nerves, but my mind is calmer now that we’re closer to a genuine escape.
“The van is around back,” I say to my group, tucking my gun into my waist and waiting for everyone else to do the same so that we don’t draw attention from the locals. Poorly dressed tourists are one thing, but tourists with guns in hand will grab attention. It’s not something anyone would shrug off as a cultural misunderstanding.
The van is waiting around the back of the hotel, like a shining beacon of hope despite its dreary appearance. It may look like a hunk of junk, and at one point in time, it was, but I made sure that we were getting the best when I ordered it. Ten-thousand dollars’ worth of horsepower was crammed into this thing on my command before I purchased it, and it was delivered in just the way I was promised it would be. Black markets are a beautiful thing.
I slide open the passenger door on the side of the van with more force than needed, causing it to bounce back on the railing and nearly fall off. Okay, so maybe it could’ve been in better condition, but this baby is going to get us to the Kalahari Desert in record time, with top speeds of over 150 MPH. That’s what I was told by Todd, the guy who fixed it up for me.
“All aboard the Calandro Express,” I say proudly as Amy, Henry, and Honey pile into the back.
“I hope this thing has AC,” Honey grumbles as she steps in, ducking so that she doesn’t graze her head against the rusted top of the doorway.
“You have no idea. I’m sure this bad boy is icy fresh,” I say.
“Sure,” she replies sarcastically, clearly not buying it.
I chuckle to myself and slide the door shut, circling around the van to the driver’s side to start our journey to the desert. I’m eager to get away from this hotel before I start hearing sirens, but police are a lot slower than they’re depicted in the movies. One time, I had a cop take three hours to show up to a crime scene, only to leave without even stepping into the building. I was watching the whole scene from across the street.
But those were my younger days. I used to laugh at the good guys while I did my dirty work, staying around to watch them find the evidence I had left and try to piece it together with no clue what they were doing. I was cocky back then, and it almost got me into serious trouble a number of times. Now, I don’t wait around, teasing and taunting like I’m playing chicken with my life. I have a wife to protect, and deaths to avenge.
As I’m climbing into the driver’s seat, I hear the familiar wail of sirens screaming from a few blocks down. Finally, someone has come to stop us. I grin to myself as Honey, Amy, and Henry sit in the back with eager and worried expressions, gripping their holstered guns in anticipation of the inevitable roll of police cars down the road.
I’m not worried.
I stick my key into the ignition and turn it, and the engine croaks to a start. Uh, I was expecting more of a roar, but I’m sure everything is as I ordered it. I shift gears, throwing the van into reverse, and nearly slam into the opposite building when the brakes squeak and cry under my heavy stomp. This van barely works!
Blue lights flash off the building beside us, indicating
