An hour later he washes the bloody sweat from his body and glances back at the mess he has made. Vivienne soiled the sheets with urine and blood, but unfortunately, she's still alive. A thought occurs to him that he only worked one side. “Viv, are you thirsty? Of course, you are.” He grabs a cup of water and releases the gag and trickles water into her untouched mouth. Next, he unties her hands and feet, which drop limply to her side. She is too weak to fight, the pain radiates from her wounds and when he flips her over, she moans, and begins to cry.
“Shhh…. I promised you would enjoy it,” he attempts to tie her hands, but her fear causes her adrenaline to rush, and she attempts to kick him. He laughs and finds that her struggle has him growing hard again.
“Yes, fight me Viv!” he grabs her by her long dark hair and jerks her back against his naked body and presses the knife to her throat. Her struggle stops, and he laughs.
“On the bed, face down!” she sobs as she falls to the mattress and he secures her hands and feet once more. Standing up he stretches and drops the knife on the bedside table. He runs a hand over her bare ass and begins again.
Before he leaves the room forty-five minutes later, he's sure to leave another gold coin for the police to find. They will soon be too busy to worry about a dead whore. Time for a shower and to scope out the perfect spot for his work tonight.
Chapter 27
Solomon greets the officers out front of Wells bank and hands them each an envelope. “Thank you for your assistance. Mr. Wells has paid you a little extra for the short notice. The dock workers will unload the shipment and carry them into the basement vault. Ah, here they come now.” Solomon hears the horse-drawn wagon coming at a slow pace. He turns to the officers, “I'll just go open the vault for them.”
Aiden almost gives his location away when he sees Solomon Abbott talking to two officers in front of the bank. This couldn't be better planned! “Goodbye, Mr. Abbott maybe when I finish with Cassie, I will give your Faith a visit!” he whispers.
It is a clear night from the top of the brick building a hundred yards from the bank. Through the brass scope on his rifle, he zeroes in on the officers and scans the surrounding area before stopping on the wagon. The six men climb down carefully, and Jeb starts calling out orders. Two gas lanterns light the street in front of the bank, and the men carefully lift the first crate down. They move at a turtle’s pace because they all know that one misstep would be deadly. The first crate is set down in front of the bank next to the two officers, who step back to watch.
Two more men follow with the second crate, and the third is being unloaded when Aiden smiles. “Time’s up boys,” he whispers and pulls the trigger. The bullet leaves the barrel with the roar of gunpowder and flash of ignition. The officers turn at the yellow flash, eyes widening in horror, for they know what that means. It pierces the first wooden crate and sinks deep into the glass and ignites.
No one has time to move, and Jeb thinks, “Shit,” before death claims them. The resulting explosion detonates the other crates, and the pressure of the blast explodes up and rolls outward into the bank and surrounding buildings, flattening and throwing debris for blocks.
Aiden feels the shockwave rock the building he is standing on, and the glass windows shatter on every building that is left standing. He picks up his rifle and climbs down the back of the building. “Time to catch a train.”
Solomon is finished unlocking the steel door and walking towards his office behind the vault when the first shock wave rolls through the bank above and throws him into the back of his office. The steel door provides some barrier from the blast, but the building above goes up in an explosion of dust and debris. The streets above are raining glass, wood, and body parts.
Solomon struggles to breathe from the pressure wave of the explosion. He flies through his office over his desk and into the wall. Stunned, he lies entombed beneath the earth and watches as the dust and debris begin to sift through the cracked ceiling. He knows he only has moments to live. His ears are ringing horribly from the pressure, and when he puts a hand to one side of his face, he feels blood running from a cut in his scalp. He crawls through the debris towards the corner of his office. The vault was built in the basement for just this purpose, to provide protection in case of a robbery or explosion. There's an escape hatch inside that not many people are privy to. Solomon shoves what's left of the wood from his desk over and stops moving when he hears a smaller explosion rock the building again. Secondary explosions probably from the gas lanterns and broken pipes at street level.
He draws up the rug and lifts the round steel hatch, descending into the darkness beneath. The streets under Wells bank run along Market Street all the way to the corner of The Palace Hotel. It was built for deliveries and other nefarious means that Solomon does not care to know about. Solomon seals the hatch and limps along the corridors. Usually lit with oil lanterns the explosion must have destroyed some of the lines, which from what he
