Page 76 of His Lair

John clearly doesn’t want me going with them. Interesting.

“I actually have to get my dress,” I say. I don’t. I already had a dress sent over to my room. What I need to do is figure out what the hell John is up to. “I’ll meet you back here at two?”

“Sounds good. See you soon.” Dad kisses my cheek and follows John out of the suite.

Something is up. I wonder if Sammie has spoken to his mother this morning? Maybe I should find out where she’sstaying and check in. Make sure she’s okay. There was something odd about the way John didn’t want to talk about her.

I can find out her room number. I just need my laptop.

Walking out of my dad’s suite, I head into the one next to it, where I threw my bag down before going up to Sammie’s apartment last night. I know the moment I walk in that I’m not alone.

One thing about mafia men, they like their cologne and don’t realize it’s usually a dead giveaway. Reaching behind my back, I pull out one of the guns Sammie gave me, suddenly thankful for him showing me his freaking lair. Then I put my phone to my ear and pretend to take a call.

“Hey, Charlotte, I’m just stopping to change. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

I don’t know how many guys are here or when they’re going to make themselves known. If they think I’m distracted by my phone, they won’t be as on alert, though.

“I know. I can’t wait for you to see my dress,” I say while walking into the bedroom. One hand on my phone, the other firmly wrapped around the pistol just inside my jacket.

I hear footsteps behind me and count them in my head—one, two, three, four—while focusing on the rhythm of the steps. There’s only one person. They only sent one guy for me? I’m insulted.

“I know! You were so right. Red is definitely my color,” I say, spinning around. My arm straightens so that the barrel of my gun is aimed directly at some asshole who thinks he can get the better of me, and I pull the trigger.

A shocked gasp escapes the guy before he starts falling. The bullet tore right through the middle of his chest. But he’s still alive.

I walk over to him and press my gun to his forehead. “Who sent you?”

“F… fuck you,” he spits, blood spurting up out of his mouth.

“Wrong answer, asshole,” I tell him before pulling the trigger again. This bullet goes through the center of his eyes.

I fire one more round into his chest for good measure. Then I step back to watch as blood pools around him. Fuck. Day one and I’m already creating a mess in Sammie’s casino. I should call him.OrI can just get this cleaned up and tell him about it afterwards.

That seems like a much better solution. He has enough to worry about today without me being one of those things.

I open my message thread with Emmanuel.

Me:

Suite 789, clean up needed. Don’t tell Sammie.

E:

You okay?

Me:

I’m fine.

A few minutes later, there’s a knock at my door. I peek through the peephole and see Emmanuel. I tug at the knob and hold the door open, waiting for him to step inside before shutting it.

“He was lying in wait for me,” I say when Emmanuel spots the body on the floor.

“Only one?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Pfft, well, clearly they don’t know who you are. That’s a good thing,” he says.