Page 82 of His Lair

“Lailani? What the hell is going on?” This comes from John.

“Where is she?” I ask him, my sight trained on his head.

“Who?”

“Miss Russo, where is she?” I lower my aim and shoot out one of his kneecaps.

He screams and falls to the floor. “Ah, fuck. She’s in the bedroom. Asleep. What is this all about?”

“Paz, call E. Tell him where we are. They might want to send an actual cleaner,” I shout over a shoulder.

“On it,” Paz replies.

I walk over to John, connecting my foot with his chest. “What have you done?” I ask him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” he says.

“What is your deal with the Santiagos? And what the fuck do you want from Sammie?”

“Fuck you. I knew you were a fucking bitch,” John spits out.

“What do you want from Sammie?” I repeat. This time, a bullet tears through John’s bicep.

“Argh, fucking hell. It’s not me. It’s Santiago. He wants The Strip. I didn’t have a choice. He was going to kill me if I didn’t help him.”

“He wants The Strip? That’s it?”

“That’s it,” John says.

“Cool chat.” I fire a bullet between his eyes, and then the door to the room is bursting open. My gun lowers when I see Emmanuel, Sammie, and Louie all staring back at me. “Do I have something on my face?” I ask before wiping at my cheek.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Does she have something on her fucking face?

Lailani is standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by dead bodies, and she’s worried that she’s got something on her face?

“What the fuck happened here?” I ask, storming into the suite.

Lailani smiles at me. Fucking smiles. And my steps stop. I’m taken aback. “I found your mom,” she says.

“You found my mom?” I repeat.

“She’s in the bedroom. Can you check on her?” Lailani shifts her focus to Emmanuel.

“Lailani, I specifically asked you not to do anything,” I tell her.

“And Ispecificallydon’t recall you being my boss,” she fires back at me. “By the way, John says that the Santiagos want The Strip and that’s what all this is about.”

“We know,” Louie says.

“Okay then.” Lailani looks around the room. “Maybe you should swap these carpets out for something red. It might hide all the blood better.”

“Or, here’s a thought, we could just stop killing people in the hotel rooms?” I suggest, walking towards the bedroom. I need to see if my mother is actually in there.

“She’s asleep,” Emmanuel says as I step through the door.

“She okay?” I ask him.