Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109477 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
She stared after him, disgust eating at her.
“Go to his room,” Zorn growled in her ear. “Kill him but don’t leave any evidence that might incriminate the Demigods. We’ll look up his warehouse location and take what we need. The world will be a better place without filth that uses his position to lure women in. He fucked with the wrong family.”
Fair enough.
She wanted to ask Zorn about the fae, but thought better about it in a public place. If someone heard, it might cause panic or implicate her. If Zorn hadn’t mentioned anything yet, he didn’t plan to right then.
She glanced over at the bar and caught the cute bartender looking at her. He gave her a smile before helping a customer. She headed that way. She had an hour to kill. She wanted to see if what that fae had said was true.
An hour and ten minutes later, she walked out of the elevator and headed right, toward Rutherford’s room. The fae had been correct, damn him. That bartender downstairs was a piece of shit. It had taken no time at all to get him talking about his distrust of Chesters. Then his outright hatred. Then the antics with which he treated them. He didn’t come right out and say it, but yeah, he had a body count. It was easy to tell. He’d need to be dealt with, and brutally. But that wasn’t her task right now. She had more important things to handle first.
She carried a leather folder that Rutherford would think held paper for notes and maybe stats or prices or who knew what. It didn’t matter. It actually held weapons, some particularly nasty. She’d stashed it in a safe spot in the hotel the day before in case one of a few things went wrong. This wasn’t exactly one of those things, but it was close enough. She wanted a knife bigger than the one she had previously stashed on her person.
At the door she paused, feeling his soul inside. Stationary. He was waiting.
She knocked softly and nearly let the grimace show when he opened the door in a hotel bathrobe. Fucking hell, this guy was something. She might’ve gone a little too hard with the mouse routine. No originality among perverts.
“Oh…” she said as though taken aback. “I didn’t—”
“No, no. It’s okay.” He held the door wide for her. “Don’t mind me. I had to get out of the penguin suit. My clothes are being dry-cleaned. They should be here any minute.”
A penguin suit was a tux, which he hadn’t been wearing, and the clothes thing was a really shitty lie. He thought she was dumb or desperate.
“Okay.” She edged past him and was not surprised when he flicked the extra lock on the door. To continue playing the part, she really should ask about that. It was what a nervous woman in her situation would do. But she didn’t have the energy for any more of his shenanigans. “So…here?”
She pointed at the desk in the corner with the single chair, lifting her eyebrows to ask where she should sit.
“No, not enough room. Here.” He walked between the double beds, sat on one of them, and motioned for her to sit opposite him.
Huh. She hadn’t seen that coming. She had thought he’d want her to sit on the same side.
“Oh…ugh…” She cleared her throat as if debating, then hesitantly sat down, scanning the room for his laptop. That would make things ten times easier.
He sat with spread knees, revealing what little was between his thighs. Fabulous. His leer said it had been on purpose. He liked flashing.
Oh, fuck this.
She mumbled something about it, feigned embarrassment so he wouldn’t go on the defensive just yet, and opened her leather folder in such a way that he couldn’t see what was inside.
“Let’s talk about that later…” He leaned closer and put a hand on her knee.
“Oh!” She stood as she snapped the leather folder shut, the knife she’d freed pressed against the back, out of sight. Ideally, she should do this in the bathtub to make cleaning up easier. Wrestling him to that location, though, would be a huge hassle, not to mention she might not have the strength. In her situation, surprise was always the best method.
“No, no, it’s okay.” He followed and stepped forward, lifting his hands to cage her in.
There wasn’t enough maneuverability here. She slipped by him easily but slowed near the wall. This was better.
He hastened after her. “Shh, shh,” he said as though to a frightened cat. “I won’t hurt you.”
He already had. Her retinas were burned from the image of his horrible lack of manscaping.
He pushed in close, reaching for her. She dropped the leather folder, knife in hand. She tilted her body and balanced just before—
Rutherford’s body was ripped to the side. He flew through the air like a rag doll. His head slammed against the wall, splattering red on the white surface, and his body crashed into the nightstand as it fell. He slumped to the ground silently and lay deathly still. It was very likely he wouldn’t be getting up again.