Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49989 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
He washed his hands in the bathroom, the blood mixing with the water and swirling down the drain. His mind almost went back to those weeks of carnage so long ago, but he stopped himself before slipping into oblivion. When he heard a barely audible sniffle, he knew his maid was hiding in the linen closet.
Priest was fairly certain she hadn’t seen his face. Not that his identity meant a thing. He was hard to miss with half his face covered in ink. It was the complication that pissed him off. It would be so easy to end her life like most hitmen would do without a second thought. For Priest, it wasn’t so simple. He shouldn’t care, but he couldn’t bring himself to kill an innocent.
He almost pulled out his cell phone to call Bain because he knew he was working nearby. Anyone else on his team would take the shot. But he refrained, not wanting to look incompetent. He checked his watch. Fuck, he should have been out of there by now. He knew Chains had taken a hostage at one point, trapping her in his basement rather than killing her. Boss had been pissed off to a new level. Priest had no intentions of following the same route but couldn’t figure out what to do with her.
He tucked his gun into his holster and opened the closet door. Priest crossed his arms over his chest as he looked down at her on the bottom shelf. He was surprised she’d managed to squeeze in there at all.
“Get out.”
She didn’t hold back the sniffling now as she spilled out onto the bathroom tiles from her cramped position. She stayed on the floor in the fetal position.
“Get up.”
Inch by inch, she stood up, her hands clutching her apron. Her knuckles were white, her face blotted and tear stained. “I didn’t see anything.” Her voice was barely a whisper.
Priest scoffed. He grabbed her by arm and tugged her into the main room where the white sheets were soiled red, the body sprawled out in the most unflattering position. She gasped and slapped her hands over her mouth.
“Now you see.”
She shook her head back and forth. “Please no.”
His curiosity got the better of him. “Why were you in this room after hours?”
“The last shift forgot to replace the toilet paper. She asked me to check before I left.”
His day had gone to the shitter because of toilet paper? He’d never live this down.
“Well, you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and I’m sorry to say your life will never be the same.”
****
Cleo couldn’t breathe. Her body felt like lead, her feet frozen in place.
She didn’t want to look at the crime scene, but she also couldn’t look away. Now her nightmares would be rooted in reality. The murderer had found her, and she was going to be next on his kill list.
Her mind whirled with thoughts, her life flashing through her mind like a person on their deathbed. What had she accomplished? What dreams had she seen through to fulfillment? She was only twenty-four. Cleo hadn’t achieved anything of significance in her life, and now it was over. It wasn’t fair. She was going to die because of toilet paper.
“I won’t say anything. I promise.” She was desperate, begging, and didn’t care how pathetic she appeared. If there was something she could do to prolong her life, she was going to do it.
“I’ve heard that before. Usually right before I pull the trigger.”
She dared to sneak another peek at the murderer. He was the scariest man she’d ever seen. His face was covered in tattoos, his eyes dark and empty. And damn he was huge. He could break her in two with no effort at all. She was completely at his mercy.
“I’ll do anything you ask. Please. Please. Please,” she chanted.
“Stop talking. I need to think.”
Was he considering letting her live? A tiny ray of hope brightened inside her. He’d let that other woman go free, so why not her?
“Give me your identification.”
“My purse is in the locker downstairs.”
He groaned, an angry sound that sent a shiver up her spine.
“Name.”
“Cleo Bennet.”
“We’re going for a ride. If you open that pretty little mouth of yours, you won’t make it out of the building alive. Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Push your cart down to your locker. Don’t make eye contact with anyone. Don’t do anything stupid.”
He opened the door first, looking both ways down the hall before motioning her to get out. She held her breath, grabbing her cart like a zombie. She didn’t feel like herself. Maybe she’d wake up and discover this was all a nightmare.
Cleo wondered if she’d get a chance to escape. Maybe they’d come across other guests or a manager and the killer would slip up or get nervous. Who was she kidding? She doubted this guy was afraid of anything, and she knew he was capable of murdering her in the grisliest way imaginable.