“You hear the rumors about him?”
“What rumors?”
“You haven’t heard? Guys in the rotation last month. They were saying he’s got—certain fantasies.”
“Like what?”
“Like—listen. I’d bet money. He’s gonna get her up there, get her undressed, and then he’s gonna ask one of us—one of the bigger ones, one of the muscular guys—to get in the shower with her while he just sits in the corner. That’s where his head’s at. I’m telling you.”
“Sick little fuck.”
“But, hey, as long as we’re getting paid.”
“Maybe we should ask for top floor duty tonight. Who knows, we might get lucky?—“
I can’t listen to this for another fucking second. I round the corner before Lorenzo’s decided whether to stop me.
The first one turns. Not fast enough. My knife goes in under his jaw. The second one’s reaching for the gun at his hip. I’m already there.
I put the second knife—Lorenzo’s spare, taped where I can grab it at the inside of my forearm—into the side of his neck and pull. He goes down sideways, spraying me with blood.
“Piece of shit,” I sneer.
A second later, Lorenzo’s at my shoulder. “Boss.”
“Top floor. Bathroom.”
“I heard.”
“That’s where she is. That’s where he is.”
“Then that’s where we’re going.”
“No. I’ll go.”
He starts to protest. I cut him off.
“Check the rooms on the way up. Clear them all. I’ll take the top floor alone.”
He looks at me.
“Boss.” Quieter. “Save some for me.”
“No promises.”
I take the stairs three at a time.
He goes the other way.
38
BEA
Time crawls.
I don’t know how long it’s been. Twenty minutes. An hour.
There’s water running somewhere overhead. Probably Victor taking a shower, trying to get my spit off his face.
