by Tiana Laveen
“I kind of wish I could go in this room and just fall out. Kim would never let me hear the end of it though. She’d say I could’ve stayed home if all I was going to do was sleep…
She sighed when she was a few feet away from her door.
What’s that?
When Zaire arrived in front of her room on the twenty-first floor, her heart practically boomed out of her chest…
There, on the carpet, lay at least fifty red rose petals. She tried to navigate them, prevent from stepping on the damn things, but it proved impossible. She walked inside her room, the cool air blasting so hard, she felt like she’d stepped foot inside a glacier. When she hit the light, she squelched a scream by covering her mouth with both hands… eyes wide… blood pumping.
There, on the bed, sat a large bouquet of dark red roses wrapped with a black satin sash. Attached was a white note with a black lace border. She picked it up and read it:
Zaire, I think you’re beautiful. You have the type of eyes a man could drown in and be happy to be dead, as long as you were the last person he saw before taking his final breath.
You said you’re not like the women I’m used to. I’m not like the men you’re used to. We’re even.
I won’t apologize for what I said, only for how it made you feel. If I apologize for actually saying it and vow to not say it again, then that’s a lie.
To me, lying is starting out on the wrong foot. What I will do is ask you to accept this peace offering and allow me the opportunity to push the ‘DO OVER’ button.
Let me take you out. Let’s have lunch tomorrow.
I will pick you up at 12:30 P.M.
- Savage
Zaire’s chest damn near burst as she re-read the note. Placing it back on the bed, she lifted the bouquet to her nose and sniffed. The scent was simply divine. The sweetness was amazing. They were so aromatic and perfect, as if freshly plucked from a garden right there on the premises. The fragrance filled the entire room.
How in the hell did he find my hotel room?! So much for customer privacy…
Though her annoyance was woven around her curiosity like a finely knitted sweater, she couldn’t help but smile. Savage was an interesting man to say the least.
He’s intriguing… Maybe I will go out to lunch with him, maybe I won’t… Let me sleep on it. One thing is for sure, no matter what I do, I won’t plan to see him again after I leave this place.
What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas…
CHAPTER THREE
Allies and Artillery
Head leaned to the side, eyes focused, Savage meticulously dug the last bit of soot, greasy oil, and dirt from under his nails with the edge of a razor blade. When he was satisfied, he wrapped the razor in a thick wad of toilet paper and tossed it into the hotel bathroom trashcan. After checking himself out in the mirror, he walked into the bedroom, adjusting the white towel wrapped around his waist along the way. When he neared the bed, he looked at his nails once again. They’d become a bit of a nuisance to him lately. Just the other day, there was so much blood caked under them, he wasn’t certain he’d ever get it completely out by soaking his fingertips in a hydrogen peroxide bath, which he did on occasion—a long, boring process he hated.
Yeah, I think I got all the dirt out…
For a few hours that day, he’d worked on one of his motorcycles that was stored in the casino garage. He enjoyed his alone time, just him dancing with his thoughts. Anything was welcome to help him decompress after the three women that had trounced to his room the previous evening. He grinned as he reminisced over the whole sordid encounter…
After an evening of drinking and non-stop fucking, his adrenaline rush was coming down, mundane like the fried eggs, toast, and oatmeal he’d had for breakfast. The memories of two of the women locking glossy lips and bumping their pussies against one another spun inside of his head like a flicked coin on a table. He then paused… recalling how at one point he wanted to tell them to get the fuck out of his room…
That feeling had come over him suddenly. A wave of heated rage… absurd and bizarre in mid-dick stroke…
He was a bit peeved, preoccupied. The image of someone else swam inside of his thoughts, had him caught up in a strange rapture. Disappointment settled in like creases and wrinkles on an elephant hide. Savage stared into space, pondering the moment he’d almost lost his Zen last night.
He’d envisioned his night differently. Simply put, he’d wanted to taste Zaire’s pussy, give her the fucking of her life. Her rejection of his frank advances had left a bad taste in his mouth, like the rancid coffee he’d had at the gas station a few days ago. Her arrogant responses, however, had impacted him in some way. He walked to the window and pulled the curtains open. He blinked as blinding sunlight filtered into the room.
I’m going to swing by and get her at lunch, do exactly what I said I was going to do. Yeah, last night was definitely not exactly what I wanted… I always get what I want because I can… She was fucking gorgeous. She talked like she was educated, a little snooty thing, wasn’t she? Not like the chicks last night… All their fake giggling and carryin’ on just to get some cash. I’m sick of bimbos. Why can’t I have a chick with brains, beauty, boobs and butt too?
When he’d arrived at a different room within the hotel that he’d be using only for his raucous romps, he stepped out into the hall right before the festivities had begun. He was half naked, but needed a bit of privacy and quiet; between the music and the three women making such noise with their high-pitched laughter, he didn’t waste a second to dial the hotel florist immediately and to place an order. He then alerted the hotel manager on duty that he wanted the bouquet placed in the lady’s room ASAP. He only had the name she’d given, but recalled it wasn’t her first name, as her friend had let slip.
With a bit of quick thinking on his part, he suggested hotel security look at the footage of where he stated he’d encountered her and have staff follow his wishes. They promised to take care of it, and he only wished he could have seen the expression on her face when she saw the rose petals scattered in the hall along the threshold of her door, the bouquet on the bed, and the decadent European chocolates hidden beneath a towel in her bathroom…
He shook the imagery away and focused on the tasks at hand. Grandson’s, ‘Bury Me Face Down’ played on his phone as he devised ways to pass the time. Keeping his music low and the television on mute, he made his way to the king sized bed where his clothing was neatly placed. A black shirt, black leather vest, silver buckled belt, motorcycle boots, and black denim jeans lay across the shimmery gold and black tiger striped sheets, tacky as they were.
They know I hate these fucking animal prints. I asked for white fucking sheets. How hard can it be?! What do I look like? Tarzan? ‘Oh! We’ve upgraded your room to an even nicer suite, Mr. Savage! You’ll love it!’ Looks like the fucking Lion King threw up in here…
“I was first in line until the little hairball was born!” He chuckled at himself quoting the movie. He’d never seen the Broadway production. Just then, his cellphone buzzed. He snatched it off the nightstand, immediately cutting the music short.
“Yeah, it’s about time, motherfucker.”
“Fuck you.” His friend chortled. “So damn impatient…”
Savage sat on the edge of the bed and tossed the thick towel that had been wrapped around his waist across the room.
“All I know is that you better be callin’ me with some info. I’m tired of this shit…”
“From what I’ve heard, you’re having a ball. Women every night, winning at your favorite games, drinking your liver into oblivion, smoking Cuban cigars, stuffing your big fat mouth with prime rib and shrimp and watching all the shows your heart desires. You need to calm the fuck down. Don’t shoot the messenger, Savage.”
“I will if they pay me enough,” he teased. “Hell, with the way you’ve been acting lately, I’d do it for a melted ice cream cone and a rusty nickel. Anyway, any new information, soldier?”
Harlem, a longtime friend of his, army Vet, retired NYPD cop, and member of the organization could be heard taking a long drag on a cigarette.
“Yeah… Stay ten toes down.”
“Always, motherfucker. What else? Am I still trapped here like some animal in a cage or what? I’d like to get on with it.”
“You might as well treat yourself like a big time freakshow and start sellin’ tickets, man, ’cause you’re the main attraction.”
“What do you mean?”
“Longhorn has got guys crawlin’ around your houses like fuckin’ rats in a butcher shop, man.” The man snickered, his voice deep and husky with New York swag dripping all over each syllable. “Got your place in Vegas locked down too, just in case you had any bright ideas.”
“I’m not surprised. That’s exactly why I came to the hotel instead of going home. I could always go to the bunker, but receiving information there is sketchy. Shitty reception.” Besides, the bunker was more for raids, city shut-downs, things of that nature. No one knew where the hell it was except for him—that made it the ideal hideout, but he needed contact with the outside world right now, so fast communication was key.
I’d really love to just go home and get wasted…
Savage loved his house in California where the whole sordid ordeal had begun. It was his favorite property of all, but he was rarely there. With all the latest bullshit, there was no way he could even get within two hundred feet of the place without being involved in a gun war. The estate was being digitally monitored, but his physical presence would start a second bloodbath, and he definitely didn’t plan to be among the casualties. Although he didn’t give a split fraction of a fuck and could hold his own, he had to think smart.
Only fools rush in. He’d survived so long in his profession thanks to his natural discretion. His ability to wipe a motherfucker out in the blink of an eye and keep the noise level low as a whisper from a ghost was part of his claim to fame.
“You fucked them dudes up, Savage. Took out at least two of his commanders. Longhorn is pissed.”
“Commanders my left hairy ball.” He rolled his eyes in disbelief. “He shouldn’t have sent his ballerinas to a massacre ball. I don’t give a constipated shit if the King of England was there. You come bustin’ up my spot and you get sprayed. Period.”
The last update he’d received several hours prior from Austin was that his little extermination festival had not been well received, not only from Longhorn, but from many of his own allies. Allegedly, he’d gone overboard, made a terrible scene. But what the fuck did anyone expect? A warm welcome with homemade soft batch sugar cookies and milk? Longhorn had stepped over the line. He got what the fuck he got, and as far as Savage was concerned, he should be happy Savage didn’t go against protocol and track his ass down too—put a bullet right in the middle of his gotdamn forehead then stomp his spirit to death when it departed from his lifeless body.
“Can I leave soon? I feel like a five-year-old asking permission to take a piss.”
“Stay put.”
“How long before I can bust outta here and get on with the next assignment? Did Austin tell you? I asked him this morning, but we got cut off. He had to hang up before I’d gotten an answer. I bet I won’t hear from him for another day or two.”
“I spoke to him last night about it. He doesn’t have an exact timetable right now… too many balls are in the air. He needs to get you outta there in one piece, so everyone is keeping watch, lying low, hiding the fact we can see their every move. Just chill, man.”
“I don’t feel like chillin’, Harlem. I’m getting sick of this shit already but more importantly, something doesn’t feel right about this, ya know? This ambush doesn’t make sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Longhorn has known about me for years. He hates me, but respects me. He has his guys, Austin has his. Everyone knows he wants Austin dead. They’ve got too much bad blood. I do gigs now and again for Austin because I respect him and how he runs his operation. He tried to hire me full on, as you know, but I enjoy my independence. I told him I can’t work for anyone but myself, but I have no issues with helpin’ out every now and again. He was fine with that, but hopes to eventually change my mind one day. So, with that said, why wouldn’t Longhorn go about this differently? This is a beef between them, not me.”
“Well, yeah, that’s already been established, but I’m still not following you.”
“I feel like I don’t have all the pieces. That hit was for me, yeah, but why, Harlem? Why would he send that many damn people, to my home of all places, during a fucking party?”
“Who in their right mind would only send one or two guys to do you in, Savage?! An idiot! That’s who!” He couldn’t help but laugh at this. “You’re the poster child for, ‘You’ll need an army to take me out.’ And if you think about it, a party atmosphere was perfect. Your defenses wouldn’t be as heightened. You’d be distracted and there would be people around. You’d have to try and protect them and fight at the same time. It was perfect planning, if you ask me.”
“Yeah, my defenses were a little down, but I’m always alert, Harlem, even in the middle of chaos. He knows this. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since I was a baby… always got one eye open.”
“But everyone has a weak spot…”
Savage drew quiet for a spell. Of course everyone had a weak spot. He’d just never told anyone what his was. He was fully aware of his weaknesses, the things that made him tick and the tunnels that needed travelled in order to manipulate him, make him do another person’s bidding. No one had found those buttons yet; they were protected by a steel vault, a cage wrapped in chains and a flesh-eating monster with an axe to grind.
“I think you’re reading too much into this,” Harlem added.
“Nah, it’s gotta be more than that.”
“Like what? Seems pretty cut and dry to me, Savage. If Longhorn can’t get Austin on a slab with a toe-tag, you’re the next best thing. He’d cripple his entire operation with you being gone. Everyone knows you and Austin are tight.”
“This could all be over and done with if I could just blow Longhorn the fuck off this planet. Give me ten minutes, maybe fifteen… but noooo! Austin wants to be square about it. Meanwhile, my kitchen is painted red and this bad ass broad I was fucking during Longhorn’s ballsack riders’ break-in probably is tied up somewhere and confessing to where the guns are. You told me to never trust these hoes…” he grumbled, causing Harlem to burst out laughing. “Anyway, in all seriousness, yeah, all of that shit you said is true. I dunno though… I just don’t know.”
Savage ran his hand across his jaw, feeling the stubbly hairs of his beard. The nagging feeling that many of the puzzle pieces were not fitting together still perplexed him. Made him wonder.
Some of this shit just isn’t right. I hope I’m being paranoid, but I doubt it.
Harlem started talking about some other things, mundane details that needed to be addressed. Savage half listened as he reached into a small black satin satchel inside the nightstand drawer and pulled out a hand-rolled cigar. He lit the damn thing and dared someone to phone him about smoking in his room.
He’d already removed the smoke detectors as soon as he’d stepped foot inside, didn’t want to cause a scene and have those ridiculous sprinklers going off, wetting up everything. As he lay back smoking, ankles crossed, nodding his head and speaking every now and again in response to Harlem’s laundry list of things he needed to do, he glanced lazily towards the window.
The city was waking up now; it was finally 7:00 A.M. He could hear a bit of honking, the traffic moving along. He’d only slept for an hour, but his adrenaline was soaring. He imagined that would be an ongoing condition until he got to the bottom of all of this.
I need to get up and do something before lunch. I’m going to lose my fucking mind if I don’t get some blood pumping.
“Harlem, I hate to cut you off, but I got the gist of
it. It’ll be taken care of. I need to blow off some steam, get my work out in.”
“All right. So are we straight weapon wise? You have everything you need until you can push ‘GO’ again?”
“Yeah, for now anyway.”
“Let me hear it before you hang up, so I can be certain.”
“Let’s see, in the hotel storage I’ve got some pretty little ladies.” He sighed as he got to his feet. Shutting his eyes, he rubbed the skin between his brows and concentrated. “I’ve got two pump action rocket guns, a flamethrower, .357 Sig Glock, two 9 mms with .40 S&Ws, three .44 Magnums and a host of blades.”
“Sounds good. That should hold you for a bit. What do you have on you right now, on your person?”
Savage yawned, took another toke of his cigar and smashed it in a black glass ashtray. He stretched his arms and went through the files in his mind once again.
“Fully loaded with backup, Smith and Wesson and an AK-47. I’ve got two blades and can get more if need be from across the way. Yeah, you know what? On second thought, send me a couple extras so I can get started on the next project. I know I can’t physically move into position yet, but I want to be ready. I refuse to keep playing this hide and go seek game, though. Time is money and it’s the only thing that, when it runs out, I can’t replace. Let Austin know he needs to call me ASAP.”
“Will do. He’ll have a new phone line for you by tomorrow. The other one he ditched.”
“Good.” Savage disconnected the call, grabbed a pair of black jogging pants from the dresser drawer and slid them on. He dropped down on the floor and did 200 pushups, his nose practically touching the carpet fibers. His arms burned once he reached the 170 mark, but he was determined to get this work out in for it always made him feel better. After a short while, he followed it up with 100 jumping jacks then pulled himself up and down over the room door ledge. He took a second shower, perused some of the local shops, made a few calls, walked the hotel grounds, then let the excitement take over…
