Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three by Aven Jayce

its
misery.”
    I pace, trying to
figure out how long he’s got before he’s dead. This asshole needs to experience
something while he’s still alive and I want him to tell me about the woman. I
bet I have an hour or two before he fades away. That should be enough time.
    He tries a final
grab toward my neck when I tie his feet, but falls short. I flip him over and
tie his hands and elbows behind his back, then connect all three areas with a
firm knot.
    “Tell me why you
killed my father,” he says.
    “Oh yeah, I forgot
that’s why you’re here.”
    “You little
dickhead. Why?”
    “Now, now, Dayney boy,” I pat his greasy hair, “you know full well
your father was a rapist and not fit for this earth. All rapists should die.
But, that doesn’t mean I killed him.
He made the right choice that day by committing suicide.”
    “You sick fuck. Your
father was the rapist.”
    “Well, then. I guess
it’s a good thing they’re both dead, right?” I pick my gun up off the floor and
give him a hard kick to the abdomen, before unlocking the door to my stairwell.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I laugh, “I’ll be back with a friend.”
    My suite is two
flights up and pleasantly serene when I enter. Jules is sound asleep.
    Hoping she doesn’t
stir, I close the bathroom door and wash the blood off my face and the blade, then
change quietly into a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers before giving her a
light kiss on her soft cheek.
    “My sleeping
beauty,” I whisper.
    The blade is in the
pocket of my hoodie and one gun is in my ankle holster. I keep Dayne’s gun in the back waist of my pants and leave the
other behind. I’m overcompensating with all these weapons for an incapacitated
man who’s nearly dead on my garage floor, but at the same time, I don’t know
anything about his woman.
    I close the bedroom
door and step silently downstairs to the corridor outside my suite. There’s a
late arrival in the hallway and I wait for the couple to enter their room
before walking past. Blood drips down my forehead and gets wiped on my sleeve.
My vision’s blurry. Plus, my head’s pounding. The fucker probably gave me a
concussion.
    I put my head down
and hood up then walk to the opposite end of the hotel. What I have to do next,
asking for help, is going to sting more than a little.
    “Let’s get the show
on the road,” I whisper and knock three times on the door.
    It’s silent and I
knock again.
    “You’re bleeding,” a
voice responds. “A lot.”
    “No shit,” I say.
“Open the door.”
    “Is it safe?”
    “It’s safer .”
    “What happened?”
    “Open the fucking
door.” I lose my cool then regret the tone, not wanting to wake the guests.
“Listen to me,” I whisper with my fingers on the steel, “I need a second set of
hands to put the fat shit in my truck.”
    “When?”
    “Now. He’s like a
beached whale. Hurry up.”
    There’s mumbling
behind the door then silence.
    “I’m not going to
stand here and discuss this for twenty minutes. Get your ass out here.”
    “Give me a minute.”
    There’s more
mumbling then a lock clicks, the door opens, and my brother-in-law, Cove, steps
out.
    I shake my head at
my sister before she quickly shuts the door in my face.
    “Fuck, what’s up her
ass?” I ask. “And look at you, hot shot with the mountain man facial hair. Is
that a new look or just a horrible disguise?” I place my hand on his back as we
walk to my suite.
    “Don’t start, Mark.
I’m not in the mood for your shit.”
    “And you’re bathing
in a new cologne.” I inhale deeply. “ Vodka
in the Woods, perhaps? I hope you’re sober enough to do this.”
    “I’m not drunk, but
maybe I should be. What are we doing anyway?”
    “What are we doing?
We’re living, Cove. Living the good life.”
    He pushes my hand
away and strides forward.
    It’s too bad I
needed to ask for his help, but I’m glad he’s here with my sister and the kids.
I know he’d never admit it, but my extra