Page 58 of The Games We Play

I push myself uphigher against the back of the couch and risk a glance at the window. A bullet cuts through the glass and whizzes by my head, forcing me to drop back down.

I smirk and wet my bottom lip. This is not how I saw tonight going. I crawl from the couch to the kitchen and stay ducked under the island.

Another shot, another miss.

Sliding open the drawers, I search until I find a cloth and breathe through the pain as I shove it between my shirt and the bleeding wound. At least this way, I won’t leave a trail for them to follow.

Bracing on my feet in a crouched position, I rush to the door, diving through the opening and pressing my back to the wall outside in the hallway.

I only get seconds before the sound of the elevator dinging and voices have me rushing to the stairwell. I gently click the door closed when I hear voices echoing below me.

Can’t I catch a break?

Leaning over the banister, I lock eyes with a man in a suit doing the same as he gazes up at me. I’ve been in this line of work long enough to recognize another killer. In a flash, he whips out his pistol, and the shot rings up the stairs, ricocheting off metal. I jump back, open the door, and rush back down the hallway. Half walking, half jogging, I risk a glance behind me when I reach Scott’s room door once again.

When I face back toward the elevator, he steps around the corner, inspecting his fingernails and grinning like he’s the fox who just broke into the henhouse.

“There he is,” he sings like I’m the next contestant on his twisted show. The door to the stairs opens, and I pivot with my back to the wall as I stare at the gun aimed at me and then back at Scott. “I knew you couldn’t resist, man. Like dangling candy in front of a baby. You want me dead? You want it enough to make mistakes.” He bounces on his toes and cackles with excitement.

“I just bested Lance! The unstoppable hitman!” he shouts, and I wince at the volume, shifting my gaze to the hall of doors. Scott follows my gaze and smirks. “There’s nobody here but you, me, and trigger-happy over there.” He points at the man opposite him, and I force myself to appear relaxed, not the utterly unhinged monster wanting to break free.

Scott walks closer, and I reach for my holstered gun at my back. “Ah-ah. I wouldn’t do that. Not before we have a chance to chat.”

A barrel presses into my temple. Mr. Trigger-Happy must have advanced along with Scott. I clench my jaw and slowly drop my hand back to my side.

“Good,” Scott nods, steps past me, and into the suite filled with bullet holes.

“How do I know I won’t get sniped as soon as I walk in that door?” I ask over my shoulder, refusing to give Mr. Trigger-Happy my entire back.

“Come on, Lance. That wouldn’t be very sportsman-like, would it?”

The cold steel nudges against my skull, and I clench my fists and prepare myself for death as I cross the threshold. Mr. Trigger-Happy follows and closes the door. Scott stands in front of the windows and traces his finger from one bullet hole to the next.

“It’s riveting, isn’t it?” he mutters. “Death is so close to us every day,” he spins on his heel and waves a hand at me. “Some closer than others. But everyone down there,” he jerks his head at the city. “They don’t even realize that with one order from me, they would be dead. One slip at the sidewalk or an encouraging shove, and they would be flattened by a bus. One step into a dark alley, throat slit, and left for dead. Poof.”

“What are we doing here, Scott? You going to kill me? Get it over with and save us from this pointless rambling.”

Slipping my right hand in my pocket, my fingers trace the familiar metal.

Scott waves a dismissive hand, and Mr. Trigger-Happy grunts as he walks out of the room.

“I am going to kill you,” he states like he’s ordering pizza.

This is the man I’ve worked beside for the past year. I know how he works, how he thinks, what his signatures are. First, he’ll toy with me, try to get inside my head. He’ll want to get personal. Threaten those closest to me and wait until I crack before killing me.

At least that’s what I’ll let him believe.

“But first, how do you know Darius? He’s very interested in every detail about you, and honestly, I can’t figure out what’s so special.”

I shrug. “Perhaps it’s my good looks?”

Scott laughs and shakes his hand while pointing his finger at me. “There’s that cocky, untouchable attitude that Lima is known for. God, I’ve missed you!”

“Wish I could say the feeling was mutual,” I wince when pain shoots through my shoulder.

Scott narrows his gaze on me. “Ah, he hit you. Not a total loss, then.”

Blood trickles down my bicep, and I press my arm to my side to keep it from dripping down my fingers to the floor. I don’t need to give him more fuel to add to this dumpster fire.

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