Page 101 of Midnight Racers

The two of us stalked up the steps to Martin’s home and rang the doorbell. I almost laughed out loud when I saw the butler in a suit in the doorway. The corners of Jordan’s lips twitched, and he reverted to his most posh accent.

“Good afternoon, we have an appointment with Mr. Thompson,” Jordan said.

“Who shall I say is calling?”

“Jordan Berkely,” Jordan replied promptly. “Thank you.”

The butler tried to close the door in our face, but my foot was firmly planted against the frame. I may not have been born with a silver spoon in my mouth, but I knew what a gangster in a suit looked like.

“I need to speak to your boss, and I have no intention on waiting outside,” I told him, pushing my way inside. I was too pissed right now and filled with worry for Charlotte to deal with an asshole who was delaying me getting back to her.

His hand swiped down in an attempt to force me back, but Jordan was right behind me. His fist hit the guy in the nose and he stumbled back. I attached a garrot around the guy’s neck as he tried to struggle his gun from his holster.

Fucking Amateur.

Everyone knew you should keep your gun close to hand, especially if you were expecting trouble. The fact that they had lost several players lately should have made them up their security.

Instead of trying to save himself, he was busy trying to shoot my ass while the last of his precious oxygen ebbed away. I kicked him in the balls, because it was my signature move and he deserved it for annoying me.

Other men rushed into the hallway, making Jordan and me spring into action.

I snapped the neck of the first guy who reached me, kicking the one behind him in the face before I shot him in the head. Another guard raced at me with a machete raised and ready to strike me, but I put three rounds in his head, his blade clattering to the ground a brief moment before he joined it.

“Never bring a knife to a gun fight!” Jordan shouted. “I loved that film!”

I rolled my eyes at him, and throat-punched the next guy who decided to attack me. This was what I never understood in these situations. While I appreciated they were attacking me one at a time to allow me to defeat them, did they never consider attacking Jordan and me all at once and destroying us? Like when the knights in a film all piled on top of a huge, fire-breathing dragon to kill it.

The hall was filled with about ten dead bodies and the floor smeared with blood when the fighting ceased.

Jordan cracked his neck from side to side and stared at the carnage. “I really missed these sessions since there’s no one left to kill on the Council. We really must do this more often.” He stepped over a body and straightened his cuff.

We cleared the ground floor before moving up the staircase to the first-floor landing. Room by room, we ensured no one was hiding, until we discovered the library at the back of the house overlooking a garden with Victorian-era architecture.

Martin sat behind a large, mahogany desk. Several guards stood in front of him.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?” he asked, his smile fake and predatory.

“You could stop trying to abduct or murder Charlotte,” I replied.

“Ah.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “The problem is that I have paid a lot of money for her technology. Dale seems to be incapable of delivering it, so therefore, my men had to go and retrieve it.”

“Could you not have paid the money directly to Charlotte and saved yourself all this hassle?” Jordan asked, waving his arms to indicate the goons protecting him.

“No!” Martin slammed his fist on the desk. “Copyright and patent law is a horrendous quagmire to navigate, and I do not have the time or the patience to begin to negotiate with that nonsense.”

“So, it’s easier to kill an innocent woman?” I queried in a low voice.

“If she had come the first time my men visited her, this could have all been sorted civilly.”

“By invading her home and trying to kidnap her? You really are wired to the moon and lighting the stars, aren’t you?” I couldn’t even begin to follow his logic.

“What exactly are you doing here?” Martin sat forward, a sneer lifting his top lip. “I am a very busy man and don’t have time for this.”

“Let me assure you that you will no longer be a busy man,” I threatened.

“Why? Because you are going to go to the police and tell them all my sins?” he taunted me.

“No, because you’ll be dead.” I folded my arms and stared at him. “You pissed off the wrong men, Martin. We don’t deal in idle threats or hide behind hired guns.”

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