Page 18 of Brutal Knight

I had no clue that, in only nine short years, I would shatter that promise to pieces.

FOUR

PRESENT DAY

Stepping out of my parking spot, I stared at the brown, brick building, built in the late 1800s. It was a hotel until the US national government made laws against alcohol and gambling, then the secret underground basements were perfect to hide smuggled alcohol and illicit casino games.

Old East Coast mobsters ran the place, and my Cuban ancestors sold rum to them for many years before eventually killing them and taking over their business. That was the reason I was so good at what I did in my spare time: killing was in my blood.

And even though my family had owned this building for seventy years, thus making me the owner, no one else knew it. Even Rook, who knew more secrets about me than the Kings, didn’t know that I owned this building.

He knew about the building because my father used to bring me here as a kid. Here was where I learned the richness of the sensual world, how backhand deals ran the government and corporations alike, and that you could do what the fuck ever you wanted if you had enough numbers next to your name. Even though I’d asked, my dad wouldn’t allow me to bring Rook, stating that the Undergroves may have a rich and lustrous history, but that their bank account wasn’t outstanding enough, even if I brought him along as a guest.

However, Rook grew up to be as shrewd and ambitious as his ancestors, and as soon as he qualified, he applied for a room here.

"Good evening, Mr. Caldwell,” the woman at the front desk greeted me as I stepped inside. All the people who worked here were required to know the names and faces of all our clients; it was in the employee handbook.

"Hello, Himari.” I, also, made it my business to know all the names of my employees, especially the ones who workedhere. She had long black hair, shaved and dyed pink on the sides, and was originally from Japan. She’d come here on a student visa, but needed a job, and the company was paying her under the table since her visa didn’t allow her to work.

She gave me a polite smile and held out her hand. "I'll take your personal effects."

I placed my phone, wallet, and my Beretta on the ornate oak desk, a requirement before entering to keep my clients safe.

She pulled a black, leather box with a silver embossed fox logo out from under the counter and took off the top, then deliberately placed the wallet and phone inside it. Next, she checked the gun to make sure there wasn’t a bullet in the chamber. She handled it with confidence, as it was also a requirement that all my employees train at a range weekly, paid for by the company.

Taking out the magazine, she put the gun in the box, then locked it in front of me, handing me the key. “As you know, when you leave, you're free to collect your items.”

"I'll be checking her out."

“As long as both Ms. Krapivnik and Mr. Undergrove are comfortable with it.”

“They will be," I grumbled, sighing, annoyed with the strictness of my own standards. “Draw up the paperwork.”

"Yes sir, please hold."

I nodded, ignoring the shy glance from Himari. She’d had a crush on me since the first day we met face to face but kept it hidden well. After a few minutes, she passed over an iPad and I signed it with my finger, then I turned, walked towards the large oak door, and waited patiently. It was beautifully carved with the scene of a fox hiding in a thick forest. His fierce face stared at you as you waited for the door to unlock.

When my family took over, they’d gutted the building and redecorated the whole thing, redone with the intent to deceive.

The outside, nondescript and uninteresting.

The inside, opulent and beautiful, hiding steel doors and bulletproof windows. If you needed a safe place to hide, this was the place to do it, and one of the reasons some of our clients paid outrageous monthly fees.

"Have a pleasant evening," Himari said.

I didn't answer her as the door clicked and I opened it, stepping through. The smell of sage and mahogany hit my nose as I entered the large, three story atrium. Soft sunlight from the dusk outside played over the extravagant decor. Grand stairways swept both sides of the room, with rows of gold and silver doors beyond. I silently passed over the polished hardwood floors, the fox logo burned into the center, and towards the opposite door, this one painted black.

Inside led to a hallway with doors on each side. It was bathed in darkness, with only a soft red light to guide your steps. I stopped at the door labeled ‘10’ and, with my hand on the knob, took a deep breath, and turned it.

I couldn’t see shit.

Frowning, I fumbled with the lamp on the nightstand by the door until I found the switch, bathing the room in a soft, yellow light.

By the look of the room, you wouldn't imagine the monthly fee Rook paid to keep it. It was sparse, with a rickety dresser and an even more rickety twin sized bed. The yellow carpet was sixties style and threadbare.

A room designed with me in mind.

Rook wanted to torture me, and this was his fucked up way of doing it.

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