Page 85 of Mountain Daddy

The interior is destroyed.

Tables overturned. Display cases smashed. The espresso machine lies on its side, chrome dented and pipes bent.

But no Lilly.

I call her name. No answer. She must still be at the police station.

Check the storage room. Empty.

The office behind the counter shows signs of a search. Drawers pulled out. Papers scattered.

They were looking for something. Or someone.

Rage floods my system like molten metal.

They threatened her. Put sticky fingers in my woman’s world. My son's mother.

Unforgivable.

I know how these operations work. Small crew, local muscle. Probably staying at the lodge on the edge of town where they can disappear fast if needed.

A couple of guys they don’t care about. Some low-level enforcers sent to deliver a message.

They have no idea who they're fucking with.

The motel sitslike a scab on the landscape. Twelve rooms arranged in an L-shape around a parking lot that's seen better decades.

Two cars with Chicago plates.

I walk past every room with one ear to each door. Room 7 has male voices inside. Russian accents.

Bingo.

I head out of the building and approach from the back now.

The bathroom window is cracked open. Sloppy security.

Through the gap, I hear them laughing.

"Boss said make it memorable. Think we did good."

"Maybe we should grab the kid. Real leverage. Boss’ll give us a one-up for that."

The kid.

They know about Chleo.

Everything goes red.

I don't remember moving. Don't remember kicking in the door.

One second I'm listening through the window. The next, I'm standing in their motel room with murder in my eyes.

Three men.

The first one reaches for his gun.

Too slow.

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