Page 11 of Twisted Revelations

7

Dax

With their backs to the door, I’d sneaked into their failed interrogation attempt. The men’s annoyance with Laura had distracted them, and they’d left themselves vulnerable. Neither guilt nor remorse surfaced when I let off two quick rounds, one landing in the back of each of their heads.

They never knew what hit them as the sound of their limp bodies tumbled to the floor. The mess of their blown-out brains left splashes of thick blood and chunks on the floor and ceiling and continued to ooze onto the dirty, checkered floor. I’d done them a favor. A quick death was what you prayed for whenever you’d subjected yourself to this kind of life.

I bent to retrieve the cuff key from one of the stiffs, being careful not to let his exposed parts dirty my new suit. The strong odor of raw bloody meat filled my nostrils and dropped down to my stomach. When I turned his body, a guttural breath escaped his busted lips.

“Who the fuck are you?” Came the heated question that was lobbed at me by the feisty little lady named Laura. She couldn’t have been but an inch over five feet. Her hair was in braids gathered to the right side of her head and hung past her chest.

Her eyes were big brown ovals that sat perfectly in her face. They were the kind of big eyes revered as beautiful. However, hers retained a depth of danger I’d seen reflected in my own.

She wore a fitted, burgundy T-shirt and snug-fitting, ripped jeans that hugged her small curves. She looked like jailbait, and if I didn’t already know her age, I’d assume she was a teen.

According to D, she was a lesbian, so I’d expected a buff dude-woman, not this petite beauty with a good grasp on her femininity. Her appearance had trashed my stereotype of what I’d assumed a lesbian should look like.

“You come near this table, and I’m going to fuck you up too!” she shouted, meaning every word. She may not have had the appearance of a man, but she had the attitude of one.

Although I’d used a silencer, my actions had likely alerted the stiff’s friends. The interrogation was being viewed through a two-way mirror and via the small camera in the corner above Laura’s head.

I’d left two more dead men on the other side of the mirror, who’d been observing what was supposed to have been Laura’s interrogation. They’d been thoroughly entertained by the way she’d handled their friends until I’d shut them up, but the people monitoring the camera feed would have been alerted to my presence. D would eventually, if he already hadn’t, find a way to make whatever they’d recorded disappear.

Laura glared at me with flaring opposition when I aimed and took out the camera.

She was one tough woman. Cuffed to a table, odds stacked against her, and threatened with torture and death, she’d stood tall and fought. Even when she was assuredly about to die, it almost seemed she’d welcomed it. Her eyes had fallen closed before she’d lifted her head and sent them one last “Fuck you.”

Only someone who’d been through hell could embrace death in that manner. I couldn’t help respecting such bravery even as I wondered how I’d convince her I was there to help.

“I have no doubt you’ll attempt to do what you say,” I commented. “But, I’m here to help. You’re Laura, right?”

She didn’t have to confirm what I already knew. My statement was meant to break the ice, but Laura was all fire. I edged closer to the table with caution, holding out the cuff key with her pointing that bloody table leg at me.

“I don’t know you, so your words mean nothing. Toss the key, Mr. Here-to-help,” she spat.

I sat the key atop the table and slid it across before backing off and keeping an eye on the door behind me. Approaching footsteps were faint but growing closer.

The clicking of the cuffs being undone registered as I crept closer to the two-way mirror. With my back against the wall facing Laura, I kept one eye on her and the other on the door.

I hunkered low to hide from anyone who decided to peek in. Once they spotted their men laid out and dead, they’d be ready to kill anything that moved.

Laura’s earlier reaction to the men had paused me too. When I discovered her true intentions—that she was baiting them to kill her—I’d sprang into action.

She eased from behind the table, uncertainty flashing in her gaze that alternated between the dead men and me. A deep crease lined my forehead when she bent across the dead man I’d taken the cuff key from. She peeled back his fingers before she jerked his gun free of his death-clenched hand.

“What are you doing? You don’t need a gun. I’m here to get you out,” I hissed in her direction.

She, of all people, didn’t need a gun in her deadly hands. She didn’t trust me and was crazy enough to shoot me since she hadn’t yet concluded my purpose.

“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” She answered my question with a colorful one of her own as the metal sounded from her cocking the weapon.

“If you’re here to help, you shouldn’t mind me having a gun,” she added, staying in a hunched position before she started to move toward the opposite side of the mirror from me. She pinned her back to the wall and waited.

We couldn’t see through the two-way mirror, but the faint sound of someone’s approach on the other side registered. The door popped open in front of us, and neither of us wasted time pulling our triggers.

The first man caught two to the chest and one to the head, his body jerking violently as the bullets ripped him apart. My shots were silent, and Laura’s rang out loud and sure. The second man at the door had taken a clean headshot from my deadly partner. She was an excellent shot. From my position, I couldn’t see the others, but was aware they lingered outside the door.

When the window shattered between us, I stood, took aim and took out another one. I’d disconnected the hallway lights, so only scant lighting illuminated the area outside the window. I ducked behind the wall to avoid approaching bullets before I chanced a quick peek down the long, dim hall.

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