Page 1 of Like a Hurricane

Prologue

My shoes clip against the shined marble floor of the Lauder Hotel in central Portland, Maine. A crystal chandelier hangs from the high vaulted ceiling, casting a golden hue across the burgundy paneled walls that are home to several rare pieces of art, the frames lavish and gilded, reflecting the light. A couple of well-dressed staff man the front desk, greeting everyone with a professional smile and ending every sentence with a kind ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’.

It was the kind of place I often found myself in. You see, it isn’t the criminals and the masterminds hiring my kind of services, it’s the businessmen wanting to take out their rivals, it’s the wealthy, and prestigious husbands, and wives wishing to take out their spouses. Either because they’ve been wronged, humiliated or divorced and are facing destitution.

Death solves a lot of these people’s problems. Always has and always will.

This was no different.

Victor Lauder is CEO of a very successful and luxurious set of hotels and resorts across the United States, and he’s called on my special set of skills to eliminate a competitor. It isn’t a case of being better in business and the likes, not when he has the kind of money to solve the problem without ever having to lift a finger.

It’s my first job back after I was injured and put in a coma two months ago. I figured why not start again with a simple job, especially when the payout was phenomenal, and the target was going to be easy. And I didn’t even have to travel far after spending so long on the island with my brother and his new wife.

“Good morning,” I greet the young receptionist, her blonde hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, white shirt stretching over her ample chest. Color rises into her cheeks and her eyes widen as I give her a smile and a slow perusal of my eyes, “I’m here to see Victor Lauder. He’s expecting me.”

“I – he – please hold,” The woman stammers, more color blooming on her pale cheeks.

It was early January, and the weather was as predictable as ever, it either snowed or it was overcast with the threat of snow looming. You’d never believe I am a sun man, not when I spend so much time in places that rarely see the sun, but fuck how I’d love to be laid out on a sandy beach right now.

“Mr. Lauder, sir,” the woman stutters into the phone, bringing my attention away from the obnoxiously large doors and the white blanket covering the city, “There’s a gentleman here to see you.”

“Who?” She repeats, panicked eyes jumping to mine.

“Everett Avery.” I tell her.

She repeats my name and then nods furiously, as if the man on the other end could see her. “Of course, sir,” She rushes out, “I’ll send him through right away.”

She struggles to get the phone in the cradle, clearly flustered, “Mr. Lauder is ready for you now, Mr. Avery, if you’d just go through those doors there,” She points to the labeled ‘Staff Only’ doors, “He’s the first door on the right.”

“Thank you…” I pause, glancing at her gleaming gold name plate, “Penny, I’ll be sure to tell him how helpful you’ve been.”

She blushes and I stifle my eye roll at how easy it is, weighing up how much I need a good fuck, since it had been a while, or if I just wanted to get this over and done with. I could have sweet, blushing Penny on her back before the clock struck half past ten if I wanted.

Hey, three months is a long time. I was stuck on an island with my brother and his new pretty wife for months after I was in a coma. A man has needs.

I don’t knock on Victor Lauder’s door once I’ve made it through. He’s a balding man, age lining his face with deep wrinkles that pull on his eyes and mouth. He’s tall and looks relatively fit otherwise and as I let myself into his office, ignoring the gleaming gold name plate attached to the door, his eyes swing to me.

“Mr. Avery!” He jumps up from his large red oak desk, black suit pressed to an inch of its life, and hurries over to me, hand outstretched in greeting.

“Mr. Lauder,” I dip my chin, accepting his hand.

“Please take a seat,” He gestures to the shiny leather chair in front of his desk and as I take it, he settles back behind his desk, straightening his tie, “I appreciate the haste in which you responded to my email.”

I dip my chin again, falling into that persona everyone who has heard of me knows. Sure, outside of the job I had fun but when I was working… I wasn’t the same man.

“I assume you looked over the file I sent you.”

“I did, Mr. Lauder. You wish to take out your competitor and his only son, Kenneth and Malakai Ware.”

He swallows, “Yes.”

“Well, you came to the right person,” I confirm, reaching out my hand for the file, “I require a fifty percent advance before the job is done and the remaining once I’ve sent proof the job is complete.”

“Five hundred thousand, right?” Victor pulls on his collar, “For the whole job.”

“Correct,” I flip open the file, flicking through the small square photographs attached by paperclips to the front page, a selection of images of the father, the owner of an up-and-coming range of new hotels and resorts and his only son, and heir to his enterprise.

His hope was to end them both and put a stop to their growth and remain the front runner for his wealthy clients.

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