12:00 AM
My Rolex read midnight as I dashed out of the hotel room, Maria's hand gripped tightly in mine while I practically pulled her along behind me.
The curvaceous 22-year-old still wore the slinky red dress that she'd slid out of and tossed aside less than an hour before, but was luckily the kind of woman who thought ahead. In her purse she'd had a pair of flats to replace her high heels, and now an out-of-place pair of Converse shoes hit the floor one after the other as she hurried in my wake.
As we ran for the elevator, thoughts raced through my mind like they had been for the last 10 minutes. I was neither Bourne nor Bond, but I was glad I'd seen enough action films to give me an idea of what might be coming next.
This is nothing like a movie,
a tiny voice in my head told me.
Very soon, you are going to die. There is nothing you can do about it.
And it was all over a fucking misunderstanding.
The hallway was expensively carpeted in a lush red material — I could feel my feet sinking into it ever so slightly with every stride — and the wall to my right was entirely glass. The view looking out over the City from this height was breathtaking, and only available in a few luxury high rise towers like the Palace One — the hotel I was currently hell-bent on escaping. Most nights I would have savored the beautiful skyline, the shining lights and contrasting darkness. But most nights I didn't have a contract out on my life from one of the most dangerous Mob bosses in the city for the crime of kidnapping and sleeping with his daughter. Tonight, the glow of the city lights looked ominous, scaring me like search lights beaming into the sky would frighten an escaping convict.
Overprotective father, huh?
I grumbled silently as we dashed up to the elevators and I hit the "Down" button five or six more times than was strictly necessary. I was remembering how Maria had originally explained to me the fact that she'd been accompanied by bodyguards into the club where I'd met her.
Homicidal father, more like
.
Ding.
The elevator doors slid open, just as I realized that if this were a movie the bad guys would be waiting inside with weapons at the ready. Their machine guns would fill me as full of holes as Swiss cheese and I'd fall to the ground in slow motion as Maria screamed and covered her face with her hands.
I flinched sideways, an involuntary gasp escaping as I yanked Maria out of the line of fire.
The elevator was empty.
Maria gulped, then put a hand on my arm. "It's alright, Jason," she murmured. "We're still safe... For now."
"Thanks..." I muttered sarcastically, then scowled at myself as she flinched. "Sorry," I said, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
The gorgeous brunette looked up at me, her lips full and begging to be kissed. My eyes sharpened and I could practically taste her tongue, feel her round breasts beneath my hands and her hardening nipples against my palms. Her hair would tangle in my fingers as I pulled her head back and kissed down her throat, down the valley of cleavage and —
I wrenched my eyes away from her fantastic figure and met her gaze. Her lust for me was still flowing strong through her body, simply masked by the stress and fear of the moment, and with my ability I had unintentionally picked up on it.
Focus, man.
I ordered myself sternly.
Your gift is the only advantage you have.
It was a small one, I knew, but my only chance at surviving the night would be to find Maria's father — the notorious Antonio San Luca — and use my ability to make him call off the hit.
It was going to be a long night.
As the elevator swiftly dropped away beneath our feet, I tried to slow down and catch up to my racing thoughts. Maria was silent beside me, her face tight with worry. Calling her father had done nothing — he either didn't believe that she'd come with me of her own free will or didn't care — so it appeared that familial diplomacy was a dead end. Sticking one hand into my pocket and searching around, I tried to run through my assets.
Money.
The slim leather wallet I carried had several hundred dollars in cash as well as several credit and debit cards.
Car.
The key fob to my sleek Jaguar F-Type was smooth and rounded under my fingers.
Hostage.
I winced mentally as my eyes flickered over to Maria once again. I snarled internally and brushed aside the unworthy thought. I might not be much of a gentleman, but I wasn't going to turn this girl into some sort of bargaining chip.
Alright,
I thought.
You have a mode of transportation and a couple of benjamins. What're your liabilities?
My mind, trying to spiral out of control, grasped at the question as a way to maintain sanity. Good. I'd long ago realized that, while complex and incredibly useful, the brain is really just a super sophisticated question and answer machine. If I fed it the right questions, I might have a chance at surviving the night. If I let it run down the rails out of control, I might not make it beyond the hotel lobby. So, when I asked my brain to analyze the scenario, reason cut into the silent, animalistic buzz of fear and started to reassert dominance.
Liabilities. Alright...
Luckily, I was used to high-tension circumstances. Dating, pick-up and life-coaching all necessitate an ability to stay cool under pressure, and as the number one coach in the City I dealt with more pressure than anyone. Then again, I'd never had a mob boss order men with guns to kill me on sight. I shook my head and snapped back to reality. Focus, dammit.
I don't know who's coming after us.
I silently ticked off items as I ran through the list.
I don't know how or when or where. And I don't know where Antonio San Luca is...
A sudden chill shot through me.
What if he isn't even in the City?
There was a simple answer for that question. There would be no way for me to get to him and change his mind before one of his hit squads caught up with me. My brain, the sophisticated Q&A box, gave me my answer with ruthless simplicity.
Then I'm dead.
"Maria?" I asked, my throat felt dry so I think I might have had just the slightest rasp in my voice.
