Jaxx folds his arms. “It’s always about the money. So where is he?”
The guy flicks the cigarette away, “Wentworth? He’s staying at the Skylark.”
“Thanks,” Jaxx says, walking away.
Jaxx gets in the Skylark Hotel with no difficulty and heads up. Pulling free his guns, he steps onto the floor, carefully making his way to the villa suite. Staying pressed against the wall, Jaxx moves to the door. He gives a quick listen at the door as he screws on the suppressors. Facing the door, the air stills as he lifts his leg and smashes it open. Two bodyguards are taken out first, as Jaxx tucks and rolls as another guard comes out from the kitchenette managing to get a round off, but not before Jaxx comes up to his feet and leaves a burn third-eye tattoo on the guy’s forehead.
The silence is deafening as he surveys the room, finding a thin blonde looking wide-eyed at him. She is huddling in a corner of the kitchenette.
“What the hell?”
Jaxx slams the butt of the gun into Wentworth’s face as he flies out of the bedroom. The drunken man falls back, landing face down on the floor. Inside the bedroom, Jaxx spies three other women. Something stirs inside him, and the rage he feels dissipates a little as he thinks of his sister.
“Get out of here, now.”
The women scramble to their feet, grabbing clothes, shoes, purses and run from the suite.
Jaxx reaches down, hoists Wentworth over his shoulder.
The moon illuminates the sky, as Jaxx listens intently on the line as the man talks.
“Vicktor’s men just put Patri on a plane bound for nowhere land. I can make a few calls, set something up for you.”
“Fine, I’ll kill him later.”
Jaxx clicks off, pocketing the phone. He returns his attention to Wentworth. Clicking the blade out, he slides it across the cheek of the young man.
“Wake up,” Jaxx says.
“You fucker, you have any clue who I am?”
“You have any idea who I am?”
Getting a blank stare, Jaxx slides the blade across the soft side of Wentworth’s neck.
“What do you want? You can ask for it, but you’ll never live long enough to enjoy it,” Wentworth says.
Jaxx chuckles, “I want your skin. I think you’ll fork it over.”
Wentworth’s eyes pop as Jaxx tears the shirt from his chest. He lifts the blade for the smug bastard to see. Jaxx isn’t one for slow and methodical torture, as he’s a bullet through the eyes man, but a point needs to be made. No one touches my sister.
Returning the switchblade to his pocket, Jaxx walks up to the table where he has a scalpel waiting. He slides it along his thumb watching the blood ooze, turns holding it up for Wentworth to see.
“Shall we begin?”
“Look. Hey. Look. Maybe we can make a deal.”
“Of course,” Jaxx says. “You can scream all you want and I promise to kill you, when it’s over.”
The phone call comes to mind then, no matter how he tries to shove it away. He can still hear his sister’s voice filled with fear. Someone had slapped her around, brutally. They could come for him, but he never thought they’d use her to get to him. Was I naive?
The screaming would last for an hour until Wentworth passed out. Setting the bloody scalpel down, and pulling off his gloves, Jaxx walks over to the table where Wentworth’s jacket is. Digging through the pockets, he finds the vibrating Blackberry.
“Wentworth?”
“No.”
“Who the hell are you and what have you done to my son?” the female asks.
“You’ll learn soon enough.”
“You -”
“Hold your tongue bitch, I’m coming for you next.” Jaxx clicks off, walking out of the room onto the balcony.
Jaxx leans against the wall, watching as dawn arrives and last embers of night die away. He sets the phone down, heading inside. Removing his shirt and pants, he slides his hands into some non-stick gloves before walking over to Wentworth to drag the skinless man out.
“Wh-wh-”
“It’s okay, I hear it’s like floating,” Jaxx says, lifting him onto the ledge. “See ya sport.”
Vicktor holds Maxine as she trembles. She stares at her son’s lifeless, unrecognizable, skinned face. The revulsion is nothing compared to the maternal roar that escapes her. Maxine pushes Vicktor away, screaming. Who would dare? she wonders. Eventually, her tears stop, replaced with soft authoritative clicks. Looking over her shoulder, Maxine watches as the woman and her bodyguard approach.
“Thank you detective,” the woman says.
“No problem.”
She next focuses her gaze on Maxine and simply smiles.
“You think this is funny?” Maxine asks.
“Never.”
Fed up, Maxine leaves, heading back to the waiting limo, thinking about the voice on the other end of her son’s phone. She whirls around jabbing an angry finger at the leather-clad woman.
“This must not go unanswered,” Maxine yells in Russian.
“I’ll find the person responsible for this,” the lady in leather purrs, also in Russian.
Maxine’s eyes grow calm. “Bring me his lifeless corpse.”
“But of course,” she says.
Maxine watches the woman and her bodyguard stroll to a waiting town car, climb in and drive away.
“She had better not fail.”
Vicktor offers her his arm. “She will not.”
Around mid-day, Jaxx ends up in an alley between two financial buildings coming out in front of a storage unit complex. He slips by the guard making his way to his locker.
A gentle smile comes to him as he enters the unit. Here he keeps his prized weapons. These aren’t the average old world Lugers or vintage samurai swords; no these are weapons one would never hear about unless you were deep in the Amazon or other such places. It seems like a strange place to keep such items, but Jaxx has an arrangement. However, he’s not here to reminisce, here he has come for a specific gun, a sniper rifle to be exact.
He had held on to this particular piece, uncertain as to why until now. The city had been wrong to taunt him, he realizes, but nonetheless he would need her for one last job, one last time in this city, and so snapping shut the case, he leaves.
6:15, her watch says. Maxine scrunches her nose into the tissue, glaring at the woman across from her desk. Maxine despises her, but in this game, a woman with her talents is needed. Sighing as she swivels in her chair, Maxine forces herself to remain calm. Being in this office, so high up, makes no sense to her, yet Victor had insisted they would be safe.
“Relax Vicktor,” the other woman purrs.
“Oh please,” Maxine says. “There’s a fucking psycho on the loose. He has killed my son and you want us to relax?”
“Mrs. Jordon, you said he made it clear he was coming for you. I will suggest once again until he has been…”
“Run? Do I look like a coward?”
The woman glances up at Sergey. The man remains expressionless.
“I am not running,” says Maxine.
The woman raises a hand to check her nails. “Very well, Mrs. Jordon. If you’ll excuse me I’ll go check with my contacts, and see if there is a name to this assassin.”
The bitch thinks she’s clever, but she isn’t, Maxine thinks, brushing a hand at her. The woman gives a snide smirk taking Sergey’s hand and stands.
“Come, Sergey.”
Maxine looks over at Vicktor, hating him more as he paces. Fucking weak man.
Outside the office, the woman in leather smiles to herself, having every confidence in Jaxx’s ability. He would do what he does best and soon she would be queen.
“I wish to God I could be a fly in this building, Sergey. I would love to see Maxine bleed, and that husband of hers… Oh well. Shall we exit?”
Sergey pushes open the emergency exit door and she walks by, descending the stairs, chuckling.