Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (9 page)

“
Jules,
shut it.”

She’s silent for a
moment then asks the same questions over again.

In a huff, I take a
joint out of the drawer and toss it on the bed. “Inhale, deeply, or I’m
gonna
put a pillow over your face.”

“Geez. What if I
don’t smoke?”

I give her a look of
disbelief as I settle back into the chair.

“Fine.”

“Remind me never to
make love to you again.”

“Ha! You said it!”

“The lighter’s next
to the bed, smoke it,” I request while checking my email, bank accounts, and
the system for the names of my guests. It’s possible someone’s here with
Dayne
and wouldn’t I be the fool if his sidekick’s staying
in my hotel. I also need to search through some of my security cam footage to
see what kind of car
Dayne
drives and the direction
he took off in yesterday. I’ll need to check the back property footage and live
cams as well. I’m going hunting for this dickhead.

“You’re gawking,” I
say, keeping my face in my computer. “I can feel your eyes burning a hole in my
head.”

“I can’t remember
the last time I’ve been this happy. Will you talk to me now?”

“I can talk as I run
through some video.”

Her feet rub against
mine, causing my pulse to accelerate.

“Are you bi?” she
asks in a mellower voice.

“Does it matter?”

“No, I’m just curious.”

“No.”

“So it’s something
you did for your dad’s porn company then?”

I nod.

“Was it enjoyable?”

“Just with one.”

I continue viewing
footage and she sits quietly, still staring and waiting patiently for me to
reveal more without her constant questioning. A few minutes pass before she
eagerly nudges my feet.

“What?” I ask
softly.

“Why only one? What
made him different from all the rest?”

I exhale and decide
to pay attention until her questions fade. Giving her what she desires, no
matter how disturbing the answer. Eventually, she’ll realize she doesn’t want
to hear anything about my past.

“My father was in
love with him and I was jealous of that relationship. I was smitten because he
was young and handsome, easy to control, and in need of saving.”

“Did you?”

“What, save him?”

She nods.

“No. I fucked him
when I was told and then he disappeared for a while. I think the reason I was
drawn to the guy was because I wished I could be him, but only based on my
father’s interest. I’m convinced my father wanted him as a son instead of me.”

“That’s sick, Mark.”

“You asked.”

“You still talk to
him?”

“I don’t have much
choice since he married my sister.”

“What?” She sits up
unexpectedly with wide, red eyes.

“They didn’t meet
until a few years after I was with him. So it’s not like I was screwing my
brother-in-law. And I doubt my sister is even aware of all the details. The
less she knows, the better.”

“Holy fuck.” She
falls back on the bed. “You were with your sister’s husband?”

“I already said it
wasn’t like that.”

“Am I high? Like,
really high?”

“Yeah.” I grin.

“Are you fucking
with me? You are, right?”

I laugh. Maybe this
is
the perfect time to tell her all the
shit she wants to hear. “Sometimes, I pretend like I’m in love with him and he
freaks out, cowering like a dog. It’s good fun.”

“Good fun for him
too? Is it a friendly relationship?”

“No, he gets pissed
at me, and he hasn’t a clue I adore him in a little brother kind of way. And
he’s got a few problems, like when he drinks, he’s a jackass.”

She covers her eyes
with her forearm to block the bedroom light.

“
Ohh
,
why did I ask?” she sighs. “Okay, new subject. Do you remember any of your
dreams from when you were a kid?”

“What sort of
dreams, you mean what I wanted to be when I grew up?” I question, dimming the
lamp on the table next to us.

“No, actual dreams.
Do you remember any of them? I always dreamt about falling. Falling off a
cliff, out of hot air balloons, from trees. Falling, falling, falling. But
those dreams are probably rather common.”

“Where do these
random questions come from?” I ask with no response.

I think for a
moment, knowing one dream that has always haunted me, but unsure if she can
handle something dark after the other crap. I probe for something else but
nothing comes to mind.

“Anything?” she
asks. “Anything at all?”

“A nightmare I had
when I was seven or eight has always stuck with me, but I don’t want you to get
all freaked out if I tell you.”

“Why, is it about
me?” She peers out from her arm.

“No, I said I was a
kid.” I shake my head. “It was disturbing and since you’re high...”

“Go ahead. I can
handle disturbing.”

“Remember, you
asked.” I place my hands on the arms of the chair and lean back. “In this
dream, I entered the kitchen of my childhood home and my mother was taking a
pie out of the oven. She asked me if I wanted a piece and when I looked to see
what kind it was, I saw my sister’s head baked inside. My mother began slicing
it and I was fixed in terror, unable to run away, you know like those cartoons
where the feet move but the character doesn’t get anywhere? That was
me
. I woke up in a sweat and crept to the kitchen to see if
it had really happened. The dream was so vivid; the smells, colors, voices,
temperature of the oven, it was like I had actually witnessed it. I couldn’t
separate my dream from reality and became paranoid. I felt helpless and panicky
for days.”

“Jesus Christ, Mark.
You
are
fucking with me, aren’t you?
You said that thing about reality and dreams because I’m stoned and now I can’t
figure out what
is
reality, here and
now. You did that on purpose.” She kicks my leg and stands. “You have any
snacks?”

“Help yourself, but
come right back. Bring whatever you find upstairs with you,” I say on her way
out. “And remind me not only to never make love to you again, but never to give
you any of my weed either.”

“Ha-ha, smart ass,”
she says from the stairs. “I swear half the shit that comes out of your mouth
is a lie.”

“It’s all real,
Jules. I’m not fucking with you!” I call downstairs. “What else do you want to
know?”

“Mark, you don’t
have any food!” she yells.

“Check the pantry!”

She reappears a few
minutes later and flops on the bed, holding a box of Saltines. “I can’t believe
this is all you have.”

“I eat at the
restaurant every day or have room service deliver food. You want me to call
them?”

“No, this is fine.
It’s just odd that you have such an elegant kitchen and it’s empty. And you
really like storm cloud colors, don’t you? Every wall in your place is dark
grey, your furniture is all dark brown or black; even your kitchen cabinets are
a blue-grey.”

“Don’t get crumbs on
my
black
comforter.”

She salutes me as a
soldier would a senior officer and tastes the cracker. Next, I just know she’ll
need something to drink.

“Don’t give me any
more pot. I feel like an idiot and probably sound like one too. Plus, my head’s
sizzling,” she says. “How often do you smoke?”

“Not often.” I
continue rifling through the video. It’s odd that she’s not asking about
Dayne
. Maybe she got the drift last night when I refused to
talk about him, but then again, that’s never stopped her before.

I glance at her
adoring face as she nibbles and swallows dryly, then nibbles again like a tiny
bird. Her hands and feet are small and delicate. Her eyes gleam tenderly when
she looks at me. I trust her.

I’ve checked all of
her social media sites and didn’t run across anything unusual. She’s lived here
her entire life and as far as I can tell, she has no connection to Vegas or
Dayne
.

“What?” she
whispers.

“There’s a glass in
the bathroom if you need some water.”

“You read my mind.”
She’s slow to rise and starting to reach a more tranquil state for the night,
kissing me on the top of the head as she walks by.

Now, if I could
only... well, I’ll be sucked, fucked, and tattooed. Jackpot. There’s a brief shot
of
Dayne
from yesterday, getting into the passenger
seat of an old orange Datsun pick-up truck, but the person behind the wheel is
unrecognizable. I zoom in and still no luck. The truck is too far from the
camera, the visor is down, and the face is blurred as they drive off in a rush.

At least my
suspicions were right. Someone got that prick a gun and drove him here.

I fiddle with my
watch and wonder if I should make a quick run through town to see if I can spot
the truck, or if I should just wait ‘til morning. He can’t still be hiding out
in the woods. Once he took the shot the bastard would’ve booked knowing I’m on
full alert. And as long as everyone stays inside, it’s safe for Jules and the
other suite to be alone, but once outdoors everyone’s an open target.

Real men don’t drag shit out for days like pussies.

Yeah, Dad, I know.

“Jules, I need to
check on the hotel and staff before I call it a night. Promise me you’ll stay
in this room.”

“Will you be
disappointed if I fall asleep?”

“I’d prefer it.”

She undresses and
burrows under the comforter, resting her head peacefully on the pillow. “I
promise.”

“I’ll be gone for
about an hour. Stay naked so we can fuck when I get back.”

I pat my holster,
making sure I have my gun, strap a second one above my ankle, and pull a new
switchblade from my dresser.

Julia’s eyes are
already closed when I turn off the light next to the bed and whisper in her
ear, “Or, if you’d like, we can make
love
.”

I sense her smile in
the darkness as I walk out of the room.

Evil woman.

INTO THE DARKNESS

T
he orange
Datsun is in plain sight; parked three short miles from my hotel at the
ramshackle Pine Mountain Motor Lodge. It’s a one-story shithole, painted dark
green with black trim. The type of place that has weekly room rates for deadbeats
like
Dayne
, or hourly rates for high school kids
needing a place to lose their virginity.

I park less than a
hundred feet away in a used car lot and walk behind the motel with my gun
drawn, counting the small bathroom windows until I reach his room. I want to
know who’s with him and if there’s a chance I know this other person. If I have
to take both men down tonight, I will.

I’d expect the
asshole to go after my sister and brother-in-law in St. Louis first.
Dayne’s
a creature of habit and despises them both. But it
looks like he’s doing a one-eighty and starting with me. I guess if I’m out of
the way then he’s free to take his time torturing the rest of my family, but I
never expected him to attempt a kill before finding out the truth about his
father.

I take a deep
breath, look around, and peer into the bathroom window.

Well, I’ll be...
tits
. He’s got a woman with him? Maybe she’s a hooker, damn
it, this could complicate things.

She’s toweling her
legs with her ass in the air and tits hanging down that look ready for a good
suck. And knowing
Dayne
, that ass and those tits are
well used.

Her skin is white as
snow and blemish free, but I can’t see her face when she stands and covers her
head in the towel. She’s short, curvy, and
..
.
fuck
, there’s a Jameson Industries tattoo on her shoulder,
just like mine. She
is
flawed. The
wench worked for my father.

Damn it.

I move away from the
window, suddenly sick to my stomach, and oddly, I believe it’s not because of
the tat. I admit it; now that I’m so enamored by Jules, I actually feel guilty
that I gazed at this woman’s body.

“Stop being such a
wussy boy,” I whisper, rubbing my gun under my chin while figuring out what to
do next. I have another look inside and notice the bathroom door’s open, but I
don’t see
Dayne
or any weapons in the room. And if he
were around, he’d be groping that woman’s flesh. Since he’s not here, I’ll have
to deal with the dick monkey later, alone, without getting the woman involved.

He probably took off
to a bar. In which case he could be gone for hours. I’m not spending my entire
night waiting around when I’ve got warm flesh in my bed. Anyway, it’s fucking
nasty behind this dump.

I walk cautiously to
my truck, start the engine, and pull onto the highway.

“I hate it that you parked
that Datsun in plain sight. You’re waving the orange carrot in front of the
rabbit’s face. You
gonna
use
the woman as a decoy? Come on, fucker, you drew me in, now where’s the trap?”

Crap in hell. I
immediately think about the hotel, the private suites, and my possessions. I
bet he’s there. I’m in a panic, feeling like an idiot, and unable to drive back
quickly enough. He lured me away. But there’s no way he could’ve gotten inside
either place. No way. Fuck, I should’ve told Jules not to answer the door.

I’ll contact her
after this call to my second suite.

Come on, pick up.
Pick up.

“Yeah?”

“Everything okay?” I
ask. “The doors are closed and the lights are off?”

“Is he in the
hotel?”

“Maybe. Just stay
put.”

“Jesus, Mark.”

“I’m taking care of
it.”

“No fuck this, I’m
coming out and I’ll take care of him.”

“Don’t even think
about moving your ass. Get real.”

There’s silence and
a sigh.

“Stay put.” I hang
up then call Jules in a rush. No answer. Shit, I doubt she was carrying her
cell when I took her to my place.

“Almost there,
almost there.” I tap the steering wheel.

The hotel’s glowing
in the woods as I drive up the dark road, veering to the right toward my
private underground garage. I look around before opening the door, then shut it
immediately once inside.

I exhale, draw my
gun, and step out of my truck.

“If he laid a finger
on her...”

Two steps toward my
door and I hear swift movements from the truck bed. There’s the fucking trap.
It’s him.

I’m charged and a
speedy fist hits my jaw.

My gun flies from my
hand.

I’m down.

He’s on my back and
my head gets slammed into the concrete.

“You fuck!” he
shouts.

Blood trickles down
my forehead as I reach for the gun, but it’s too far away.

“Fucking Jameson
piece of shit.” He pulls my arm back and spits on the side of my face. “I’m
gonna
have a blast killing you.”

My other hand
reaches for my blade in my front pocket.

“I’m done using
pussy ass guns, douchebag, that’s too quick and easy.”

I got the knife in
my hand.

“I’d rather take my time
dismembering you, starting with your fingers, toes, and then your arms...”

The blade opens and
in a rush I swing my free arm back, forcing it in his side.

“
Aaugh
!”

I pull out and
thrust in again.

“Fuck!” He releases
my arm and in a quick turn, I’m able to jab it in his gut.

His jaw drops as he
clutches my wrist. I turn the blade, causing an agonizing sound to erupt as he
falls forward.

“Dubious,
Dayne
, you motherfucker,” I seethe, pushing him to the
ground.

Rolling on top, I
put wounds in his thighs then stab each shoulder and force another deep cut
into his stomach, trying not to hit a major artery. I want his blood to trickle
out, not spurt. “Who’s the woman at the motel?” I ask, taking a gun from his
jacket pocket. I close my blade and cock the gun, pointing it at his head.
“Damn, it’s so easy to shoot a man, but the kill is too quick, isn’t it?” I
pause and look at the suffering in his face. “Tell me about the whore.”

He stays quiet as
blood tints his clothing.

“You don’t look so
hot. You should’ve just shot me. Then you wouldn’t be in this predicament.” I
stand and he covers his gut with shaky hands then rolls on his side.

“What now?” he
wheezes.

“You have to ask?”

“You’re not your
father, Mark.”

I laugh and
continue. “My garage is equipped with plenty of rope...”

“Your dad wasn’t a
meek pussy.”

“And I’m decent at
hog-tying...”

“
He
would’ve shot me dead a day ago.”

“We can go on a road
trip together...”

“You’re nothing but
a wannabe drowning in shoes too big to fill,” he gasps from the pain. “A former
Paul Jameson... bootlicking-groupie-stooge...” he inhales and mumbles,
“...imperious prick porn star.” His eyes shut then flutter back open. “You know
he hated you... you’re nothing.”

My foot presses into
his bleeding thigh and a groan hangs in the air. “No,
Dayne
.
I’m exceptional.”

“You got lucky,
nothing more. I’m old and slow, just shoot me,” he gurgles with a blood-covered
stomach. “Kill the race horse with the broken leg and put it out of its
misery.”

I pace, trying to
figure out how long he’s got before he’s dead. This asshole needs to experience
something while he’s still alive and I want him to tell me about the woman. I
bet I have an hour or two before he fades away. That should be enough time.

He tries a final
grab toward my neck when I tie his feet, but falls short. I flip him over and
tie his hands and elbows behind his back, then connect all three areas with a
firm knot.

“Tell me why you
killed my father,” he says.

“Oh yeah, I forgot
that’s why you’re here.”

“You little
dickhead. Why?”

“Now, now,
Dayney
boy,” I pat his greasy hair, “you know full well
your father was a rapist and not fit for this earth. All rapists should die.
But, that doesn’t mean
I
killed him.
He made the right choice that day by committing suicide.”

“You sick fuck. Your
father was the rapist.”

“Well, then. I guess
it’s a good thing they’re both dead, right?” I pick my gun up off the floor and
give him a hard kick to the abdomen, before unlocking the door to my stairwell.
“Don’t go anywhere,” I laugh, “I’ll be back with a friend.”

My suite is two
flights up and pleasantly serene when I enter. Jules is sound asleep.

Hoping she doesn’t
stir, I close the bathroom door and wash the blood off my face and the blade, then
change quietly into a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and sneakers before giving her a
light kiss on her soft cheek.

“My sleeping
beauty,” I whisper.

The blade is in the
pocket of my hoodie and one gun is in my ankle holster. I keep
Dayne’s
gun in the back waist of my pants and leave the
other behind. I’m overcompensating with all these weapons for an incapacitated
man who’s nearly dead on my garage floor, but at the same time, I don’t know
anything about his woman.

I close the bedroom
door and step silently downstairs to the corridor outside my suite. There’s a
late arrival in the hallway and I wait for the couple to enter their room
before walking past. Blood drips down my forehead and gets wiped on my sleeve.
My vision’s blurry. Plus, my head’s pounding. The fucker probably gave me a
concussion.

I put my head down
and hood up then walk to the opposite end of the hotel. What I have to do next,
asking for
help,
is going to sting more than a little.

“Let’s get the show
on the road,” I whisper and knock three times on the door.

It’s silent and I
knock again.

“You’re bleeding,” a
voice responds. “A lot.”

“No shit,” I say.
“Open the door.”

“Is it safe?”

“It’s
safer
.”

“What happened?”

“Open the fucking
door.” I lose my cool then regret the tone, not wanting to wake the guests.
“Listen to me,” I whisper with my fingers on the steel, “I need a second set of
hands to put the fat shit in my truck.”

“When?”

“Now. He’s like a
beached whale. Hurry up.”

There’s mumbling
behind the door then silence.

“I’m not going to
stand here and discuss this for twenty minutes. Get your ass out here.”

“Give me a minute.”

There’s more
mumbling then a lock clicks, the door opens, and my brother-in-law, Cove, steps
out.

I shake my head at
my sister before she quickly shuts the door in my face.

“Fuck, what’s up her
ass?” I ask. “And look at you, hot shot with the mountain man facial hair. Is
that a new look or just a horrible disguise?” I place my hand on his back as we
walk to my suite.

“Don’t start, Mark.
I’m not in the mood for your shit.”

“And you’re bathing
in a new cologne.” I inhale deeply. “
Vodka
in the Woods,
perhaps? I hope you’re sober enough to do this.”

“I’m not drunk, but
maybe I should be. What are we doing anyway?”

“What are we doing?
We’re living, Cove. Living the good life.”

He pushes my hand
away and strides forward.

It’s too bad I
needed to ask for his help, but I’m glad he’s here with my sister and the kids.
I know he’d never admit it, but my extra suite is the safest place for them.
They were sitting ducks in St. Louis.

And it didn’t take
much persuading to get my sister on board with the idea. All I had to do was
send her an image of
Dayne’s
face and she was eager
to be in
my
protective custody.

Sophia and I despised
one another growing up, which isn’t surprising. Our home life sucked. We even
went a few years without speaking to one another when we were in our twenties.
She finally came around to my dark humor and menacing personality a few years
ago. We still bicker incessantly and have a love-hate relationship, but in her
heart she knows I’m more of a guardian than her husband. I’ll get the job done
and I’ve always got her back. No one’s going to hurt my little sister.

She also says I’m a
control freak. And so what? I can admit to that.

“How the fuck did he
manage to sneak his ass into your place?”

“Let’s not discuss
this in the corridor,” I whisper, keeping
Dayne’s
covert hideout in my truck bed a secret. “How you been?”

“Is that supposed to
be some kind of a joke? You know I can’t stand being locked inside a room.”