Hunters by Matt Rogers (books for 5 year olds to read themselves .TXT) 📕

breed to us. If your men lay so much as a finger on us on the way out, there won’t be any pretence of an act to worry about. They will all come for you, and you’ll wish my friend here choked you to death. Understand?’

‘I do.’

‘Now walk us out.’

‘And then?’

‘Once we’re in the wind, do whatever you want. Blame us. Use our descriptions. Do whatever you please to save your own skin. You’ve earned that much.’

Vásquez nodded, but it wasn’t an optimistic agreement. Violetta understood. Whatever he said, he’d be killed or imprisoned regardless, stripped of the empire he’d used to so callously blackmail the President. But it was smart to give him hope, make him think there might be a way out of this, so he didn’t get nihilistic and kill them out of spite.

Violetta repeated, ‘Now walk us out.’

Vásquez blinked to try and ease some of the bloodshot veins in his eyes. It achieved nothing. He took a deep breath and said, ‘What if I don’t?’

Violetta raised an eyebrow.

‘I’m sure you two are very important to the people you work with. Perhaps there’s a romantic connection there? You’d make valuable hostages.’

Alexis could have pounced on him in his weakened state, applied the same choke, or broken his arm with a kimura, or torn his Achilles with a heel hook.

She did none of those things.

She just stood there, loomed over him, and stared at him silently.

Violetta said, ‘You could. But you won’t do that. And you know you won’t.’

Vásquez struggled to his feet. Sized them up.

Thought about it.

But not for long.

He extended his hand toward the locked doors. ‘After you, ladies.’

Alexis noted his neck, the damage clearly visible and getting worse with each passing second. She said, ‘If they ask…’

Vásquez said, ‘It was a rough session.’

‘And you go first. Not us.’

He nodded defeatedly.

All resistance gone.

He led them out of the bedchamber and into the long hallway leading to the landing that overlooked the lobby. The pair of guards had their backs to the hallway, their hands on the marble balustrade separating the top of the landing from a plunging drop to the marble floor. They were diligent in protecting the bedroom from exterior threats. They hadn’t considered the threat was within.

They turned as Vásquez and the women approached.

One of the guards couldn’t stop his eyes from widening when he noticed Vásquez’s throat.

‘Sir, are you—’

Vásquez shot him a glare. ‘That’s my business. Do your job.’

The guard straightened, but Violetta caught the sly smirk he shot to his partner as they passed them by.

The boss is into some kinky stuff, huh?

Vásquez stopped at the top step of the left-hand staircase and swept his hand down it. ‘Thank you for your time. It was enjoyable.’

Violetta re-adopted the southern drawl. ‘Ain’t that the truth, honey.’

She saw the guards behind Vásquez visibly fantasising out of the corner of her eye.

What they’d do for a single night…

She and Alexis took the stairs daintily, playing up their roles, and found a solitary guard in the middle of the lobby waiting for them. He raised his eyebrows at them, and Violetta felt her core tense involuntarily. She hadn’t seen this man on the way in.

If he blocks our path…

There was nothing they could do, unarmed and surrounded by men with automatic weapons who outweighed them by dozens of pounds each.

But his surprise wasn’t directed at them.

As they walked past him, he turned and peered up at the landing, meeting Vásquez’s gaze.

He called up, ‘Busy night tonight, señor?’

‘¿Qué—?’ Vásquez’s confusion was authentic.

The guard chuckled. Violetta figured he was the head of security, able to speak his mind to his employer rather than fall into line obediently.

The guard said, ‘One after the other? Are you taking anti-ageing pills you didn’t tell me about? This is like the old days…’

Vásquez said, ‘What are you talking about?’

Violetta and Alexis were almost at the huge front doors. The great slabs of wood loomed over them.

Over their shoulders, they heard the guard say, ‘You weren’t told about the next one?’

‘What next one?’

‘She showed us a message from you. Inviting her in.’

‘I didn’t invite anyone, you stupid bastard.’

Before the guard could respond, Violetta was already reaching for the door handle.

Whatever it was, it was bad news.

Then the door swung inward before her fingers grasped the handle.

Antônia stepped in, her figure clad scantily in a cocktail dress that left nothing to the imagination.

They recognised each other in unison.

97

Slater closed the front door as best he could.

He’d snapped the lock, so instead of clicking smoothly shut it hung jagged on its hinges, unable to close all the way.

He turned, put his back to the door, and slid down it, all the fight sapped out of him.

It had been a hell of a morning.

He came face-to-face with the cowering diplomats. There were three in the reception area and one behind the glass-walled desk. The space was small and reeked of fear. Alonzo stood beside him, unsure of himself. He’d been in custody thirty minutes ago, rapidly accepting his fate. Now everything was unclear.

The consul hadn’t moved. He watched Slater slide down the door with pure disdain.

‘Out,’ he demanded. ‘You have no business here.’

Slater shook his head, his every move wearing the fatigue of the previous forty-eight hours. ‘That wouldn’t go well for you.’

‘I will not be threatened.’

‘I’m not the one making the threat,’ Slater muttered. ‘You’ll be getting a call any—’

A phone on the reception desk rang.

The plump woman in the office chair behind it made to answer, but the consul cut her off with the snap of two fingers. He crossed curtly to the glass barrier, reached under it, and removed the landline from its cradle. He pulled it by the cord under the slot, lifted it to his ear, and switched to Spanish.

‘Hello?’

An answer came through the line, and the consul jolted as if electrocuted. He stood bolt upright, his rounded shoulders straightening.

‘Yes, El Presidente,’ he said in a tone that conveyed barely-suppressed fear. ‘Of course. It would be an honour.’ Another pause,