Mr. President 1(188)
I believe him.
He may not be telling me the whole story, but remember how I said I was a good judge of character?
I believe him.
I remember that dirty grin on Lester’s face, the look of satisfaction as he saw me standing over the balcony, and rage flares up inside of me once more. I don’t think I have ever been this angry before. I don’t care how long it takes, or how much it’s going to cost. Lester is not walking away from this scott fucking free.
Whatever it takes, I’m going to bring that motherfucker down.
“There you are, you nasty bitch,” I hear someone say right behind me. I turn on my heels and find the two men that were chasing after me. They must have creeped their way up the alley, and now they have pinned me between them and the car I was hiding behind. I look from one side to the other, but there’s no escape possible. I can’t run, and I can’t fight… and they know it.
75
Austin
Dirty Destiny looks like a fucking war zone right now. It should probably be called Battlefield. People are shouting and screaming, and the cops are rounding up everyone they can lay their hands on.
NYPD that’s storming up the place are wearing tactical uniforms, and I have to wonder what the hell happened for a raid like this to do down in here. I mean it’s a fucking strip club. They’re making it look like a haven for fucking ISIS.
Either way, none of this shit fucking matters; what matters is that I have to find Destiny.
I start running toward the stairs, but that’s when I hear someone screaming right behind me. “GET THE FUCK DOWN!” one of the policemen shouts, pointing his gauge shotgun right to my face.
I stare him down and, moving slowly, I start raising my arms up in the air. “DOWN! I SAID DOWN!” he continues shouting, but I just take one cold-blooded step toward him. He points his shotgun up at the air and fires toward the ceiling, but I don’t even flinch.
Fuck this motherfucker.
I know, cool it.
Don’t look at me like that, okay? I know I shouldn’t be taking on the police.
But today I can’t risk any fucking delays either.
I take a few deep breaths and back the fuck down.
But if I get dragged down to a police station, Strokes is going to have a hard time handling the transfer of the new girls to Python all by herself. Not to mention that the police might decide to investigate Python after finding me here.#p#分页标题#e#
Yeah, fuck it, I’m not taking a chance.
I take a deep breath, ready to go for the shotgun in the cop’s hands, but that’s when the lights go off. The whole place goes fucking dark, and all the doors that lead out swing open.
I use the momentary confusion to blend with the scared crowd once more, slipping out of a sight before the cop has a chance to unload his shotgun on me.
Out of the corner of my eye I see someone I’d rather not see: Lester fucking Vicks. That motherfucker is running this show. I should’ve realized this right from the start.
Somehow, I have a feeling that he’s doing this to Destiny because of me.
But how? And why?
The answers will have to come out later; right now, I need to find Destiny and make sure that she’s safe. But first, I fish my cell phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text message to Strokes. Police raid at DD, I type and then hit send. She’ll know what to do in case Lester decides to pull the same stunt at Python.
The moment I see an opening, I run up the stairs that lead to Destiny’s office. Police are handcuffing everyone in sight, so I’m taking a huge risk just by being here… But fuck, I need to know if she’s safe.
I step inside her office, but the place is completely empty. I call her name just in case she’s hiding, but my only reply is silence.
Fuck, what do I do now?
Don’t worry, I’m not asking you.
No matter what the situation, I’m still fucking cool as a fucking cuke. I’ve been to this rodeo before. Not completely worried just yet.
I step out of the office and, noticing a door open on the side, I start piecing things together. I enter, head down a hallway and find myself at the top of a fire escape; on the way here every single door was open, so Destiny must have come through here with the police on her heels.
Running down the fire escape, I call my driver and tell him to pick me up on the back.
You know, you gotta appreciate his fucking response when I tell him to meet me outside the club.
“Already here, boss, turned the car around the moment I saw the police,” he tells me and it totally fucking justifies my hiring policy—only the best, only the most trustworthy.
When my shoes hit the concrete, the headlights of my limo flash once. The driver is just turning the corner, the large limo struggling to get through the tight alley.