Kill List (Special Ops #8)

by Capri Montgomery

  He was her kind of man, but he didn’t look at her twice by way of appreciating her smaller body, her nicely adorned figure that wasn’t slutty in any way imaginable. She was a classy dresser if she did say so herself. But even though she liked the nearly six-one hunk of a man he seemed to go for the blond haired blue eyed look.

  She shrugged. Perhaps she would stay single forever. Single would be one less person to have to put into the grave one day, one less person to have to say goodbye to.

  She cleaned up the bathroom and then looked into the closet, which was already perfectly kept with very few items of clothing in the way. The safe was there and she noticed, once again, how this room was a little different than the others. It was almost like the person working on putting this room together had installed it wrong and tossed up his or her hands in that so not ripping this sucker out now kind of thing. She couldn’t say for sure on the why, but she definitely could see the difference in the rooms. In this room there was a small space between the safe and the wall whereas the other rooms had the safe right up against the wall. She wondered why they deviated, but she didn’t have time to think about that. She had work to do. There were still other rooms to be cleaned. Getting reprimanded for not finishing all rooms on time would not be a perfect ending to an already gross encounters filled day.

  She had to find another job, another path to follow, because there was no way she could spend the rest of her life triple gloving to pull used condoms off the wall, off the dresser, off the floor and out of bed sheets. There had even been one in the pillow case. No, this couldn’t be the next twenty, thirty, or at the rate of her current paycheck, forty years of her life. There had to be something better, something that could at least make her feel like she had a purpose and was making her parents proud. Her father wanted her to go back to school and while that wasn’t an option now that didn’t mean she couldn’t try to find work in another state.

  She thought about her last job search and the not so nice reply that she was an under skilled sanitary worker. She was not a sanitary worker. She was the best maid this side of Texas. She laughed to herself. No, she wasn’t the best maid, but she wasn’t the worst either. Maybe if she had bigger breasts she could stop trying to use her brain and just show a little more cleavage, using her feminine wiles to get her way just like Amber had the corner on doing here. “Maybe I should ask her to use her finer assets and skills to get me transferred to a desk job,” she mumbled to herself before shaking her head and declining the not so sane portion of her brain’s idea for moving out of maid central. She was tired, but at least she had a job. There were a lot of people who didn’t have one at all.

  She pushed aside her thoughts and put her mind on doing the best job she could. Amber had gotten her this position and she wouldn’t let her down. It’s not like middle aged frat boy mentality men were a staple at this luxury hotel. It’s not like she had to clean up condoms from the rooms on their cleaning section list. No, it could be worse. At least condoms weren’t drug needles. At least triple gloving provided protection whereas a glove or two, or even three, would not protect against a prick of a needle.

  She took her kit back out to stack it on top of the cart. “I’m going to need the vacuum when you’re done.” She swiped her hand over her forehead, knocking a fallen strand of hair back in place.

  “You know, I’ll get that. You’ve worked your butt off and this room has been so easy for me thus far.”

  “Lucky you,” she sighed.

  “I’m just lucky that way. Next room I’ll be sure to take the worst area and leave you with just crumpled sheets and vacuuming.”

  “Uh huh,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “I left my Bosha Brush in the bathroom. I can’t clean the cracks without that,” she shook her head. “Are you almost done?”

  “Yeah, I just have to get this case back where it was. I had to move it to vacuum properly.” She lifted the case and her hand must have hit the wrong button because the case popped open and folders and papers fell out.

  “You want help putting that back?”

  “Nah. I got it. You go get that brush before you forget it and then boss man will holler at both of us.”

  “No, he’ll holler at me. The man wants you bad, Amber, and you know it.”

  She giggled. “And I use it too. I’m getting us the Loving Day event off in June. I’m definitely going to find you a man.”

  She laughed. “Focus on yourself.”

  “I have two fighting over me and one about ready to give me the highest raise he can to get me. I don’t need a man. You do. You’re thirty-four now—”

  “Five,” she corrected her. “I just turned thirty-five yesterday.”

  “Oh crap! I forgot your birthday.”

  She shrugged. “No big deal. I have to go get the brush and you need to clean that up.” She pointed to the mass of papers. She couldn’t make it out, but she thought she saw a picture or two, or more, inside the disheveled pile on the floor. She twisted her mouth to the side and narrowed her eyebrows inquisitively. Not that she should care. She was just the maid, but it was intriguing and if she were nosey she just might have a look. But she wasn’t nosey and it wasn’t right to rifle through his stuff. Besides, with pictures and paper maybe the guy was a reporter or something—but did reporters end up in posh rooms like this?—the ones that cost over a grand a night? No, no way was he a reporter. She contemplated the possible other professions, but hadn’t completely kicked reporter out. For all she knew he could have been working for one of those sleazy tabloid magazines and could have been given the top level hotel fare to get close to a story on somebody highly financially, politically, or celebrity important.

  Her mind was still exploring ideas about the man whose room they had just cleaned. Judging from the suits in the closet he appeared to be well kept and fashionable, but judging from the mess in the bedroom and in the bathroom she was having a hard time thinking of him as a clean individual. No, she figured he kept those suits so perfect so he could blend in wherever he went without looking out of place.

  She had gone back to get the brush and was nearly clearing the rounded corner when she saw Amber looking through the pictures. She was going to open her mouth and chastise her for not already having everything in the case, in a playful way that they could laugh about, until she saw the man with the gun pointed at the back of her head. It was as if in less than a breath she saw Amber fall to the floor. She hadn’t heard a shot, but she was not so naive that she didn’t know that man had just shot Amber in the back of the head. His gun had a silencer and she knew that; it was the only way the sound could be muffled.

  There was red starting to pool on the floor but her eyes couldn’t focus. Her mind couldn’t string things together fast enough to answer the questions whirling in her mind. But when it came to fight or flight her brain was functional enough to know she had to choose flight. She had to hide. In her mind there wasn’t a shadow of a doubt that the man would kill her too if he found her.

  She hastily, yet quietly went back into the bathroom and then into the closet. She quietly closed the oak wood door behind her and then found a spot between the high safe and the wall. She sunk down thanking the heavens that she was short enough, and small enough, to fit and still be covered. There was no way she could get out of there right now. Trying to go the front way would run her into the killer, and going out the back exit might do the same since the hall she would exit in was definitely visible from the area where Amber had been working.

  Tears stung her eyes as her breath seized in her chest. She was so afraid and trying desperately not to make a sound. If he didn’t know she was there maybe he wouldn’t look for her. But maybe he did know she was there. Maybe he knew they were two to a room cleanup in this hotel. No maid worked alone and it wasn’t because of safety issues, it was because of time issues. The deadline for cleaning all the rooms was insane, but that didn’t stop the higher ups from demanding it. God help the poor team that missed the mark b
ecause firing an employee for no real good reason wasn’t beneath the movers and shakers in this high class luxury hotel power circle.

  She heard his footsteps on the gray stone floor of the bathroom. If only the rooms outside of the bathroom hadn’t been carpeted Amber would have heard him coming up behind her and she could have—what?—run? Yes, maybe she could have run or sprayed him with a bottle of cleaner. No, the cleaner wouldn’t really work. Everything was organic and plant based. Yuri, one of the other maids, had gotten a little in her eye and she said it hadn’t burned at all. She just rinsed it with water and saw the nurse after she finished her cleaning duties. Nurse Becket gave her a prescription for eye drops and Yuri had been fine. Seeing as though they didn’t walk around with defense weapons, and the cleaning solutions weren’t an option, Olivia realized that there wasn’t any possible way to survive this. If only that stupid case hadn’t fallen open. If only Amber had just put the folders and papers back faster. If only the last room hadn’t taken longer than usual they could have been out of there before that monster got back.

  The door to the closet opened. She could see the light trickling in and she hoped that the light wasn’t somehow casting a shadow that would show she was in there. When the door closed she felt a hint of some relief that he didn’t know she was hiding there like a turtle drawing its head into its shell to avoid danger. Her actions were just as useless as the turtles because just like somebody could bash the turtle’s shell, break it and kill the creature, this man could still find her hiding and give her the same kind of end.

  She could hear numbers being dialed which told her he was still in the bathroom. He hadn’t left, and he didn’t seem to be in a hurry to leave either. She had assumed he would have cleared out of there fast so he could get away with murder, but he wasn’t running away. He, and she couldn’t believe her ears, was making a phone call. He felt that safe with a dead body in his room that he could find the time to make a phone call?!

  He hadn’t left which meant she couldn’t leave either. He would hear her leaving if she tried. He would see her crawling out to the main hallway so she could get to the room’s exit door. No, she had to wait. She had to stay hidden and pray—pray that he wouldn’t find her, and that he wouldn’t kill her too. Is this what her parents had felt?—this fear, this intense dread that life was going to end sooner than desired, sooner than necessary, sooner than it should have? She wondered if they knew the moment the train started to move and the trouble started to happen that they were going to die. Did they feel their heart racing while they prayed they could get to the next stop and get out alive?

  “Mauris nigra,” he said. Then there was brief silence other than his footsteps clanking against the stone floor. “I have a kill in room 1422,” another short pause. “A maid. She got too nosey,” he said.

  She had not gotten nosey. She was simply trying to put the paperwork back. But Olivia was not about to go out there and correct the killer who held the gun. Angry? Yes. Scared? Yes. Stupid? No. She was not stupidly going to walk out there and tell this murderer that Amber wasn’t nosey, that she wasn’t trying to pry into whatever business he had going on, that it was all an accident. She wouldn’t take a bullet for trying to assert the truth. She would just have to tell it to the cops. At some point she was going to get out of this room, call the cops and give a statement to help them put this guy in prison.

  “Yeah. Get a couple officers over here to clean it up, dump her body somewhere else, and make this go away like you’re paid to do. I’m pulling out. My work isn’t done and I can’t afford to have this cover blown. Get rid of it.”

  She heard the closing of what she would call a flip phone cover. The man had just called Amber an “it?” That dirty bastard! She wanted to hurt him but common sense prevailed. No way was she going out there. No way was she going to get herself killed. She was going to make sure Amber’s parents knew the truth. She was going to make sure they got justice. But how was she going to do that if the cops were dirty too? He had told whoever he was talking with to get a couple officers over to clean up the body, and those words alone told her the cops were not friend, they were foe.

  She waited, listening as the door closed and then waited for a hundred breaths longer. She had counted them. This was the only way she could think of to try to buy some time and not leave out the back closet exit and then ditch the room too early. She didn’t know if he was just waiting outside the door or not. A hundred breaths is all she gave herself before she made the voyage out of the closet from the back exit and then slowly, quietly, and very cautiously, got out of the suite. She was just getting around to the way for the back service elevators when she heard his unmistakable British accent again.

  “Yeah, I forgot something crucial. I’m going back in. No worries about the fifteen minutes out. I’m sure nobody else will be coming in before you get here.”

  The voice was getting closer and there was no way he wouldn’t see her. She looked around frantically and then quickly decided she would take a chance on dying going down the clothes shoot than knowing she would die if he saw her standing there. He would know she knew what he had done and she knew he wouldn’t let her live to tell about it.

  She opened the cover and went feet first. Head first would be bad for sure. The clanging of the cover behind her told her she had given away that something wasn’t right because he would have heard it, but she couldn’t exactly close the cover from the inside because of the way the shoot was setup. The cover either snapped back loudly, or the person on the outside used the lift handle to close it gently.

  She slid down while keeping her eyes squeezed tightly shut and her mouth closed tightly as her speed increased more and more. She prayed there would be a cart at the bottom that was full and not one that had just been emptied, or worse, she prayed the cart hadn’t just been moved.

  Down, down, constantly descending from the fourteenth floor to the sublevel basement and thankfully her prayers were answered with a full cart of dirty, stinky, sheets and comforters. The impact still hurt, but at least she was alive.

  She saw the house phone on the wall. She couldn’t let that man get away with moving Amber’s body. She picked up the phone, dialed 9-1-1 and waited for the prompt answer.

  “There’s been a murder at the Westin Lights—room 1422. Hurry. He’s killed her and they’re going to try to move her body.” She slammed the phone down and she ran. She knew a good way out the back area and then she would take the back roads. She stripped off the apron but she was still very much dressed like a maid. There was no way she could blend in like the rest of the highfalutin society crowd. She wouldn’t be able to hide amongst them because she would stand out like an elephant in a ballroom.

  Where could she go? She thought now that her mind was relatively clearer that she hadn’t disguised her voice when she called 9-1-1 so they would know the caller was a woman. They would also know that it was more than likely her given the fact that once they arrived and started questions that they would know Amber wasn’t alone and that she was the maid assigned to the room with her. What was she going to do now?

  She heard the sirens blaring and the screeching halt of the cars. At least the other cops had gotten here first. At least those guys were going to make sure Amber’s death didn’t get covered up as something it wasn’t—as if maybe she had just walked down the wrong street on her way home and some miscreant gang banger or robber had used his weapon on her. No, she wouldn’t let that lie go out. But at the same time she knew she couldn’t go home and not knowing which cops to trust she couldn’t exactly walk into a station either.

  “Chogan,” Olivia thought. He wasn’t in town, but she knew where his place was outside the city. She knew this because Amber had taken her by there one day. Amber didn’t have a car, Olivia did because of where she lived before moving back, but she barely drove. Amber was ten years her junior but they had struck up a positive friendship so they did the go out and see the sites thing together. Sometimes they
drove out of the main parts of the city. Sometimes they took a cab. Sometimes they just got around on foot.

  “He says I can move in there if I want,” Amber had said. “But, you know I prefer to stay with my parents. They’re awesome and my mom cooks the best.” Amber had laughed. She had given up a chance to stay at a nice house in a safer area so she could stay with her parents who refused to leave the home they had not even two blocks away from her father’s clothing store. He basically just sold the urban clothing that drew in the younger crowd, and the men who wished they were still younger—that crowd that clearly had forgotten why the belt had actually been invented and preferred to walk around with their pants near falling off. Amber said her father didn’t fear them, but that he liked the money they dropped on clothes that hadn’t cost him much at all since they had been made in India, China, and other places that didn’t cost much and he had the wholesale buying price and could sell everything for much more. They were making a stable life for themselves and they were happy, but they wanted more for her. They wanted her to quit the maid thing and get into something better. Now, she wished Amber had listened to them. Had she left for another job this wouldn’t have happened.

  Olivia hid out for as long as she could, waiting for the sun to sink into the sky before heading to the higher priced housing area. She didn’t want to go during the day, although she realized maybe she should have. Those people were probably all working just to be able to afford those houses which meant they were probably home now and would see her. But as she got to the area she also realized they were probably all still trying to get out of the city and with traffic that was probably beyond difficult.