THE THOUSAND DOLLAR CONTRACT: Colt Ryder Is Back In His Most Explosive Adventure Yet! by J.T. Brannan

Author:J.T. Brannan [Brannan, J.T.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Grey Arrow Publishing
Published: 2016-07-04T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

There was another shower room off the foyer, and I decided to use it; I was covered in other people’s blood and who knew what else, and – with my open wounds from the bite and the knife – the risk of infection was uncomfortably high.

I figured it was unlikely anyone else would show up in the five minutes it took me; after all, there had been no comings and goings throughout the duration of this ordeal. And if anyone did turn up, there were plenty of windows to jump out of. Still, I kept one of the Škorpions within arm’s reach at all times.

When I’d scrubbed myself clean, I put my pants on – punch-dagger retrieved from the body, wiped off and put back in the belt buckle – along with my socks and boots, and went in search of a first aid kit.

I found it in the reception area, through a double door from the lounge, and I immediately started to clean out the wounds with the strongest stuff I could find. The knife wounds to my gut and leg were fairly easy from a logistical perspective, but the bite to the back of my shoulder was much harder to reach. Still, I did what I could and then stitched up my stomach wound and bandaged my shoulder and leg.

I returned to the lounge and put my shirt back on, slipping the handguns used by Pavel and his comrade into my belt and letting the shirt hang over them.

Then I started to look around, careful not to step in any of the rapidly congealing pools of blood that spilled across the floor.

Everyone might be dead, but that didn’t mean there weren’t clues to be found. Who knew, maybe I’d find the ubiquitous book of matches that you could only get from a certain nightclub, the clue that would lead me directly to Konstantin Kozlov? Hell, maybe it would even have a private cell number handwritten inside, just to top things off?

Unfortunately, all I could find were cleaning products, massage oils, and a truckload of old magazines for clients to read while they were waiting. There were a few loose sheets of paper too, near where the guards had been originally, along with a DVD case for something that looked like Russian porn. There was Cyrillic script scrawled all over the paper, and I couldn’t make head or tails of it. Still, I pocketed the papers anyway; maybe I would bump into someone who could translate them for me.

I guess I wasn’t much of a detective; that was why I liked questioning people directly instead, it didn’t require as much imagination.

There was something that bothered me though, and I sat down in one of the easy chairs as I mulled it over.

Wow, sitting down felt so good, I thought I might fall asleep if I stayed there for long, and so I got back up, stretching out my painful, battered body.

And then I saw the DVD again, and realized that it was the case that was bothering me.

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