Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Violet tiptoed around the bodies she'd left in Damien's office and wondered why no one had come to check on them. Probably hadn't heard the gunshot over the noise the storm was making. Which was good news for her.
She signaled for her stalker to head to the door at the far side of the room, where she'd seen Damien leave earlier. He took up position beside it, as she slowly reached out and cracked it open an inch. There was no one in the hallway outside the room.
She swung the door wide, and they silently entered the corridor.
Using a series of hand gestures, Violet communicated they were going left, and that she'd take point, seeing as she was the one with the gun.
Alan nodded and followed her. The big man was quiet as a mouse. She barely knew he was behind her.
Automatic weapon at the ready, Violet hugged the wall as she made her way down the short hallway.
They hit a T-junction with corridors to the left and right.
The left corridor was shorter of the two and ended in a small open area with a couple of doors.
The layout of the house didn't make any sense and she suspected the old colonial mansion had been through several remodels over the years.
There were no cameras in the corridor, so they silently moved toward the doors, listening at each to see if anyone was on the other side. The murmur of a radio sounded from the second door. Someone was inside. Damn, she hated this part, hated not knowing what she was about to walk into.
Alan quietly grasped the handle as Violet lifted a hand and silently counted them down using her fingers. On her mark, Alan threw the door wide and Violet launched herself inside.
They'd found the security room. A guard sat in front of a bank of monitors, eating a sandwich.
He jumped to his feet when they appeared and reached for his gun, but Alan was there first. He punched the guy hard on the jaw, disarmed him and had him tied to the chair with a length of cable before Violet could tell him otherwise.
She quietly closed the door behind them, turned off the radio, and aimed her gun at the guard.
"Don't even think about shouting for help," she warned. "I'll put a bullet in you if you so much as squeak without my permission."
The guard shook his head, obviously still dazed from Alan's blow.
"Take his weapon," she ordered Alan.
"I prefer my fists," he said, looming over his prey.
"We're in enemy territory and everyone is armed. Take the gun."
“No,” was all he said.
It was clear this wasn’t an order he was willing to follow.
Violet gave up and studied the monitors.
Several were filled with gray static, a few showed palm trees blowing wildly in the wind, and others held views of the exterior of the mansion house.
There were no interior shots of the house and no sign of Damien.
Obviously, he liked privacy inside his home.
"Where's Poole?" she asked the guard.
He smirked. "The boss pays us to protect him, not to sell him out to little girls who're playing at soldier."
Alan punched him again. This time in the stomach. The man grunted and gasped for air. While he recovered, Violet searched the room for anything that would help them locate Damien.
There was a noticeboard with schedules and notes, a counter with a sink and coffee maker, and a tall metal cupboard housing weapons.
She helped herself to a couple of flash-bangs, a smoke grenade, and some extra ammunition for her automatic weapon, putting all of it in the pockets of her cargo pants.
The pants were so much more useful than a dress.
She was about to turn back to the guard when she noticed a map, buried under a roster on the board. She unpinned it and smiled. It showed the layout of the house and was marked with the different security routes covered each shift.
Handy.
She held it in front of the guard. "I know Damien is meeting in the sitting room. Where is it on the map?"
"Never gonna tell you, bitch." He smirked, oozing defiance. "Might as well give up."
Alan tensed, ready to hit him again, but Violet shook her head. There was a mug filled with pens and pencils on the desk under the monitors. She upended it, spilling the contents. She carefully chose a sharp blue pencil.
"This will do," she said before ramming it into the guard's thigh.
Alan clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle the scream. When the guard had calmed down, he released him.
"You crazy bitch," the guard spat. "I can't believe you did that." He stared at the pencil sticking out of his leg as blood ran down his jeans to the floor beneath him.
Violet snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. "Where is Damien?" she asked again.
"Fuck off," he snapped, his cheeks ruddy and sweat beading on his brow.
Violet reached for the small manual sharpener and picked up the red pencil. "I count ten more pencils. I’ll use them all if you don't tell me where your boss is." She sharpened the pencil, under the careful watch of the guard who couldn't tear his eyes from her.
"I ain’t telling you nothing," he ground out.
Violet didn't bother replying, she just rammed the red pencil into his other thigh.
Again, Alan covered his mouth until he quietened. When he stepped back, the guard was breathing heavily, his face etched with pain.
"Where is Damien?" Violet asked again.
"You're a fucking lunatic. You think you scare me? This is just bullshit. You're wasting your time."
Violet lifted a green pencil. This one was a bit blunt too. "If you don't tell me where your boss is, I'll have to turn you into my human Voodoo doll," she told the guard as she sharpened the pencil. "I'm going to stick pins in you and hope Damien can feel the pain. Do you think he will?"
The guard made a growling sound and struggled against his restraints. "You're dead," he threatened. "The two of you are dead. My team is gonna put a bullet in your brain."
"I'm curious," Violet said. "Is Damien paying you enough to endure this?"
"Get the fuck away from me," the man shouted, somewhat hysterically.
"I wonder how many times I can stick you before I hit an artery," Violet mused. "Do you think it will happen before I run out of pencils?"
"You can always use the pens," Alan said helpfully. "You just need to apply a bit more force."
"Good point." Violet raised her hand to strike. "What do you think? Hand this time?"
"No," the guard shouted. "I'll tell you how to get to him."
She lowered the pencil. "I'm listening," she said.
He gestured to the map with a tense jerk of his head. "Top of the map, room in the middle. The big one facing the beach. That's the sitting room. That's where the boss is having his meeting."
She twirled the pencil between her fingers. "How many guards between here and Damien?"
He watched her movements and gritted his teeth before answering. "Boss has eight in the house, the rest are positioned around the estate."
"And the person he's meeting, how many does he have with him?"
"He usually brings six and leaves one with the boat." His face was lined and tight from the pain.
Twelve against two, if you didn't count the men outside the building. Wait, she'd already killed a couple of guards, so it was ten against two. Much better.
"Anything else I should know?" Violet asked.
His eyes were filled with hatred. "Only that you're gonna die tonight, bitch."
Violet sighed before waving a hand at Alan. "Put him to sleep," she ordered.
He promptly caught the guard in a chokehold, cutting off his oxygen until he passed out.
"Let's go," she said once he was done.
Alan followed her back out into the hallway. She appreciated that he didn't ask her to explain what they were doing. Instead, he just followed orders. Strange as it seemed, he was one of the best partners she'd had in a long time.
Violet's plan was simple. She intended on sneaking up to the sitting room, cracking the door, videoing Damien and his mysterious partner, and then getting the hell out of the mansion.
Every minute she was stuck inside was a minute Max was alone in the storm.
And she had a very bad feeling about Max being out there alone, he had a tendency to attract trouble.
Yeah, the sooner she got back to him, the better.