Jameson Hotel - the Dark Suite Series: Parts One, Two & Three (2 page)

EVENING ARRIVALS

I
can’t believe
Julia’s still here after I forced her up against the wall. It can’t be because
she loves this job. I’d say she either can’t afford to quit or she might, even
after a shitty afternoon, have feelings for me.

She looks radiant in her Jameson Hotel sport
jacket under the shimmering lights. When the guests move away from the desk,
she checks her cleavage then adjusts her tits while I grin and mimic her
actions with my dick.

I haven’t apologized yet. I’ve been in my
windowless office; a room off my private suite, viewing security cams,
thinking, waiting, and watching for the big man to arrive.
Dayne
Rosen.

I know him well. He and his twin,
Doron
, were my dad’s bodyguards for years. After my father
was killed, the two of them found themselves serving a decade in prison, for a
good many reasons.

That fucker. He’s here.

He approaches Julia and shakes her hand. Her
warm smile and his eyes falling to her tits slice my gut open. She waves in the
direction of the lobby seating area that’s in front of the stone fireplace and
he settles in.

The piece of shit looks like an ox wearing a
cheap suit.

He studies the room, the staff, the front
desk, my doormen, and then detects the cameras. One... two... three... and
number four... he looks directly at me and winks.

What a bastard. This is exactly what he’s
trained to do, and I hate it that he’s so fucking good.

I place my gun in the back of my pants and
take a deep breath before walking downstairs. I’m not a fool.
Dayne’s
here because he wants me dead or because he’s
looking to take down my sister and her husband. This is about revenge, not a
job, and as far as I’m concerned, I’m tired of the
Jamesons
and
Rosens
acting like the
Hatfields
and the
McCoys
. My father’s dead, his father’s dead,
and even though they both deserved what they got, it’s time for the rest of us
to move on.

Yeah, right. All I can think about on the way
down is killing the dumb fuck.

The business office behind the front desk has
a back door that I use so I don’t have to walk through the lobby. I’m not going
to be caught off guard by this guy.

I call the front desk so I can get this over
with as quickly as possible. “Julia, tell Mr. Rosen I’m ready for him. Use
those exact words.”

“Not a problem.”

She hangs up and a minute later his figure
fills the office doorway.

“Mark.” He nods, not in the least bit
surprised when I remove the gun from behind my back and point it at his head. I
motion with it for him to take a seat, which he does after closing the door.

“Tell me why the fuck you’re in my hotel.
Make it quick.”

His laughter pisses me off so I send the
slide of the gun forward to put an end to that shit.

“Alright.” He raises his hands. “Chill the
fuck out, man. You need a new security guy, right?”

“Not a Rosen.”

“We’re the finest around...
I’m
the finest around and you know it.”

“I’m not looking for a
Rosen
,” I repeat. “And I don’t need a bodyguard, which is what you
really are. The job’s to watch over the grounds, inside and out, and to give my
guests a feeling of security, nothing more. You’d be better off in Vegas.”

He lowers his hands and leans back in the
chair with a straight face. I notice how dirty he looks, which is unusual for
him. His short graying hair is greasy and the stubble on his face is nicked off
in places like he used a dull razor. And the scent he brought into this office,
Jesus, it’s a combination of sweat and steamed broccoli. In other words, the
man’s a walking sewer.

“I got out of prison last month,” he says in
a deep voice. “Things haven’t been easy. People in Vegas, the ones that matter,
those guys won’t hire me. They know I worked for Paul.”

“Yeah, well Paul is dead. So you didn’t do a
very good job protecting him, now did you? Why would I hire a guy who couldn’t
keep my father safe?”

“Listen, douchebag...”

I stand with the gun still pointed at his
head. “No, you listen. I know my father deserved a bullet in his head, but it’s
high time someone put one in yours. When the detectives came in to investigate
his death and found the footage that showed what you did to people, including
my sister, I didn’t feel one bit sorry that you got arrested and I sure as fuck
don’t feel sorry for your whiny ass now! You drugged my sister and tattooed her
flesh with my father’s porn company name. What a piece of shit you are. You
probably would’ve killed my dad too, but someone beat you to it.”

“Fuck that, everyone wanted him dead, Mark.
He was a brute with no regrets for mistreating his porn stars, including the
young teenagers he fucked. He only cared about himself. I was loyal to the sick
bastard until the day he died,” his face remains expressionless while his mouth
spews hatred. “You’re right, I wanted him dead and I could’ve killed him, but I
didn’t.”

I laugh at his pokerfaced confession. “Those
words aren’t going to get you this job.”

“Mark, you know everything about me. I need
this.” He takes a deep breath. “My brother got out of prison before I did and
he went back to his wife, and my sister won’t give me the time of day. Neither
will speak to me. I’ve been run out of Vegas... fuck, just give me a chance.
Your dad would’ve taken me back.”

“Don’t play those games.” I shake my head and
sit. “He wasn’t stable in the end and he would’ve hired a fucking flamingo if
it walked through the door.”

Dayne
scratches his head and looks around the
room; eyeing the camera I have above the desk and then checking the time on a
non-existent watch. Must be a habit for him to look at his bare wrist.

“No one will hire an aging a-hole who just
got out of prison,” he says with a direct stare into my eyes. “I’m sorry about
your sister. Is she doing okay these days?”

“Haven’t a clue. I think we’re finished here,
Dayne
.”

“
She still living in St.
Louis with her douchebag husband?”

I stand and point to the door, but he doesn’t
move. His nostrils flare and I sense the real
Dayne
Rosen emerging, the animal I remember from when I was just a
twenty-something-year-old kid. The guy who would use me as a punching bag and
then call me a pussy if I ever complained to my father.

He lounges forward and grips my hand as the
tip of my gun presses into his chest.

“You can be dead in two seconds,” I whisper.

“You too,
dickface
.
I can turn this gun around in no time.”

“Why are you really here,
Dayne
?”

“I want to know what happened to
my
father, you little prick.”

I knew this was coming.

“A suicide, right? That’s what I was told
when I was in the big house. Bull-fucking-shit!” He raises his voice and spit
flies from his mouth.

“Mr. Jameson?” Julia knocks on the door. “I’m
sorry to interrupt, but I have an emergency.”

“Nice.”
Dayne
smirks. “You’ve got that little pussy trained well. Does she also wipe your ass
for you after you take a shit?”

“Get out,” I fume. “Get the
fuck
out of here.”

He steps back and releases my hand, but
leaves me with the eeriest grin.

“Call your baby sister and tell her I’m
coming for her and her family. That tattoo I inked on her shoulder cost ten
years of my life, and I’m
gonna
cut it off and keep her flesh in my pocket until the day I die. And if her
husband had anything to do with my father’s death, his balls are coming off and
getting shoved in his mouth.”

“Mr. Jameson?” This time Julia opens the door
and pokes her head inside. “I need help, please.” She enters the room as
Dayne
steps out.

“Motherfucker,” I say under my breath, still
holding my gun. She knows I carry it whenever I leave my suite, but she’s never
seen it out and ready for use.

“You okay? The new arrivals kept looking back
this way when they heard the arguing and cursing. It’s not like you to act like
this in public.”

“Shit,” I exhale, rubbing my chin with my
gun.

“Mark, don’t point that thing at your face.
Is it loaded?”

“Don’t boss me around, alright? Now what’s
your emergency?”

She looks at me like I’m crazy and goes back
to work without saying a word.

“Julia,” I call out, with no response. No
woman’s ever put me in my place like she has. “Jules, come back, I need to talk
to you.”

She leans against the doorframe with a hand
on her hip and says, “Thanks for calling me Jules. It’s about time.”

“I told you it’s whatever feels right at the
moment. Did he leave?”

“Yeah, he walked right out.”

“You said you met him. Where? Was he here?”

“No, at Kick’s
Bar
,
downtown.”

“What the fuck were you...” I stop before I
come across as being jealous, but by her satisfied expression I can tell she
got the picture. “Stay away from him. He’s dangerous.”

“Is that an order, Mr. Jameson?” Her hand
stays on her hip like she rules the room.

“Close the door,” I whisper.

She steps inside and closes the solid oak
door then places two hands on my desk and leans forward. Her tits fall out of
her jacket in a hanging tease.

“I apologize for being a dick earlier,” I say
softly, forcing myself to look away from her chest and into her eyes. “I just
don’t want anything to happen to the people I care about. You understand?”

She gives me a quick nod.

“I’m frustrated that he’s in town,” I
continue, “but that’s not an excuse to take it out on you.”

“You’re passive aggressive,” she whispers
back. “Or maybe even bipolar or worse.”

I shake my head. “No, don’t say that shit
about me.”

“Someone should. You can be sugary sweet one
second and then bite my head off the next. It’s kind of scary, you know?”

“Then why the fuck are you here? Why did you
come in early today to see me if you feel this way?”

“
Shh
.” She places a
finger over my mouth and I look back to her bouncy tits. “You know, Mark,
someone needs to help you.”

“And you think you’re the one?” I grin and
guide her to my chair. She straddles my waist as I reach under her jacket,
unable to get enough of her young tits.

Fuck, I’m hard again.

“
Chloe’s working
the
front with you tonight, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to fool around back
here when she’s ten feet away.”

I caress her cheek and bring her lips to
mine. Our tongues play and she sighs when I bite her bottom lip on the way out.
“You’re having dinner with me when your shift’s over. Let me apologize again,
the right way. Nine o’clock.”

Her honey colored eyes gleam from my
unexpected kiss, which are few and far between.

“And promise me you’ll never speak to
Dayne
Rosen again. Okay?”

She nods. “You think your other two interviews
will be the same as the last?”

“Doubt it. I plan on hiring them both.”

“Will you tell me more about
Dayne
tonight?”

“He’s not the best subject to bring up during
dinner, besides, I’d rather discuss getting you back in my bed.” I slap her ass
as she stands.

“I’ll send the next guy in when he arrives.”

“Give me about five minutes. I need to do
something first,” I say, pulling my dress shirt out of my pants to cover my
erection.

She looks down and smiles, thinking I need to
jerk off, which isn’t what I’m about to do.

“Save it for later,” she whispers on her way
out.

I leave the office quickly and take the
elevator to the second floor. My hotel has two sets of living quarters on
opposite ends. Both are two thousand square feet, two bedroom, two bath, and
two-story units. I have a thing for two’s, being born on February second,
owning two black Toyota
Tacomas
, two boats, and two
guns, having nephews who are twins, and a collection of twenty-two
switchblades. It’s all been good luck. All except my encounters with the Rosen
twins, the only
two’s
in this world
that appear to be vile, at least in my opinion.

The private suites are similar to living in a
penthouse in that they’re safe from assholes like
Dayne
.
They each have a steel door that’s equipped with an electronic keypad. One has
no other way in or out except through a sliding glass door off the master
bedroom, which leads to a large deck with a view of the mountains, but also
includes a forty-foot drop to the ground below. The door opens to a view of
paradise and nothing else. I made sure these two suites were private enough to
let a person live in seclusion, even during the height of tourist season.