Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Boris got to my side. “Remember. Maxwell does not want her dead.”
Giorgio walked on my other side. “And the Lion and Mouse want to use her as a hostage.”
Thinking about Eve and Suzanne, I gritted my teeth. “And I just want to put one bullet in her arm or leg.”
Chapter 46
The Clown
Blue
We stood in front of the kitchen’s double doors.
Boris cocked his gun’s hammer back and took a deep breath. His brows knitted together in concentration. “We should hurry.”
I readied my guns, pointed them forward, and held them with firm grips. “I will lead.”
Giorgio frowned. “You will not.”
“Why not?”
“You must be careful, Blue.” Giorgio stood at the edge of the kitchen doors with his guns at his side. “We still have a passionate love affair to embark on.”
Boris snickered and slowly opened the doors.
“Perhaps, we should focus on staying alive.” I tried to go through the doors and followed Boris inside.
Giorgio jumped ahead of me. “Excuse me.”
I widened my eyes. “Get out of the way.”
“Gentlemen are supposed to die first.” He walked off.
“No one will die.” I was two steps behind him, my guns leading the way into the kitchen.
Giorgio pulled a beretta out.
“Be careful, Butler.” I breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. My heart beat fast but my grips on the guns were smooth and relaxed.
We went deeper into the kitchen. The hardwood floor creaked under our feet, singing out with a deep, resounding ring that filled my ears and did not fade for a long moment.
Further in, Giorgio curled his lips in revulsion. “Look at this mess.”
The kitchen had been trashed.
Ufuoma had clearly fought against Maxwell.
Shards of dishes probably broken in a fight littered the floor. Tons of knives lay on the ground.
“This is a disgrace.” Giorgio rubbed his shoulder with the barrel of his gun as if suddenly getting itchy. “Just walking through here makes me want to shower.”
“Do you think we can focus on the part where we get Ufuoma and keep Maxwell alive?” I stepped over several of the sharp blades.
“But this mess—”
I hissed. “Ignore the mess.”
“No sign of them here.” Boris accidentally kicked over a pot of white sauce. It pooled on the floor around his feet.
I jumped away from it and checked further ahead of us. “Shit. There is blood over there.”
Boris frowned. “Are you sure it is not food?”
“Definitely blood.” I hurried over.
Giorgio went over to the stove and turned it off. “Too dangerous to keep on. I mean seriously. . .one of them could have turned it off. Just a simple action.”
I rolled my eyes. “Would you get over here?”
Blood drops dotted the floor in front of me. I crouched down by them and realized that they led to a path further away from us.
Boris arrived, leaving white sauce footprints behind him. He stepped to my side. “You are right, Blue. This is blood.”
I stood. “It better not be Maxwell’s blood.”
“I am sure the blood is his.” Giorgio stepped to my other side. “If it was hers, he would have her in his arms right now.”
Boris and I glared at him.
Giorgio shrugged. “I am just stating the obvious.”
“It better not be Maxwell’s blood.” I gritted my teeth and followed the trail of blood drops.
We hit the end of the kitchen and walked down a wide, long hallway, lit only by one dim bulb. Up ahead, a door violently swung back and forth.
Giorgio kept my pace. “You must understand that Ufuoma is well-versed in Dambe.”
I quirked my brows. “What is Dambe?”
“It is an African combat sport which originated in Nigeria,” Giorgio said. “It is thought to date back several centuries.”
Boris asked, “Like boxing?”
“More primal. It is not a game. This is a lifestyle.” Giorgio got in front of me, guiding us down the long hallway. “Dambe fighters remain in camps where they train and live with one another. Popobawa was one of the best in the sport. My understanding is that he taught his sister, Ufuoma how to fight.”
“Well,” I shrugged. “He is dead, and she will be too.”
With his gun, Giorgio gestured to his hand. “She will not be that easy to kill. In Dambe, their hand is their spear. I witnessed her gouging out a man’s eyes in seconds, for a late shipment. It was so fast, I almost choked on my own spit.”
“Then, I will not let her get close to my face—”
“Or your body.” Giorgio frowned. “Blue, keep several feet between you and her—”
“I am not afraid of her.”
“Yes, but you must not forget about our passionate romance.” Giorgio stopped in front of the swinging door. “I would rather you have both eyes when I make love to you.”
Boris snorted.
“No one is taking out my eye.” I shoved past them and pushed the door open.
We were now in the back of the restaurant.
Even more shocking, a man stood on the other side, pointing a shotgun at us. A long black coat lay next to his feet. He had on a white buttoned shirt with black suspenders.