Read Online 01 Summoned-Summoned by Rainy Kaye - Free Book Online
Authors: Rainy Kaye
Tags: Paranormal
Ads: Link
of the front door, and then his talking fades out.
That's my cue.
Dining and dashing is a dick move. I wouldn't do it in a normal situation.
This does not count as a normal situation.
I dined, and now I dash. Through the dining area, out the double front doors, and across the parking lot. I skid to a halt at my Yaris, unlock the door, and peel out.
The silver Lexus is on the move.
And I have had more than enough of this stupid game of Duck, Duck, Dead.
Half of the stupidity is my fault, though. I had a plan—and this was it. Follow him until the opportunity to pull the trigger arises.
I never said I was good at killing people. I just have to keep the damn hum from evolving. Once that happens, life becomes unpleasant.
The Lexus, a few cars lengths ahead, swerves a little. For all his brilliance, Doctor Phillip Ballantyne is a jerk waffle. He won't be a problem for much longer. I hope.
I trail him no more than five minutes. Then he pulls into a hotel parking lot. Decent place. I should be staying here. Bet the showers have better water pressure.
I brake in the parking lot entrance and slouch down until I can just see over the dash. Phil gets out of his car, fumbles with his briefcase and the door lock, then stumbles toward the hotel. I swing my car around the other direction without headlights, park, and get out.
He enters through a glass back door. I dart up the steps, a few yards behind him. He's too drunk to notice me. Just as I reach the door, it falls shut. I yank the handle, but it won't budge.
Shit.
Something jingles behind me. I turn as a woman comes up the walk.
“Hey, I left my key in my room.” I wave her over. “Can you swipe this for me?”
“Sure, of course,” she says.
People are just too helpful sometimes.
She opens her purse, peers inside, shifts around the contents, pulls out her hotel key card, flips it over, and—two seconds before I snatch it from her—finally swipes it across the reader.
The door clicks unlocked.
I burst through, into the bright hallway, and take off, jacket thudding against the back of my legs. The hum bounces in my brain. I round the corner, muscles tensed for a fight, and stop short.
No one is there. At all.
I've lost Phil.
My heart pounds in my chest. The gun and silencer are heavy in my coat. And this persistent little hum is going to be a raging bitch in the morning.
I smack my palm against my head and mutter, “I'm trying, I'm trying, god dammit.”
Not like it helps. Never has. The hum knows my intentions. It knows I'm hunting Phil. But the hum gets pushy after a while. Grows a little louder, pulses a little deeper.
Then it gets wicked.
Murmuring catches my attention. I listen around the hum. One of the voices sounds familiar.
Phil is talking with someone.
I try to soften my footsteps as I hurry toward the next turn. I peer down the corridor. Phil is standing with another old man outside a room. The other guy is wearing dark pajama pants and nothing to cover his gut. They chat away like they're at a barbeque.
Looks like Phil knows everyone in this damn city. Their conversations carries, but I can't make out their words. Mainly because I don't care. I need Phil to say goodnight so I can put him to rest.
I crouch down and dare another peek. The two men shake hands. Phil trips over himself to another door, then fumbles with his key card until the lock opens. The door thuds closed behind him.
I check my phone, trying to ignore the fact I still don't have any new messages from Syd, and start the countdown. Five minutes. That will give Phil enough time to take off his shoes, have a piss, generally get comfortable. Relaxed. Unsuspecting.
My leg goes numb, so I stand up and shake it out. A few more minutes. I'm so close to fulfilling this wish. Then the madness in my head will be silent again, and I can go home.
I miss my bed. My house. Even my Accord, though the Yaris is kind of cool for the short term.
Tick, tock. After
That's my cue.
Dining and dashing is a dick move. I wouldn't do it in a normal situation.
This does not count as a normal situation.
I dined, and now I dash. Through the dining area, out the double front doors, and across the parking lot. I skid to a halt at my Yaris, unlock the door, and peel out.
The silver Lexus is on the move.
And I have had more than enough of this stupid game of Duck, Duck, Dead.
Half of the stupidity is my fault, though. I had a plan—and this was it. Follow him until the opportunity to pull the trigger arises.
I never said I was good at killing people. I just have to keep the damn hum from evolving. Once that happens, life becomes unpleasant.
The Lexus, a few cars lengths ahead, swerves a little. For all his brilliance, Doctor Phillip Ballantyne is a jerk waffle. He won't be a problem for much longer. I hope.
I trail him no more than five minutes. Then he pulls into a hotel parking lot. Decent place. I should be staying here. Bet the showers have better water pressure.
I brake in the parking lot entrance and slouch down until I can just see over the dash. Phil gets out of his car, fumbles with his briefcase and the door lock, then stumbles toward the hotel. I swing my car around the other direction without headlights, park, and get out.
He enters through a glass back door. I dart up the steps, a few yards behind him. He's too drunk to notice me. Just as I reach the door, it falls shut. I yank the handle, but it won't budge.
Shit.
Something jingles behind me. I turn as a woman comes up the walk.
“Hey, I left my key in my room.” I wave her over. “Can you swipe this for me?”
“Sure, of course,” she says.
People are just too helpful sometimes.
She opens her purse, peers inside, shifts around the contents, pulls out her hotel key card, flips it over, and—two seconds before I snatch it from her—finally swipes it across the reader.
The door clicks unlocked.
I burst through, into the bright hallway, and take off, jacket thudding against the back of my legs. The hum bounces in my brain. I round the corner, muscles tensed for a fight, and stop short.
No one is there. At all.
I've lost Phil.
My heart pounds in my chest. The gun and silencer are heavy in my coat. And this persistent little hum is going to be a raging bitch in the morning.
I smack my palm against my head and mutter, “I'm trying, I'm trying, god dammit.”
Not like it helps. Never has. The hum knows my intentions. It knows I'm hunting Phil. But the hum gets pushy after a while. Grows a little louder, pulses a little deeper.
Then it gets wicked.
Murmuring catches my attention. I listen around the hum. One of the voices sounds familiar.
Phil is talking with someone.
I try to soften my footsteps as I hurry toward the next turn. I peer down the corridor. Phil is standing with another old man outside a room. The other guy is wearing dark pajama pants and nothing to cover his gut. They chat away like they're at a barbeque.
Looks like Phil knows everyone in this damn city. Their conversations carries, but I can't make out their words. Mainly because I don't care. I need Phil to say goodnight so I can put him to rest.
I crouch down and dare another peek. The two men shake hands. Phil trips over himself to another door, then fumbles with his key card until the lock opens. The door thuds closed behind him.
I check my phone, trying to ignore the fact I still don't have any new messages from Syd, and start the countdown. Five minutes. That will give Phil enough time to take off his shoes, have a piss, generally get comfortable. Relaxed. Unsuspecting.
My leg goes numb, so I stand up and shake it out. A few more minutes. I'm so close to fulfilling this wish. Then the madness in my head will be silent again, and I can go home.
I miss my bed. My house. Even my Accord, though the Yaris is kind of cool for the short term.
Tick, tock. After
Similar Books
