Hunters, Matt Rogers [pdf ebook reader .txt] 📗

pocket. It might come out of their salaries if he was in an unaccommodating mood.

One of the guards up the back made an inquiring call, and seconds later they were frisked for weapons and ushered through into the mansion grounds.

Aside from a few decorative differences, the grounds were eerily similar to Torres’ place. Violetta got the sense that making their houses feel like homes was low on the list of priorities for men like Torres and Vásquez. They were clearly monumentally wealthy, and instead of fretting about details they seemed to have purchased the properties as they were. They were carbon copies of one another, and it spoke to the soullessness of big business.

It was more important to look like you were rich than to actually care about what you owned.

Now that their presence had been greenlit, the women were fast-tracked to Vásquez. They barely had time to take in the sweeping lawns before they were ushered up to the terrace and through the giant double doors, already open to accept them.

The lobby they stepped into was gargantuan, cathedral-esque in its enormity, and two curving staircases were like mirror images as they weaved up to a landing that overlooked the lobby.

César Vásquez stood on the landing, staring down like a king overlooking his subjects, his hands on the marble balustrade.

It was pathetic.

Violetta looked up at him and realised he resembled a mouse. He was a tiny man, five-four at best, and thin. He was old and it showed — his skin was dry and wrinkled like the surface of a prune. He wore a velvet smoking jacket that had been tailored to his emaciated frame but somehow still managed to look sloppy. She guessed you couldn’t tailor a jacket to a frame that didn’t exist. She wondered if he even had muscles, or if it was all just bone underneath his grotesque skin.

She wasn’t one to body-shame, but the man was repulsive as he descended the right-hand staircase slowly, taking each step with a certain dramatic flair. She couldn’t tell if he was trying to exacerbate his importance by making his guests wait with the overlong performance, or if he was simply too frail to take the stairs any faster.

When he reached the marble floor, he strode straight over to them, suddenly able-bodied, and Violetta realised it was the former.

She and Alexis were both a few inches taller than him barefoot, and the heels made it far worse. Still, for everything he lacked, he made up for in confidence. He didn’t seem to notice that the call girls he’d been gifted looked Amazonian compared to his tiny stature. He came right up to them, stared up at them with his beady eyes.

Violetta could tell he liked what he saw.

They were taller than him, younger, more beautiful. But he’d bought their time, so he could do what he pleased with them.

Money made life bearable.

He said, ‘Fabio says good things about the both of you. I hope you won’t disappoint.’

His English was flawless. Almost no accent.

Alexis purred, ‘“Good”? Oh, honey. Just you wait.’

He clearly didn’t want to do much waiting. He shooed his guards on the ground floor away and gestured for them to follow him up the staircase. He stayed two steps ahead of them the whole way, maybe to savour the fact that he was taller than them for a brief while.

They came out on the landing, where two more guards watched the lobby, fearsome carbine assault rifles hanging off shoulder straps. They didn’t even look at the newcomers, instead affixing their sweeping gazes on the lobby, just as they’d been instructed. Competent professionals through and through. Violetta wondered if she and Alexis would stand a chance even if they were armed, which they weren’t. They never would have got knives or guns past the front gate in these dresses.

Vásquez clearly spared no expense when it came to security.

He said, ‘Wait here,’ to the pair watching the lobby.

They nodded without turning around.

Vásquez ushered them into a seemingly endless hallway made to look like something out of ancient Egypt. There were rugs and ornate paintings of hieroglyphs and even a full-sized pharaoh’s tomb looming next to a decorative side table. Violetta honestly didn’t know whether it was a fake or not. Vásquez probably had enough money for it to be authentic. He did lord over an entire country’s infrastructure.

Violetta cleared her throat a dozen feet down the hallway, and Vásquez spun. The hallway lighting had a soft red hue to accentuate the Egyptian furnishings, and it brought out the crazed look in his eyes. They were wide and sunken into his leather face. He said, ‘Yes?’

‘Them guards out there,’ she drawled, keeping her voice low so they couldn’t hear. ‘They shouldn’t be too … jumpy.’

‘Oh?’

Alexis stepped in close to him and breathed into his ear. ‘We’re givin’ you an experience here. It’ll be physical. You ain’t never felt pleasure like it.’

‘You sure about that?’

She nodded, and she didn’t take her eyes off him.

She hooked him right there.

He would have done anything for her.

He stepped aside so he had a direct line of sight to his guards and whistled a sharp note. One of them turned, leaving the other to watch the lobby diligently, adhering to proper procedure.

Vásquez raised his voice so they could hear and switched back to Spanish. ‘We’re not to be disturbed.’

‘Sí,’ the guard said.

‘No matter what you hear.’

The guard winked at the old man with a certain understanding behind it. He’d been there, done that. He knew what sounds to ignore. He must have already known the old man was a pervert.

Vásquez returned the gesture and continued down the hall. Violetta and Alexis followed him into a giant bedchamber, with a circular love bed that would have dwarfed a king-size.

Alexis said, ‘Oh, we’re gonna have some fun in here.’

Vásquez could barely contain himself.

Violetta shut the door behind them as Alexis took Vásquez’s hands in hers.

He was staring up into her eyes, transfixed, when Violetta used her body to