Murder My Love (Kindle Books Mystery and Suspense Crime Thrillers Series Book 3) by Tad S. Torm Page B
Authors: Tad S. Torm
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it over when you get here," she says.
When we met for the first time, everything felt just right: sitting beside her on the plane, talking with her for hours and hours, making love to her or just hanging out seemed, no, were the most natural things.
We belonged together and knew it, and there was no distance between us.
Can I say the same thing today?
"I'm in room 11117 at the Excelsior. Do you know where it is?"
"Everybody knows. Downtown, across from Brian Park."
I know we'll have our difficulties, especially if her father's name gets introduced into the conversation when things might turn dicey, but then every family has its problems.
This is an opportunity I cannot miss.
I take a quick shower. I nick myself while shaving. It's only normal that I want to look my best. However, I don't waste too much time getting dressed. I want to see her. I want to see her as soon as possible.
Suddenly, I'm in a terrible rush. But before I leave, I absent-mindedly open the top drawer of my secretary and pocket the gun Guard #2 left with me. It was never used in the Jack Soldi incident. I never got a chance to find out the guard's name, so that for me he'll forever remain Guard #2.
All of a sudden, I'm shaking.
I back out of my parking spot in the garage, and I almost hit the left post with my back fender. Should I even be driving?
I park on a street bordering Brian park. I check the names and the numbers of the streets just to be sure I'll find my car when I come back.
I cut through the green, but this time I don't stop to relax by the artificial lake. This time I don't have time to enjoy the ducks and the squirrels.
I get into the lobby and don't pay any attention to the personnel at the desk. I open the door to the staircase and start climbing the stairs, three at a time.
I stop out of breath on the tenth floor for a minute to take a break. I use the time to straighten my coat, check my hair and the knot of my tie.
I'm finally on the eleventh floor, searching for room number 11117. I find it and take a short second before knocking at the door.
"Who's there, Greg?" she asks.
"Hi, Lana."
"Come on in!"
I open the door and get into the vestibule. I see a half-opened door at the end of it.
"Come on in! Come on in! Don't be bashful!"
I take a look at her through the doorway.
She's as beautiful as ever, lounging lazily on an Imperial bed, with her blonde tresses falling on both sides of the pillow. She's a beautiful woman, but for me, she is more, much more.
"Come in closer," she purrs.
I take a small step. I take another small step.
She wears a low-cut nightgown that reveals the tips of her breasts.
I look at my watch like in a daze. It is 11:00 o'clock.
Let's have lunch!" I propose.
"Not now! We'll have lunch later, in my room. What I want now is to see you!"
So I move closer and keep gazing at her with admiration.
Looking at her: her beauty, her charm, her intelligence, and thinking that I get to be together with that woman again, and all the excitement and peace of that blessed night come back into my mind in dizzying waves of imagination.
Another step, and I'm thoroughly hypnotized as I inch toward her bed without thinking, like a perfect automaton.
Her blue eyes, the mirror of her soul, draw me inexorably toward her.
I dreamed about those strange, mysterious eyes. I spent so many hours gazing into them.
Now they seem preoccupied. My sweetheart is not thinking of love; dangerous thoughts are racing through her mind.
I take a step back and then a second one. But I don't want to miss her. I don't want to ever lose her again.
I notice a rise under the silk blanket about her mid-section. It slowly unfolds and gradually takes the shape of a gun barrel.
I know I'm marching to catastrophe, but I cannot make myself stop.
I want to explain this to you in detail so that you can understand the extent of my misfortune.
When you happen to have my kind of training, the defensive instinct rules over the logical
When we met for the first time, everything felt just right: sitting beside her on the plane, talking with her for hours and hours, making love to her or just hanging out seemed, no, were the most natural things.
We belonged together and knew it, and there was no distance between us.
Can I say the same thing today?
"I'm in room 11117 at the Excelsior. Do you know where it is?"
"Everybody knows. Downtown, across from Brian Park."
I know we'll have our difficulties, especially if her father's name gets introduced into the conversation when things might turn dicey, but then every family has its problems.
This is an opportunity I cannot miss.
I take a quick shower. I nick myself while shaving. It's only normal that I want to look my best. However, I don't waste too much time getting dressed. I want to see her. I want to see her as soon as possible.
Suddenly, I'm in a terrible rush. But before I leave, I absent-mindedly open the top drawer of my secretary and pocket the gun Guard #2 left with me. It was never used in the Jack Soldi incident. I never got a chance to find out the guard's name, so that for me he'll forever remain Guard #2.
All of a sudden, I'm shaking.
I back out of my parking spot in the garage, and I almost hit the left post with my back fender. Should I even be driving?
I park on a street bordering Brian park. I check the names and the numbers of the streets just to be sure I'll find my car when I come back.
I cut through the green, but this time I don't stop to relax by the artificial lake. This time I don't have time to enjoy the ducks and the squirrels.
I get into the lobby and don't pay any attention to the personnel at the desk. I open the door to the staircase and start climbing the stairs, three at a time.
I stop out of breath on the tenth floor for a minute to take a break. I use the time to straighten my coat, check my hair and the knot of my tie.
I'm finally on the eleventh floor, searching for room number 11117. I find it and take a short second before knocking at the door.
"Who's there, Greg?" she asks.
"Hi, Lana."
"Come on in!"
I open the door and get into the vestibule. I see a half-opened door at the end of it.
"Come on in! Come on in! Don't be bashful!"
I take a look at her through the doorway.
She's as beautiful as ever, lounging lazily on an Imperial bed, with her blonde tresses falling on both sides of the pillow. She's a beautiful woman, but for me, she is more, much more.
"Come in closer," she purrs.
I take a small step. I take another small step.
She wears a low-cut nightgown that reveals the tips of her breasts.
I look at my watch like in a daze. It is 11:00 o'clock.
Let's have lunch!" I propose.
"Not now! We'll have lunch later, in my room. What I want now is to see you!"
So I move closer and keep gazing at her with admiration.
Looking at her: her beauty, her charm, her intelligence, and thinking that I get to be together with that woman again, and all the excitement and peace of that blessed night come back into my mind in dizzying waves of imagination.
Another step, and I'm thoroughly hypnotized as I inch toward her bed without thinking, like a perfect automaton.
Her blue eyes, the mirror of her soul, draw me inexorably toward her.
I dreamed about those strange, mysterious eyes. I spent so many hours gazing into them.
Now they seem preoccupied. My sweetheart is not thinking of love; dangerous thoughts are racing through her mind.
I take a step back and then a second one. But I don't want to miss her. I don't want to ever lose her again.
I notice a rise under the silk blanket about her mid-section. It slowly unfolds and gradually takes the shape of a gun barrel.
I know I'm marching to catastrophe, but I cannot make myself stop.
I want to explain this to you in detail so that you can understand the extent of my misfortune.
When you happen to have my kind of training, the defensive instinct rules over the logical
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