Kill Me Now (Book 1)(Editing)

Chapter 3: Gimme That!

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Chapter 3

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A stiff figure watched as the group entered the dimly lit cavernous office. His full lips were pulled into a impassive thin line, and he tried to gauge whether or not the op had been successful by the group'a expressions. Hidden smiles, a flash of a grin here and there. Until he received the full details, he guessed the op had gone well.

Eric, the sandy-haired blue-eyed leader, strode in with confidence in each step. His eyes bored into the man's lounging in the chair with an arrogance that angered the other. The lounger reached for the cigar box he kept on his desk and leisurely lit one, bringing it to his lips as he stared at the group that was now occupying the spacious room.

"Where is she?" His voice was a raspy whisper that when filled with anger stroke fear in hearts.

"Who?" Was the inquiry of an overzealous agent. Chopping the end off the cigar, the lounger gave the agent a look that could turn Medusa to stone. The woman's lips quickly pressed together and she lowered her eyes. An expression of fright flitting across her face.

"The girl," he replied, looking to Eric. "Where is she?" The group parted to reveal a tiny blond child quivering with fear. Her eyes darted to the lounger's face, and just as quickly darted away. Her lips trembled ever so slightly, a tear snaked down her rosy cheek. The lounger's lip curled back and he swiveled his chair back to Eric.

"Does she look like the girl in the picture?" He tented his hands on the table while raging fury shot from his eyes. A shiver rippled through Eric, and he too looked away to the floor.

"You didn't give us a picture."

"Look in the file case," the man hissed. The agent holding it carefully sat it on the floor and opened it, revealing a red velvet lined interior filled with paper. The agent cracked open a pocket in the top of the case, and the photo fluttered out.

"Where is she?" The lounger repeated.

"Her," one of the men stuttered after glancing at the picture. "We left her on the plane."

"She's dead?" The lounger rose from his seat with a start, the whisper turning cold and deadly. No one responded. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he turned to Eric, whose defiant expression returned.

"You did this on purpose," he spoke in a voice so soft it was barely heard. Eric bravely tossed his hair out of his face and lifted his chin. Eyes filled with hatred glared at him.

"Perhaps I did."

"Well Eric," the lounger's left cheek twitched with controlled, venomous rage. "You will wish you had died in the plane too."

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"Well," Mitch stands up, slapping sand off his hands. "Might as well find some shelter." I roll my eyes at his 'take charge' tone and sit up. He's rebounded from the plane crash quickly, guess the almost death experience won't change him for the good.

"Ah," I chuckle. "This should be entertaining. Watching the rich boy do a man's work."

"You know nothing about me," Mitch's expression darkens. "Because if you did you would shut up."