Murder My Love (Kindle Books Mystery and Suspense Crime Thrillers Series Book 3) by Tad S. Torm Read Free Book Online Page A

chauffeur cap in my hand.
    Out they come, one by one, Michael, the first guard, leading the way. He's followed by Jack, who is smiling absent-mindedly.
    Michael gives me the go over, while Guard #2 hurries down the stairs behind Jack, opens the back door of the limo, searches inside and motions Jack in. Both Jack and Guard #2 get in the back.
    The first guard opens the door on the driver's side and looks inside, then moves into the passenger seat. I get back into my seat and we're all ready to follow our destiny.
    Out from the ocean, angry waves rush to greet us, their foamy crests lapping on the shore as they break against the piers of the harbor. I see the cliff to my right and salute it, my grouchy, inhospitable, but trustworthy friend.
    We've been riding on the local road for barely ten minutes when things suddenly take a turn for the worse.
    I haven't paid too much attention to Michael, who sits next to me. But now I notice he acts preoccupied. The man is unhappy. There is a sour, suspicious frown on his face. For the last few minutes, he's been taking quick, nervous peeks in my direction.
     
    Then he suddenly develops an itch to talk, "Good Morning, Zingor," he rehashes his earlier greeting. "How is your day going?"
    His eyes strain, as he's peering at my face.
    I play enchanted by the opportunity of small talk and beam a big smile, ear to ear.
    "Good morning, Michael, I have good day. And you?"
    "It's all good, couldn't be better, my friend."
    He gives me a curious look. Maybe my accent doesn't convince him, or maybe my posture at the wheel is slightly off.
    I feel the pressure of his surly unhappiness.
    This makes me nervous. I observe, out of the corner of the eye, the deep creases on his forehead, his eyes peering suspiciously when casting quick glances in my direction. Some doubt must be jostling inside his cranium, fighting against the tedium of the day.
    Yet he's undecided, and so far doesn't act on his suspicion.
    "You know, Zingor," he says, "I used to have a Zingovian girlfriend, a while back."
    "Zingovian beautiful girl," I approve enthusiastically his choice.
    "You telling me?"
    He lets out a soft groan.
    This makes me take a closer look, down to my right and in his direction. I see his hand nervously grappling with the holster of his weapon.
    "She always used to hum this song. How she loved it!" he continues nervously as he finally manages to unclasp the strap.
    He's now humming the popular song while his hand is slowly sliding down his hip, and his fingers grip the handle of the gun.
    "Good Day Love," I say, "is beautiful Zingovian song."
    He suspects something is not right. Jack can be alerted any minute. I cannot allow Michael to spoil my game.
    "There's something wrong here, boss…," Michael starts, turning his face toward Jack.
    I grab one of Lana's cigarettes and flip it in the air.
    This disconcerts him for a second.
    "Good Zingovian cigarette… wanna' try?"
    But the jig is up. I make a little more noise and unleash some creative chaos in our no longer cozy black limousine.
    I plant the cigarette back into my mouth, a good luck charm from Lana, whom I haven't seen now in six months.
    My switch-blade is hidden inside the car's left door pocket, under a greasy comb and a smattering of dirty used napkins, courtesy of Zingor.
    I throw the burning cigarette in Michael's face after which I apologize humbly.
    "Sorry, sorry, Michael… don't let cigarette burn."
    At the same time, I grab the knife by the hilt, switch it open and throw my right arm, which is now holding it, in a large arching and ultimately devastating sweep. The blade slashes through Michael's throat in a fell swoop.
    I turn my head and, forever polite, I apologize again, "Sorry for  accident," while grabbing Michael's gun, which is dangling loosely in its opened holster, in my right hand. I slow the car down and turn onto the shoulder of the road. My left hand secures the wheel. I look back just in time to see bodyguard #2 raising his