A/N: Things are about to get messy. Stay tuned.
Jordan got off the phone with the precinct when Tori came back up.
"What's the news?" she asked.
Tori looked back briefly at the front desk.
"They alerted hotel security to be on the lookout for a woman of Jade's description."
"Yeah, I just got off with Sergeant Hobbs. He's preparing a missing person's report. He said he's happy to start the search now while the trail is warm."
The tan woman surveyed the crowd and the gears in her head turned furiously.
"How many exits you think this building has?"
Jordan pondered that question.
"Keeping a lock could be tricky."
Tori suddenly became aware of the suspicious-looking duo clad in black with bulky luggage. None of this was adding up.
"Jordan?"
"Yeah?"
"See those two dudes, three o'clock."
The redhead noticed the two men. Now that Tori pointed them out, they DID stick out like sore thumbs.
"Right around the time I found Jade's bags," Tori explained. "I saw those guys. They barely said a thing to each other but haven't moved beyond the lobby. They look like they're waiting for someone."
Jordan instinctively patted her piece on its holster, turning off the safety in case she had to draw it quick.
"How about you get Hobbs back and call for backup. Tell them to turn off their sirens upon approach. We don't want to tip them off and we don't want to cause a panic."
"What about you?" asked Jordan.
"I'm going to talk with the hotel manager."
Carlos was startled when his phone rang. He picked it up and got nervous when it read "Anonymous" as the sender.
With reluctance, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Ah, the dead speak."
"Renato," he sighed in annoyance. "Do what do I owe the pleasure?"
"You really thought you were going to leave me? Everything we've built? Just like that?"
"Don't get sentimental, brother. You were never the type. That's why papa and you got along so well. Your unfeeling nature."
"You have to be a little cold to survive any business. Even you know that. But we know that's not what this is about."
Carlos looked out his window, looking down for any ostentatious vehicles parked below and across the nearby buildings for a sniper. He wouldn't put anything past him.
"I'm impressed of the lengths in which you tried to disappear. The boat was a bit much but I understand. Such an explosion on open water; how would anyone find any remains? For a while you had me fooled. But then I saw the activity on your...ahem...secret account."
That last thing made Carlos' blood run cold. He planned it all; he was careful but he was being watched all along.
"Oh yes, I knew of your holdings. And I cloned your phone. Believe me, I know everything that is said and done, Carlos."
"If I wasn't being clear up to this point let me be explicit - I'm not going back. I'm done."
"If it's a question of money..."
"Fuck the money! I just want out. You can keep everything; I don't care."
"It's not that simple," Renato flatly stated.
"Don't give me a lecture on family, dick! Father always went on and on about duty to family. This isn't a family. It never was! It's just a gang with blood ties."
The other side was silent for about ten seconds. For a moment Carlos thought he was disconnected.
"A gang? Well, as you know one doesn't simply leave a gang. There's no such thing as retirement. You're in this for life, brother. Just like father. Are you saying you're better than him?"
Carlos straightened his shirt as though his brother was standing in front of him.
"What if I am? What are you going to do about it?"
"Oh, from all the way back in Mexico, nothing. But they might."
Guns drawn, Esperanza and O'Reilly stood like statues.
Their prey was frozen in fright upon seeing them.
But it wasn't him.
Instead a frantic-looking woman held herself behind the grey comforter of the bed. The blonde woman acted like she was hiding behind it as both a barrier to preserve modesty and that the fabric would actually protect her.
Both assassins gave one another the side-eye briefly as they maintained their position.
The sudden sound of the bathroom door opening made O'Reilly jump and he shot at the man walking through, oblivious to the recent intrusion.
The shot made nary a sound above a light pop. The silencer made the bullet's travel inaudible from somebody outside the hotel room.
But the woman's scream shattered the mounting tension in the small room.
"Handle that!" ordered Esperanza.
O'Reilly leapt toward the woman to cover her mouth.
The older man peaked out the door to see if anybody was coming out in response to the commotion. A few onlookers did poke out of their rooms. The scream could be heard almost completely down this hall.
Esperanza retreated back into the room and expressionless shot the woman between the eyes. She went down hard and fast.
His redheaded counterpart backed away as though he were the one being shot at.
"FUCK! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU!"
"We got the wrong room!"
"I can SEE that! What happened?"
"No time! We need to go. NOW!"
Carlos kept his phone at his face as he motioned toward the door and checked the peephole. Nothing. Then he slowly cracked it open to look out into the corridor.
Nobody was standing by his room, so he slid cautiously into the hallway.
He unknowingly hung up on his brother when he recognized the grizzled visage of El Fantasma staring daggers at him from several doors down.
"Carlos," he growled.
"It's him!" cried out his redheaded counterpart.
The pair ran past the concerned guests, knocking over a few of them as Carlos broke into a full run.
(He did it. He really sent mercenaries to kill me.)
The younger hitman started shooting, bullets ricocheting off the metal signage and producing holes in the wall.
"Would you stop that, you idiot! You're just wasting ammo!"
O'Reilly relented and focused on chasing down their almost missed target.
A seasoned professional like Esperanza knew that anything other than a still, measured shot was wasted time and energy. These up and comers think they can shoot someone while running or aim sideways like in a crappy rap music video. Amateurs. You could empty an entire clip and maybe nail an innocent bystander but a patient killer only needs one shot with accuracy to get the job done.
You land bullets all over the place, you're just planting evidence like some kind of chaotic Johnny Appleseed.
Their intel was bad; they got the wrong room.
But as luck would have it, they found their target.
Esperanza was not going to let this kid or anyone else jeopardize the reputation he spent years to build.
(He can't get away. No mistakes. Renato never has to know.)
"Officer, I understand your concern but I have a business to run and..."
The white phone ringing right next to him made him pause the conversation between him and Tori.
"Front desk," he sternly answered. "What for? What? But I..."
The pompous-looking gentleman eyed Tori and handed her the landline.
"Vega," she answered.
She could tell from the deer-in-headlights look in his eyes that he was conversing with the LAPD.
"Understood. We will get started right away; thanks."
Tori reached past his and hung up the phone.
"As of right now, this building is on lock-down."
"You can't be serious..."
At the end of her patience, Tori snatched the man's necktie and drew him closer so they could only hear the conversation.
"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough. We have a missing woman. There are a couple suspicious cats right here in this lobby. And now we have a double homicide upstairs. Before we allow any further catastrophe, you had better secure all exits, nobody gets in or out."
"But our guests..."
"Call them, send a message to every room. Tell them that we have an active situation in the area and people have been advised to stay in their homes and businesses. And the management orders everyone to comply with the police by staying in their rooms until further notice."
She then felt a tap on her shoulder.
"Tori?"
"What?"
Jordan pointed to the men of interest and one of them was talking on a phone, looking rather cagey. His partner appears vexed as well.
"I got a bad feeling about this," Tori said.
"Okay," sighed Jordan. "Let's go and say hi."