I didn't let him finish. I swung the steel pipe in a full arc and cracked it across his brow bone.
Crack!
Blood sprayed across the hallway's cream wallpaper.
The bald one screamed, hands flying to his face, and dropped straight onto the carpet.
The remaining three froze for half a second.
Brick and Anvil each dropped one. Spyder swung a fire extinguisher into the last one and put him on his back.
Four bodyguards. Seven seconds.
I stood in front of Suite 2801.
Through the heavy solid-wood door, music blasted so loud it rattled my teeth, and men's laughter rolled underneath it, loose and filthy.
I lifted my foot.
Bang! The lock warped on impact, and both double doors slammed open wide.
The stench hit me first: imported liquor, cigar smoke, and beneath it all, the sour chemical reek of whatever they'd drugged her with.
I spotted Mila instantly.
She was tied to the armrest of a couch, her jacket ripped half off, blouse buttons scattered across the floor.
There was blood at the corner of her mouth.
A short, heavyset man had her jaw clamped in one hand, tipping a wine glass into her mouth.
Liquor ran down her throat and pooled along her collarbone.
Her eyes were already glazed over.