Chapter Three
Gunshots pierced the air. Glass shattered. Screams filled the place. Customers panicked. Waiters dropped their trays.
"Calm down, everyone! The police will be here soon!" the manager shouted. A bullet shot through his heart and left his gaping. Blood slowly invaded the glossy marble floor.
Nick looked around him horrified. "Marielle! Duck!"
She turned around, just enough to see a black figure aiming his or her gun at her.
Nick gasped, "No-o-o-o-o!!!!"
"No! No!" he woke up in a cold sweat, awakened to his own screaming. "It's alright, Nick, it's just a dream." But it really had taken place-- only a few hours ago.
Nick gripped his wrist to stop it from shaking. "She's still alive. She's not dead." H
Still in shock, he stumbled over to the mini bar to grab a bottle of vodka. "Gotta face this like a man... Not a womanizer, but a 'beerizer'." It cannot wash away his fear, but it was enough to drown him in his own misery.
"She's isn't dead, she's still alive..." Nick reiterated, but the image of Marielle lying in a pool of blood keep on flooding back.
The bottle smashed on the cold ground, beer flow freely onto the pale carpet. Nick slumped back onto the sofa.
"Carter! What? I just saw you earlier this evening, didn't I? And now you're back again, four hours later? You've become quite a frequent visitor! Should I get you a cell here?" Officer inched closer to Nick's face. "Stay away from Marielle. She's too good for a womanizer like you."
"I'm not a womanizer!" Nick hollered. "Why can't they see it's not my fault. I never want to harm them!"
"Then stop going out with them," Dexter's acrid words bit Nick's mind.
"Shut up. Shut up," Nick gnarled.
Clumsily, he reached for the phone and dialed Brian's number. The answering machine picked it up, "Hi! You've reached Bri and Leigh's home. So-ory! We've out at the moment! probably in the shower, sleeping, chasing our dogs or enjoying our marriage life--" Nick slammed down the receiver. "Married men are hell! Where is my best friend when I needed him?"
He slouched back onto the couch and drifted off to a troubled sleep.
The phone rang all night, but no one answered.
1:03 a.m.
"Why did you kill the manager?" she answered ferociously. "I told you to kill the girl only. And she isn't dead. What do you mean by this."
"Sorry. I miss."
"Careful, or I'm going to do the job myself. It wouldn't be nice, for you or me."