“Get Off My Mat!” Black Belt Shoved a Hotel Cleaner — Then She Recognized His Fighting Stance
Chapter 8
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"Tommy was very clear, Abigail," Leon sighed, rolling his broad shoulders. "If we ever found you, we weren't supposed to bring you back. You cost him too much money. You embarrassed him."Saffron took a slow step backward. Her mind instantly mapped the environment: concrete walls, slippery floor, two heavy canvas laundry carts to her left, a high-pressure steam valve on the wall to her right."I don't want any trouble, Leon," Saffron said, her voice steady, dropping her stance an inch lower."Trouble already found you, sweetheart," Leon barked, and lunged. He moved with terrifying speed for a large man, leading with a vicious left hook aimed at her jaw.But Saffron was already in motion. She didn't retreat; she dove forward, sliding on the slick concrete floor, slipping entirely beneath Leon's punch. As she slid, she kicked outward, her heavy rubber-soled shoe smashing directly into Leon's kneecap. There was a sickening pop. Leon roared in pain, his leg buckling as he crashed into a laundry cart.The silent behemoth raised the pistol.Saffron didn't hesitate. She grabbed a heavy, wet, twisted bed sheet from the top of the nearest laundry bin. Moving purely on instinct, she whipped the heavy, wet cotton through the air like a medieval flail. The dense knot of wet fabric smashed directly into the giant's wrist just as he pulled the trigger. The suppressed gun coughed—thwip—and the bullet shattered the digital display of a washing machine three feet above Saffron's head.Before the giant could re-aim, Saffron closed the distance. She stepped inside his reach, ignoring the gun, and drove her palm upward in a brutal, rising strike that connected perfectly with the base of his chin. His teeth snapped together with a crack that echoed over the machines; his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed like a felled tree, the pistol clattering across the wet concrete.Leon, dragging his shattered knee, was trying to pull a knife from his belt. Saffron walked over to him. She didn't look angry; she looked exhausted. With a swift, merciless kick, she disarmed him, sending the knife spinning into a floor drain. She grabbed Leon by the lapels of his expensive suit and slammed him back against the steel casing of a washing machine."Listen to me," Saffron growled, her face inches from his. "You tell Adams something for me."Leon, gasping in pain, stared at her in terrified shock. This wasn't the scared girl who had run away from Miami; this was a predator backed into a corner."Tell him I'm done hiding," Saffron whispered. "Tell him I'm done running. I have three years of anger inside me, and I'm bringing it all to Vegas. If he sends anyone else after me, I won't just break their arms—I'll send them back in pieces. Understand?"Leon gave a frantic, jerky nod.Saffron let him go. He slumped to the wet floor, clutching his knee. She didn't run to her locker; she didn't need the fake Canadian passport anymore.The ghost of Saffron Howard was dead on the concrete floor of the Grand Olympia Hotel. Abigail Preston stepped over the unconscious giant, kicked open the heavy fire exit door, and walked out into the cold, chaotic streets of downtown Chicago. She didn't look back. She had a flight to catch to Las Vegas. It was time to settle the score.