"This money is only enough for the tip-off. If you want to hit on me, you need to pay extra. I think my boss won’t mind me making some extra income during work hours!" The Black girl craftily said, quite willing to resume her old profession.
Lifting up her hair, her chest heavily swayed with two balloon-like breasts, indeed a hot figure. And a big ass too.
Beggar Gang Disciples eagerly looked towards Allen Zhang.
The General Sect Leader had no comments, just waved his hand, "You better hurry up and get it done, we’re here for serious business, alright?"
"Darling, when did they move in, was it yesterday?" Beggar Gang Disciple tried to extract information by displaying his charms. It turned out quite effective; as long as you’re willing to pay generously, many are ready to cooperate.
"Yes, I remember those two Black people, they were staying in room 312! And they ordered fried chicken fast food service. Those two portions of fried chicken just left this morning," the Black girl detailed.
"Thank you, darling, I think we should switch to another place to continue talking." Beggar Gang Disciple wrapped his arm around the Black girl and left the reception, directly groping her. With a smack on her buttocks.
Sieg watched the two entering a small room, questioning life. What, are you starting already?
"Look at others, then look at you! Strike when you need to!" Allen Zhang teased, "Don’t worry about the quality, as long as it can be eaten, who cares about the taste. It’s all seafood flavor after all. With money, you can even maintain a celebrity, without money, what are you fussing about?"
"I despise this kind of money transaction!" Sieg truly envied. His eyes flaming, teeth almost shattering.
Filled with wrath, Sieg clomped upstairs with keys in hand.
Allen Zhang and the others locked the main door, plastered a ’Closed’ sign, and went upstairs.
"Here’s the room." On the third floor at room 312, Sieg carefully inserted the key and twisted open the lock.
With a click, the door opened, and a group of people burst in.
A small suite, the TV still on, two Black men were lying naked on the bed asleep. On the bedside table, two unregistered Ghost Guns were blatantly placed.
Suddenly hearing the door open, the Black men blurry-eyed tried to get up, only to be kicked right in the chest!
Oh! Shit!! That kick nearly shattered him!
He flung from the headboard to the foot of the bed, rolling over twice, clutching his chest wheezing for air. Just as he looked up, he saw several hefty men surrounding him, guns aimed at his head.
Cold sweat streaming, Black instantly cleared his eyes and sobered up. What’s the situation here? Cops?
The other Black was slow to react; sitting up to see several white men storm in, followed by a leading Asian.
He watched as his colleague flew three meters away from a kick.
Then he pounced, pressing his head down and smashing it against the bedside cabinet. With two loud bangs, everything went dark for him, his head spinning, and a pistol forcibly shoved into his mouth.
Allen Zhang grabbed the Black’s dreadlocks, pressing his face down against the cabinet, knee pinning his neck, gun shoved into his mouth.
The Black’s face visibly reddened to a soy sauce color, his throat emitting a hissing sound, his face filled with terror.
Allen Zhang slapped his face, more loud smacks followed, hitting him till his eyes saw stars, half his face swelling up. He cursed loudly: "Was it you who took up the task to assassinate me? Speak up, Black!!"
The Black felt utterly wronged. With his neck pinned, drooling, he was barely able to speak.
I can’t breathe!! Sir! Save me!