Nick climbed the outside stairs of the motel. This place doesn’t look as though it’s been decorated since last time, he thought, eyeing the bare walls. “And the Christmas decorations look the same, too. If not more tired.” Nick sighed. “And they’re still playing f*****g ‘White Christmas’.”
Reaching the head of the stairs, Nick turned right and passed the identically painted room doors. These at least looked as though they’d had a coat of paint, although from the looks of them they would soon need another. He turned the corner and saw a door open a crack.
“Mick?” came the whispered voice from inside.
Nick rolled his eyes but answered, “Yes, but it’s Ni—”
The door opened wider, a muscular tattooed arm reached out, grabbed Nick’s own arm and yanked him inside.
“Hey! My arm still hurts fr
