Chapter 360 Who Called The Police
“Mr. Jones!” Anthony called out.
The moment he heard the angry roar that came from the entrance, Anthony, who knelt on the ground after being slapped by Jonathan, seemed as if he saw his savior. He hurriedly yelled, “Mr. Jones, help me!”
“What are you shouting for?” asked Shawn upon hearing Anthony’s cry for help.
The former could not help glaring daggers at the latter. “What are you guys doing kicking up a fuss in the hotel lobby? Are you trying to revolt?”
“Mr. Jones, I-”
Before Anthony could explain the situation, the lackey behind Shawn whispered, “Mr. Jones, take a look at the fellow. Doesn’t he look like the guy we met at Shadow Dragon Pool, whose last name is Goldstein?”
“Oh, really?” replied Shawn.
As soon as he heard his lackey’s words, he shifted his gaze toward Jonathan.
“It’s you?” asked Shawn.
It was as if he recognized Jonathan with a brief look.
After all, the former was deeply traumatized by the latter.
Jonathan was someone who could massacre hundreds of soldiers of a private army with only a gun until they failed to fight back.
He was no human. Rather, he was a monster.
“Does this hotel belong to you?” asked Jonathan. He could also recognize Shawn in an instant.
Isn’t this the Mr. Jones whom I met at Shadow Dragon Pool?
“Yeah, so?” replied Shawn in an icy tone.
Back in the wilderness, he was afraid of Jonathan because he had no choice.
That was because in such a remote and desolate place, even if Jonathan shot Shawn dead, no one would find out.
However, at that moment, the tables had turned.
Shawn was in Jipsdale—his family’s territory.
He was no longer scared of Jonathan.
“If that’s the case, hurry up and get a room for me!” Jonathan had no time for Shawn’s nonsense. The former felt uncomfortable as he was covered with blood from head to toe.
“A room?” Shawn smirked when he heard that request.
He then said, “You beat my employee up, and yet you still dare to ask for a room? Jonathan, do you think this is Shadow Dragon Pool, that forsaken place where I can do nothing about you killing hundreds of people?”
What? He killed hundreds of people?
Anthony face turned ashen upon hearing that.
This man’s a murderer?
Recalling his attitude toward Jonathan earlier, Anthony instantly felt a chill down his spine.
“Is there any difference to me?” Jonathan stared at Shawn indifferently and asked again, “I want a room. Are you going to get one for me?”
“Ha! A room? You punk, I’ll be frank with you. You’re quite bold. At Shadow Dragon Pool, I already gave you a chance to live, but I didn’t expect you to show up here.” With a sneer, Shawn continued, “You can’t stay in any of the rooms here. However, I can send you to a prison cell. It’s free, so you don’t have to worry!”
With that, he signaled to his lackey by waving. “Call the cops!” he yelled.
“Yes!” answered the lackey.
At Shawn’s command, the lackey picked up the phone and called the police right away.
“Hello, is this the police station? We discovered a terrorist at Jipsdale International Hotel. Please send some people over now!”
Then, he hung up the phone and turned to Shawn. “Mr. Jones, I’ve made the report,” he said.
“All right,” replied Shawn, nodding.
He then looked at Jonathan and said, “Punk, you’re obviously asking for it. Not only did you kill so many people under my nose and not bother escaping, but you even have the guts to come to my hotel. Do you think I don’t dare to touch you?”
Previously, when he was at Shadow Dragon Pool, Shawn, as the eldest son of the Jones family, had to suffer grievances. He thought that he would never meet Jonathan in his life again. Yet, little did Shawn know, Jonathan took the initiative to show up in front of him.
Now that he’s here, I should teach him a lesson. If not, I’m not worthy of my position in the family.
Upon hearing Shawn’s words, Jonathan replied flatly, “Escape? Why should I escape? It’s merely a few hundred drug dealers. I don’t care if I killed them, so why should I run away?”
Only a few hundred drug dealers? He doesn’t care they died at his hands?
Jonathan’s words left the onlookers in shock. Their faces turned ashen.
Those are drug dealers—people who kill without batting an eye! Yet, it seems to this man that eliminating those ferocious criminals is as easy as stepping on ants.
“Punk, you’re really stubborn!” Shawn could not help laughing after hearing what Jonathan had to say. The former then continued, “However, I’m not sure if you’d still behave like this once the police arrive.”
As soon as he stopped talking, he waved again. “Everyone! Surround him. Don’t let him escape!”
“Yes!” answered the security guards and waiters in unison once they received the order.
Immediately after, Jonathan was surrounded by the hotel employees.
Yet, facing the situation at hand, Jonathan did not bother sparing Shawn a glance. Instead, he pulled a chair over and sat down. Lighting a cigarette, he took a big puff and said, “Who said I’m trying to escape? I just killed several hundred drug dealers. What’s done is done! I’d like to see if the cops in Jipsdale are brave enough to arrest me.”
Suddenly, everyone was taken aback.
They stared at Jonathan blankly. Evidently, none of them expected him to sit down and enjoy a cigarette so calmly instead of resorting to desperate measures to run away at such a critical moment.
Who gave him the audacity to act so calm and steady even after murdering hundreds?
“Punk, you can keep pretending. I’d like to see how long you can continue doing so,” Shawn scoffed. He did not take Jonathan’s word seriously at all.
Where is this? This is Jipsdale—the Jones family’s territory! I don’t care how much power he holds. As long as he’s in Jipsdale, I’d make him yield and kneel before me!
Right when Shawn finished his sentence, sirens echoed outside the hotel out of the blue.
In mere seconds, countless police in uniform appeared as they surrounded the entire hotel.
At that moment, multiple armed police officers kicked open the door to the hotel.
“Who called the police? Where’s the terrorist?” asked Lionel Moretz sternly as soon as he went inside.
“I did!” Shawn stepped out of the crowd straight away when he heard the officer’s question.
“Mr. Jones?” Lionel could tell at one glance who the person walking over was.
