Page 115 of Gambler's Conceit

I remember how terrified—and how relieved—Seven had been when I’d made him promise not to go with other men.

“No,” I state. “He didn’t. Try again.” I raise the gun at him. “Tell me where Seven is, Grant.”

Grant’s jaw drops. “You’re threatening me? Because of him? But you were the one who?—”

He cuts himself off, and I know he did that on purpose, but I ask anyway, “I was the one whowhat, Grant?”

Grant folds his arms and leans back on the couch. He’s trying not to look scared, but I can see the tension in his body. “You were trying to find out who he was, right? Somebody BCC’d me on the emails to you. One Lockwood family? They were offering a lot of money for his return.”

The blood goes cold in my veins. “You contacted them?”

Grant shrugs. “Didn’t have anything else to do while I was recovering.”

Shit.

All my efforts to lead them down the wrong path, to be coy with the information I have, to use anonymous accounts—all gone.

I bark out a dark laugh. “So you stole my easy paycheck?”

The mention of money makes Grant relax. He understands money. That makes more sense to him than me actuallycaringabout Seven.

“I’ll split the funds with you,” Grant says quickly. “It’s all in cash. A hundred thousand.”

“A hundred thousand?” I repeat, tightening my grip on the gun. “I was negotiating for more than that.”

“Yeah, well, it didn’t seem like they were going for it.” Grant is putting on a good face, but his eyes are still locked with the gun. “Sometimes you have to compromise.”

“They whisked him away, then?” My mind is racing, and I know I don’t have a lot of time. The longer Seven is missing, the harder it will be for us to get him back. “You should have introduced us. I’ve been dying to meet Mr. Lockwood.”

Grant shakes his head. “Nah, they only sent a goon. I was hoping to meet one of the Lockwoods too, but it is what it is.”

He was hoping for a new job, I’m sure.

This isn’t a lot of information to go on, but at least it wasn’t the Lockwoods themselves who came to retrieve Seven. Havoc, Vortex, and I still have a chance.

“Oh, Grant?” I say casually.

Grant tenses. “Yes, boss?”

“You’re fired.” I pull the trigger, and watch as the bullet lodges itself in Grant’s chest.

He cries out and stumbles off the couch. After two steps, he falls forward, and his blood spreads out around him.

I listen to him wheeze for a few seconds before I pull out my phone. “Vortex,” I bark as soon as he answers. “Seven got pulled in by an enforcer. Grant… Grant sold him out to the Lockwoods.”

I don’t tell him about my part in this.

I don’t tell him about this mistake that had Seven ripped out of our grasp.

“What?” Vortex asks, but his bewilderment turns into obvious fury as he goes on in a snarl, “I will fucking slaughter him. Where the fuck is he? No, where the fuck is Seven? I’ll deal with Grant later.”

“Grant isn’t a problem anymore,” I say, stepping back to avoid getting blood on my shoes. “Seven… shit. They must have gone out one of the side exits. They’d have to go for the bus stop or the airport or…” If they came with their own car, we’re fucked. My hand clenches around my phone. “Find him, Vortex.”

“I’m on it,” Vortex says. “We’ll find him, boss.” He hangs up, leaving me alone with Grant’s body and my thoughts.

For several long minutes, my mind is blank.

I have no real plan, no leverage,nothing.

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