Page 15 of Big Bold Gambler

I curse under my breath, running my fingers through my hair. I know he’s right. He’s always been the one to call me out when I get too worked up, but that doesn’t make it easier to hear.

“Fine, whatever.” Reluctantly, I toss my cigarette on the ground, grinding it out with boot toe. Then I turn and hop back into the van.

When I called Ashton up about finding Jeannie and—I’m presuming considering I can’t get ahold of him—Patrick, he’d shown up with all the equipment we would need piled in a large, but unobtrusive van. Now parked in a back lot away from prying eyes, I take in his advice and start loading and preparing a few guns for me to take when we finally find that bastard Gorshkov.

The low hum of Ashton’s computer fills the air for a few minutes, the sound of keys clicking and him muttering to himself as he digs deeper. Besides that and the clacking of each gun I prepare, the space is quiet for a long while. I hate it. It leaves my brain open to ponder on what could possibly be happening int the time it is taking us to find them.

I don’t know what the hell Gorshkov is planning, but I need to find him. I need to make sure Jeannie’s safe. I know that Patrick could handle himself. It were just him, I wouldn’t worry so much. But trying to get himself out alive while protecting hissheltered daughter who’s probably never even seen a gun? I can’t let up until I find them.

Suddenly, Ashton sits up straighter in his chair, his fingers freezing mid-keyboard. I immediately putt all of my focus on him.

“Got a hit,” he announces, almost too casually. “Gorshkov’s face popped up on a security camera in a donut shop a few blocks from here.”

My chest tightens. “A donut shop?” I don’t even hide the disbelief in my voice. Gorshkov is a calculating bastard—he doesn’t make mistakes.

“Yeah, I know, right?” He shakes his head. “Dumbass apparently couldn’t resist getting a donut the day he kidnaps two people.

“Are you sure?”

“Sounds improbable, I know,” Ashton scrolls through the footage, the grainy images showing Gorshkov’s unmistakable face, “but he’s there, plain as day.”

“Expand the search,” I growl, my pulse picking up speed. “Find everything you can in a three-mile radius. He’s not just hanging out at a donut shop for no reason.”

Ashton doesn’t hesitate. He’s already moving, zooming in on the area, bringing up street maps and satellite imagery. I wait in silence, my mind racing, calculating all the possible outcomes. But none of them look good. Not when Gorshkov’s involved. That son of a bitch never gives up.

Ashton pauses. “Found something. There’s a warehouse a couple of blocks away.”

“You think that’s it?”

“Well it’s under the name of someone named Vince Gordon.” He gives me a deadpan look. “I’m thinking this is it.”

I don’t answer, I just start grabbing guns, strapping them to my ankles, chest, and waist. Ashton stands, crouching slightly in the low-roofed vehicle.

“Pass me some.” I stop and look at him surprised. “No strings, no favors. You’re as close as I got to a friend in this business and if your girl is in danger, I’m going to help.”

“We suit up, we move fast,” I respond, my tone choked with gratitude. Ashton doesn’t even respond, but I can feel the unspoken understanding between us.

“There’s a good chance he’s working alone. So if we can surprise him, it could be an easy take down.”

I grab my gun, check it, and nod to Ashton. “Let’s do this.”

I’m not sure how long it takes us to get to the warehouse. Time’s a blur when all I can focus on is getting to Jeannie. Ashton’s got his head buried in the satellite images again, tapping away at his laptop like a man on a mission. I don’t bother him. I’m too busy trying not to fucking lose it, counting the seconds, the miles, anything that’ll keep my head from snapping.

I drive up to a spot behind the warehouse, hidden enough to stay off the radar. Ashton spots a back entrance on the screen, buried in the shadows behind a line of bushes and debris. You wouldn’t know it was there unless you knew where to look.

I kill the engine and grab my gear, checking everything one last time before we step out into the quiet. The van’s parked close enough to the entrance for us to move fast but far enoughthat we won’t draw attention. We split off, both of us taking a different route in. The plan’s simple: get in, find Gorshkov, kill the son of a bitch, get Jeannie and Patrick, get out. Fast. Clean. Easy, hopefully.

The air’s heavy, the kind of silence that makes my skin itch, like something’s about to snap. I follow the layout Ashton gave me, taking a sharp left into a hallway that smells like old rust and oil. I try to keep my footsteps light but steady, feeling the weight of every step. Gotta stay sharp. Gotta stay alive.

I pass a few doors before I stop in front of one. It’s just a metal door, old and faded, but it feels like it’s holding something inside that I need to know. My gut’s telling me this is the place.

I turn the knob and step inside. It’s like stepping into the heart of the warehouse’s old machinery, with metal walkways that look like they could collapse at any second. The place is a maze of rusted metal and shadows. I move slow, taking it all in as I walk along the walkway, checking every door I pass.

First three doors are empty—just supply rooms filled with nothing I care about. I keep moving, listening for any sound that’s not mine.

The fourth door’s different. I can hear two voices inside. One of them is definitely Jeannie’s. My heart skips a beat. I move closer to the door, careful not to make a sound. I peek through the small window.

There she is. Jesus Christ, there she is.

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