Page 19 of Wildcard's Wager

“I’m sorry that we didn’t meet, but I couldn’t risk Squiggy finding out where I was. Could you have guaranteed that no one coming through your clubhouse would have told him?”

The silence on the other end is tangible. But Havoc sighs. “No, I couldn’t have guaranteed it. Still pissed off, but I get it. Squiggy was a piece of shit, but he was a connected piece of shit. He might have had spies at other clubs searching for you. You made the right call, Wildcard.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me.

“So, with that out of the way, Brigit, can you tell us what happened yesterday?”

“I can’t believe it was just yesterday,” Brigit starts before describing how she witnessed her boss’s murder and the man who killed him.

“You’re certain it was Misha Orloff?” Havoc asks.

“Positive. I’ve met him several times at the hotel. He often ate at the restaurant and spent the night. I spoke to him the few times that Mike had me join the poker tournaments he hosted.”

“Why did he want you there?” I ask.

“I’m good. Mike liked it when I won, as long as I didn’t win too much. However, I only attended a few times. The games started out friendly, but eventually the other players made mefeel uncomfortable. Especially Misha. He asked me out and when I said no, he got more aggressive.”

So, Misha has signed his death warrant. Pushing himself on my woman has earned him a painful demise.

CHAPTER TWELVE: BRIGIT

Wildcard stiffens next to me at the mention of how Misha creeped me out. I lay my hand on his leg to calm him. He slides his fingers between mine and squeezes.

“Misha knows you saw him?” Chill asks.

I nod. “Oh, yeah. I made a noise when he shot Mike. He looked right at me before I took off running. His two thugs chased me outside and shot at me as I drove away.”

“Can you remember anything that they discussed? Like why Misha killed Mike?” Havoc asks. “Might help us if we knew the motive.”

“Yes, Misha was angry at Mike because of an undercover cop. Something about Mike not vetting the customers. Mike blamed George.”

“George who?” Wired asks.

“George Calloway. He’s the night manager.”

“Was he in the room, too?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so. At least I didn’t see him. He usually leaves before I arrive.”

“What else did they say?”

“Misha said he disposed of the cop. Wait. Maybe Mike was the one who said that. I can’t remember. I just know it sounded like the cop was dead.”

“Did you see anyone besides Misha and his men?”

“No. Why?”

“Because the cops have a witness who says they saw you leaving Mike’s office right before they found the body.”

“I didn’t go into the office. I only stood outside. Who said they saw me?”

“My contact doesn’t have that information. According to him, you’re the only suspect.”

I feel my heart drop, but then I remember something. “What about the security cameras? We have cameras inside the hotel and outside. Not inside the offices, but they cover the hallway.”

“Did you have access to the security cameras?” Spark asks.

Nodding quickly, I give them the name of the network and my login information. “This should give you access to everything that’s on the server.”

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