Page 89 of Gamble with Me
“No?” I lifted a brow, motioning for Malin to do his job. He pulled the thread out, walking with a devilish smirk to the accountant.
“Okay, okay!” Damien yelled, standing in the way of my brother. “I believe we can make a deal.”
“The only deal you’ll get is this!” Dorian rumbled, pointing his gun at the file. “Sign it, or you all die.”
“No.” Damien shook his head resolutely, but he wasn’t the only man in the room.
“What’s in the file?” the older man, who I knew was in tight contact with Valentino, inquired, stretching his arm toward it. Three heads came together to read my proposition, and even when it was clear they didn’t like it, they seemed to value their lives more.
“If we sign it, Mr. Zhumagulov, will you let us live?” the older man asked, holding the black pen in his left trembling hand.
“Of course,” I replied with an honest smile. “I just want what you owe me.”
He nodded, quickly writing his name on the dotted line and moving the file to another man. Eventually, they all signed it—Damien finally gave in after his hesitancy—and a victorious grin crossed my face. This was easier than I thought.
“It’s a pleasure to do business with you, gentlemen,” I beamed when the file came to me, seeing all signatures were placed right as they should have been since the beginning.
After I folded the papers, I hid them in the inner pocket of my jacket and signaled to my brothers. Our men had already climbed to the fifth floor and prepared everything for our departure. It was time to disappear.
“What about the corpse?” Damien hissed, pointing at the dead body at the head of the table. “Clean your mess.”
“Don’t worry.” Dorian slammed his shoulder hard, grinning maniacally. “We always clean our mess.”
The real meaning of his words was terrifying and truthful at the same time. We never left loose ends. We constantly checked our tracks and eliminated witnesses. If Damien believed this would be different, he was more naive than a thirteen-year-old virgin.
My brothers joined me on the way out of the conference room, and we came face to face with our boys. We walked out, and they entered the room, throwing three canisters of gasoline inside, followed by a couple of lighters. When I turned to look back, the flames already roared like hungry vultures ready to swallow everything in their path.
With three clicks on his phone, Malin sealed the door and windows into the conference room, making it impossible to escape. When he had lit the cigarette before, he checked the lock on the windows so he could close it, leaving them no option to escape.
Our enemies were trapped in a burning hell, screaming and banging on the thick glass while we ran down the stairs and into the safety of our respectful lives.
We had alibies. We had witnesses who would claim to see us at work. We had cover for everything.
The plan was bold and dangerous but turned out flawlessly. This was a breakthrough. Now, we only had to wait to see how the Italians would react to this unexpected attack.
“We are insane.” Dorian laughed when the explosion occurred and the window fell on the road before our car. Jamal pushed the gas pedal hard, smoothly navigating us into the traffic by the thoroughly prepared escape route.
“Yeah,” Malin agreed, tapping on his phone. “We are clear. No camera caught us.”
“Aren’t you a magician?” I joked, pulling the leather gloves off, but it was hard with two of them squeezing me in the middle. “Fuck, this car is too small for us.”
“I told you to take the Hummer.” Dorian shrugged, looking over me to Malin. “Are you sure no one will tie us with this?”
“They will tie us with this,” I pointed out, nudging him with my elbow to move him a little. “They just won’t be able to prove it.”
“Exactly,” Malin confirmed, showing me the screen with the crazy amount of money written on it. “I’m paying the boys what they earned. The plane is waiting for them.”
“Okay,” I approved, staring outside at the two firefighters’ trucks heading in the opposite direction, followed by three police cars. “Are we sure everyone got out safely?”
“I trust our boys,” Dorian stated, but Malin was more realistic.
“We’ll know for sure when they count the victims,” he replied, ignoring Dorian’s roll of eyes. “Someone might’ve got stuck in the toilets or on the balcony.”
“Fine. Keep an eye on it,” I ordered, counting the seconds to get to our underground parking garage. “If someone unexpectedly died there, ensure their family will receive the money. It won’t return their loved ones, but it’s the best we can do.”
“Yes, boss,” Dorian confirmed, finally exiting the car. “I’m going back to the clinic. I'll be performing a minor surgery . Let me know if the police show up.”
“I’ll be in my office,” I announced, watching Malin sit on his motorcycle and leave without another word.
