Gus crowded in closer to me. “You think you’re a badass ‘cause you got off one shot? Why don’t you—”
I pivoted and drove my fist into his midsection. He gasped, and I brought the heel of my hand up under his jaw. His teeth clacked shut, and blood spurted out his mouth, probably from biting his tongue. I hit him again in the stomach, and he slumped to the floor.
I swiveled toward Ross. “You wanna go?”
Ross held his hands up in surrender. “Hey, man, I’m just taking you to Mr. Moffitt’s office.”
I turned back to the crumpled Gus, now breathing heavily. “If you fuckin’ move before I get out of this elevator, you will never move again.”
Gus just continued to squeeze his eyes shut as the blood leaked out of his mouth.
I wasn’t kidding. Gus had stepped into the wrong place at the wrong time. Anger was rippling through my body, and I didn’t need an excuse to unleash it.
The elevator came to a halt, and the doors opened. I stepped out. The doors closed and sent Gus away.
Ross and I walked down the corridor toward Moffitt’s office and found him sitting behind his desk.
He looked up and smiled. “Mr. Braddock, nice to see you again.” He glanced past me at Ross. “Thank you, Ross. That will be all.”
Ross looked concerned, like maybe he should mention that I’d flattened Gus in the elevator. But he wasn’t confident enough to stand up to his boss’s dismissal. He hesitated, then sort of shrugged and left, closing the office doors behind him.
“So, Mr. Braddock,” Moffitt said. “What can I do for you today?”
“You’re going to tell me about Landon Keene,” I said.
A moment of forced confusion flickered through his features. “I think you mentioned his name last time and —”
I walked around the desk, grabbed him by the shirt, and lifted him out of the leather chair. Shock registered on his face, and he slapped at my hands. I shoved him over to the window and banged his forehead on the glass.
“Look carefully,” I said.
“What?” Moffitt said, his voice frantic. “What?”
“Two hundred yards in front of you,” I said. “Do you see him?”
He steadied himself, now looking out the window, probably wondering what the hell he was supposed to see. Then he said, “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s right,” I said, glancing up and spotting Carter outside, aiming the rifle right at us. “I’m going to let you go, but you aren’t going to move. If you do, he’s going to make your head a convertible before you get more than a foot. Do you understand?”
“Jesus Christ,” he repeated.
“I seriously doubt he will be the one to greet you in the afterlife. Do you understand me?” “Yes! Shit, yes! I get it.”
“And if anyone barges in here and you don’t tell them to get the fuck out, I’m going to signal to him and he’s going to kill you. Do you understand that?”
Sweat was running down his cheeks. “Yeah, I understand.”
“Don’t pull your forehead off that glass,” I said. “Don’t move until I tell you to.”
“Alright! What the fuck do you want from me?”
“Tell me about Landon Keene.”
His eyes were dancing back and forth between me and the rifle pointed at him from two hundred yards away. “What do you want to know?”
“He works for you?”
“No. Yes. He’s blackmailing me.”
That surprised me. “How?”
He was bent over at an awkward angle, but he was as still as a statue. “I pay him. He works out of my casino.”
“Works out of your casino. Hiring coyotes?”
His eyes shifted in my direction. “Yes.”
“Are you involved in his smuggling operation?”
“I was. I got out a few years ago as I was getting into the casinos. That’s what he’s holding over me,” he said. “It overlapped for a while.
He says he’ll go to the gaming board and let them know about my past if I don’t let him do his thing.”
That made sense. Moffitt didn’t need the smuggling money because the casino money was worlds better. But one wrong turn and it could all disappear.
“My back is killing me,” he said. “Can I stand up?”
“Do it slowly, but don’t turn away from the glass. Keep your eyes on our friend out there.”
