Ghosts, Matt Rogers [reading the story of the .txt] 📗

She could feel his desperation, and she understood. He was losing to Keith Ray. Losing to a man who knew every aspect of his operation, and if Gates came up short in the war, Wan’s would be no more. Beneath the inflated confidence there was nihilism. He knew he might not live to see the next day, not if Ray came after him. And here was a gorgeous woman in enough of a compromised state to entertain maybe a drink with him. He’d given up on everything. He’d lost contact with King and Slater, and therefore Ward, and his lifelines were rapidly expiring.

Why not enjoy the next hour as best he could before it all went to hell?

She said, ‘What top-shelf shit you got?’

He said, ‘Anything you want, baby.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Baby? You’re lucky you’re cute.’

‘Cute?’ he said, his hands twitching. ‘Heard a lot of things before. Never heard that.’

‘Yeah,’ she said, taking another step closer. ‘You got something about you.’

‘You got lots about you.’

She gave a ditzy laugh.

He said, ‘Come on in. I don’t bite.’

‘What if I want you to bite?’

He stepped aside to let her through.

She went by slowly, making sure he got a good look at her rear in the jean shorts. Hopefully sending the blood out of his brain to … somewhere else. The corridor she entered was dark and grimy, windowless, lit only by a weak bulb and a few neon lights.

She turned around.

He’d already closed the door. Now he was really shaking, like he’d been subduing something he couldn’t tell her, and she started to realise that not even a tourist partying in Vegas could be as oblivious as she was trying to act right now. But before she could mention his obvious tics, he pulled a six-speed revolver from the back of his waistband and aimed it between her eyes.

She had a compact Glock concealed into the side of her jean shorts, but there was no way she could get to it in time.

He said, ‘You think I’m fucking stupid?’

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She didn’t answer.

He said, ‘It’s sad, you know. That they’d send their woman. They think that little of me.’

She dropped the act immediately.

Somehow, some way, he knew.

He saw her recognition, and laughed so loud it resonated off the walls. ‘I’m just a dumbass coke addict, right? Right? That’s what you think. That’s what your friends think. That’s what they all think. Did they forget I have a tech guy? He’s worth his weight in gold. Way overqualified for me and my miserable setup, wouldn’t you say? He narrowed the coordinates when you went in, and he found the warehouse. There’s no cameras on it, but he eliminated all the other possibilities, and then, BINGO. Blackjack. Jackpot. For a smart guy, Ray can be so dumb. He moved into the place so fast he forgot to reprogram the security system inside the building. It was still there after the old tenants moved out, and my oh my, it was open. He got the feeds up. That’s how I identified you, puta. My tech guy saw you go into that office and rescue your friend. I saw it, too.’

Violetta flashed back.

To the blinking light in the office.

To the camera without the blinking light in the connecting hallway.

She took a deep breath and hoped for the best.

He just saw me get Alexis, she thought. He didn’t see what came after.

He doesn’t know.

That’s why he hasn’t killed me yet.

Gates was still talking a million miles an hour. ‘If you wanted me dead, why didn’t the others come? They thought you could do it? They really thought you could take me out?’

Violetta had to know for sure. She acted slow. She made her face fall and said, ‘Wait, you saw me in the office?’

He laughed. ‘Of course! Your boyfriends were off killing everyone in that goddamn warehouse, and you went in to rescue the damsel in distress. It’s sad that they brought you along at all. You’re useless.’

She thought, Am I?

She used her supposed uselessness to feign terror, and he bought it. It seemed to entice him further. He focused more on her and her fear than the gun in his hand.

He took a step toward her, thinking it would drive her backwards. After all he was six-five, taut with muscle, like an aggressive praying mantis, and she was short and toned and half his weight. But his biggest weakness was that he dismissed her solely because she was female. After all, he lived in a world where all he knew about women was what he could sell them for, how he could manipulate them, exploit them, bend them to his will. He was a de facto cult leader in this tiny portion of the underbelly of Vegas.

He’d missed one crucial detail.

She was not an impressionable fifteen-year-old girl.

And she could do far more than untie hostages.

So when she took a step toward him instead of retreating, he didn’t react. He should have backed up in turn, putting space between her and the revolver, but a combination of factors came into play. He thought about seizing hold of her and having his way with her right there — she was gorgeous, after all, and there was no one around to witness it. They were alone in the darkened husk of Wan’s. He thought about pushing her back, demonstrating his dominance. He thought about putting the gun against her head, a colossal power move. She could see it all running through his mind, making him — for a split second — indecisive.

He thought about everything except the right move.

So when she lunged for the gun he didn’t yank his arm back in time.

She did everything right, and he didn’t, which just overcame the considerable height and weight disadvantage. She pivoted as she seized hold of his wrist and threw herself out of the barrel’s trajectory, so she had her back facing him, so they were both wrestling for the gun. He was far