Cold Hearted Bastard (Underworld Kings)

With steely reserve, I’d do what I had to, like I’d always done.

I’d fight for my life, and Arlo was now firmly embedded in it.

I’d fight to the death for both of us if need be.

24

Galina

The night seemed colder than it should for this time of year, or maybe it was the worst fear I’d ever felt in my life taking hold.

I’d been standing outside the back door of this broken casino for a long moment, my back against the brick, my breathing so fast and erratic I feared someone passing by would hear.

The sound of music blaring in the distance, the screeching laughter of a woman far too close for comfort, the crash of glass breaking, and an array of other obnoxious noises filtered through the night and tried to pull my concentration in twenty different directions.

The man you love is in there fighting for you. Go in there and stand by his side.

He’d hate it, be pissed at me. But I didn’t care. Not right now, not when doing nothing wasn’t an option.

With one more steadying breath, I pushed away from the wall, drawing up all the calm concentration I could muster, and reached for the back door I’d seen Arlo step through.

I curled my hand around the handle and pulled it open, the metal giving a loud creak, which had me freezing and my breath stalling in my lungs, my heart in my throat as I prayed to whoever was willing to listen that no one heard. After a second where no one came rushing toward me with their gun raised, I stepped inside.

I shut the door as quietly as I could behind me, the scent of mold and age tickling my nose in an uncomfortable way. The back room I stepped into had boxes pushed against the walls on either side of me. Trash littered the floor, grime and dirt everywhere. The ceiling looked like it was ready to cave in, bowing in one corner, the rest of the once-white paneling showing water damage that created large brown and yellow circles above my head.

I could hear muffled voices coming through the closed door in front of me, and I quietly made my way toward it, gripped the handle, and pulled it open. I immediately scented cigar smoke, but it couldn’t mask the stench of heavy mold and decay thick in the air.

When I stepped out into the small hallway, I followed the muted light that came from my left, which was also where the voices filtered from. I was surprised I wasn’t shaking, my hands steady, my finger running slowly over the gun as if a reminder of what I’d have to do. Because there was no doubt in my mind I’d have to use it on somebody to protect myself and Arlo.

I stopped before I got to the edge of the hallway that opened into the main part of the building, and looked around the side, taking in the large room that had clearly once been the main casino. Broken-down and half-taken-apart slot machines were pushed up against walls.

I could see a blackjack table with torn and stained felt laying on its side on the ground and to the left. There was one window beside the front doors, the glass painted black, a piece of cardboard taped in the corner, presumably to cover up a hole.

And then my heart jumped into my throat when I spotted where the men were, where the voices came from, and how Arlo stood behind Henry with a gun pointed at the back of his head. There were only two other men seated at the card table, one on each side of Henry, both looking ready to shit themselves.

Arlo had his other hand up, another gun pointed at one of the men.

“Go ahead,” Arlo said calmly as he looked at the man who sat to his right, the only one who didn’t have a gun pointed to a skull. “Reach for it, grab your weapon, and we’ll see how fast you are.” Arlo slowly grinned, and it was a smile I’d never seen before. It was absolutely terrifying. “You’re all gambling men here. Want to place a wager that I can put a bullet in all three of your skulls before you even draw?”

A thick moment of silence passed where no one spoke. I don’t even think they breathed.

The man sat stiffly in his chair as he stared at Arlo. There was no doubt in my mind, given his expression, that he wouldn't be taking on that bet.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Henry had the balls to say.

Arlo chuckled softly, but there was nothing humorous about it. It was dark and insidious, as if it was a precursor to all the “mistakes” that would come. “Is that so? You’re some big shot, huh?”