Page 38 of Maximum Bet

Pacing in circles, I work to come up with a better plan. “Can we get maintenance to open the doors a few floors down to see where they’re stuck?”

Leo curses. “Not necessary. The elevator opened on the third floor.”

“Wait. We’re on the second,” Cassandra says.

“They can’t get to you without getting into the security elevator,” I explain, rushing down the hallway toward said elevator.

Lucas and Marco follow behind. Marco instructs his group of men to take care of the bodies and tasks a few others with guarding all entrances on the floor to keep staff from stumbling upon the mess.

Lucas presses his badge on the reader, and the elevator opens before the men have a chance to respond.

“Go to the third floor,” I demand as Lucas pushes the button. “Leo, where are they now?”

“Headed toward the stairs.”

“Shit.” I watch the glowing display of numbers as we descend, shifting from foot to foot. My body hums with the instinct to fight. I’m like a caged animal waiting for the opportunity to pounce.

The doors open on the third floor just as Leo says, “They’re headed down the western staircase.”

“Lucas, go to the first floor and get men in place.” I bark out my order. “Try not to cause a scene. The last thing we need is the gala attendees panicking.”

“Got it.”

Marco and I rush forward, slamming onto the third floor. We turn right, sprinting past a collection of guest rooms.

Guns drawn, we reach the entrance to the stairwell, each perched on one side of the doorway.

“They’re halfway down the stairs,” Leo says. “You’re good to go.”

Marco opens the heavy metal door, and I step through, lining up my sights as I point my weapon down the stairs.

A deep voice yells in Russian, followed by heavy footsteps a floor below.

I don’t have to urge Marco to move. He’s already by my side, chasing our adversaries.

“They’re about to exit onto the first floor,” Leo says.

“Lucas, where are you?” I’m shouting into my earpiece, but I don’t care. The Bratva pricks already know we’re after them.

“Not there yet,” Lucas hisses. “I can’t run guns blazing. There’s people everywhere.”

Marco and I turn the final landing as the door for the bottom floor slams behind the Russians.

“Which way are they headed?” I ask, reaching for the handle, swinging the door wide, and entering an employee hallway.

“Around the corner to your right,” Leo answers. “Be careful, Dominic, they know you’re coming.”

“Hold on.” I press against Marco’s chest as he exits the stairwell, stopping him, and drop my voice. “You go after them. Distract them. I’m going through the theater and will cut them off from the back.”

At Marco’s nod, I sprint to my left, turning a corner and racing toward the backstage entrance. Similar to Il Palazzo’s layout, the employee hallways of Pharaoh’s Temple lead to both the side and back entrances of the theater.

“Lucas, send some guys Dominic’s way,” Leo instructs, his voice starting to crackle as our connection becomes weaker.

“No,” I answer, cognizant of keeping my voice low. “Help Marco. Make them think we’re only coming from one direction.”

“Dominic,” Cassandra pleads. “Don’t do this by yourself.”

“It will take Lucas’s guys too long to find me,” I argue, slipping into the theater. We didn’t open it to guests tonight. We’re saving the reveal of the dinner-theater-style auditorium for the show’s opening night next week.