The Reed Montgomery Series Box Set
Page 51
He mashed the button for the fiftieth floor and adjusted his tie. There was no one else in the elevator. In fact, at three in the morning, there were very few people inside the skyscraper at all. Cleaning crews and security guards owned the hallways, lending a haunted aura to the giant building.
As each floor ticked by, Gambit fingered the sleeve of his customer-tailored suit and reviewed what he planned to say. Would it be best to lead with the Montgomery situation or discuss Governor Trousdale? He wanted to remain in control of the conversation—provide solutions, not problems. In his line of work, he found that people who provided problems found themselves out of a job, if they were lucky. The unlucky ones wound up six feet under.
The bell dinged, and the gold doors of the elevator rolled back. Gambit straightened his back. He screwed up, and he wasn’t going to deny that. Now he had to fix it.
Scarlet carpet lined the hallway. Gambit had traveled this path a thousand times, so much so that it felt more like home than his own penthouse. And yet, the grandeur of the fiftieth-floor suite still made him question his belonging. It was imposter syndrome at its worst. Gambit placed his hand on the gold handle, cleared his throat, and pushed inside.
The suite, complete with the scent of lavender and vanilla, was expansive, filling half of the fiftieth floor. Massive windows looked southward toward the heart of downtown. A mini bar sat on one side of the room, and a massive executive desk on the other. Filling the space in between were lounge chairs and a chess table with ivory pieces standing five inches tall. Everything was posh, expensive, and reflected the finest tastes of the man who stood facing the skyline with his back to Gambit. The door slid shut automatically, leaving Gambit standing in the relaxing darkness of the room.
“It’s bad, isn’t it?” The man standing in front of the glass didn’t turn around. Hands folded behind his back, he spoke with perfect calm. His voice carried no edge, no tone, but Gambit knew the power hidden beneath the practiced posture. The venom.
“It’s not good,” Gambit said. “Things went sideways in Nashville.”
“Why the hell was anything happening in Nashville?”
Gambit spoke with confidence. “It was Salvador, the man I hired to take care of Mitch Holiday. He made a mess.”
“Sounds like it. I’ve read the news.”
Gambit refused to hesitate or display any signs of the anxiety that plagued him. “I’m still collecting intel, but it appears there was a confrontation.”
“A confrontation? Is that what you call a multi-gunman slaughter? They killed at least two cops. Montgomery got away. And then there’s this Wolf. Somebody Salvador hired, I take it?”
“Yes. Salvador got sloppy. I take full responsibility and will ensure that he is removed from the equation.”
The man at the window turned around, his hands still folded behind him. He was shorter than average, but with the moon at his back, his appearance was altogether impending. Greying black hair was swept behind large ears, with deep, penetrating eyes the hallmark of his face. He settled down behind the desk before motioning to the minibar. “Whiskey . . . on ice. Fix yourself something.”
Gambit hurried to prepare the drink, splashing three fingers of bourbon into a glass for himself. He handed his employer the decanter, then took a seat.
His boss took a long sip of the whiskey. “Salvador is already out of the equation.”
Gambit frowned. “How do you know?”
“Because Montgomery escaped. He wouldn’t have left Salvador alive—not after all the chaos that fool caused. Our priority now is damage control. We’re making entirely too much noise. There’s already an FBI agent sniffing around—the guy who was hounding Holiday. We’ve got a rogue killer on our hands, and Montgomery needs to be on ice, immediately, along with anyone working with him.”
“I’ll take care of it . . . personally.”
“I know you will.” The man took a sip of whiskey and met Gambit’s gaze. There was ice in his stare—a chill that turned Gambit’s stomach.
Gambit coughed and took a swallow of whiskey. “There’s another issue. Governor Trousdale. She’s going to be a problem.”
“I thought you spoke with her.”
Gambit nodded. “I did. I leaned on her pretty hard, but she’s not budging. She’s got this crusade against corruption. It’s her whole campaign promise. I think she actually believes in it.”
“You know how this game is played. Doesn’t she have a family?”
“I tried.” Gambit set the glass on the table. “I really think the harder we lean on her, the more she’s going to fight back. She needs to be taken out, promptly, before she causes any more noise.”
“You want to assassinate the governor of Louisiana?”
“We already sent a gunman after her.”
“A gunman who was never meant to kill her. The plan all along was to cap a couple of her guards, rattle her, and make her more susceptible to your negotiations.”
“I know. That backfired, though. She’s a fighter, tooth and nail, and I don’t think we can break her.”
The silver-haired man stared at Gambit a moment, then stood up and gestured toward the chess table. Gambit followed him, feeling the knots in his stomach constrict. He stopped a couple feet away and watched as his boss lifted the white queen and traced the delicate outlines of each carving.
“Stephen, why do I call you Gambit?”
Gambit shifted, then cleared his throat. “Because that’s my job. To take risks, implement deceit, and make things happen.”
“That’s right. And for fifteen years, you’ve been my most indispensable piece. Honestly, Stephen, this company would not be what it is today without your brilliance, dedication, and ferocity. Your hard work is appreciated more than you’ll ever know.”
Gambit glanced at the floor. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
For a moment the silence hung in the air, while the man gently stroked the queen, scraping his thumbnail over the polished ivory. “The funny thing is, Stephen, that a fifteen-year career full of highlights and trophies can be undone in a matter of seconds. Just a few critical mistakes. This company is a tower built on a delicate foundation—a foundation that depends on every piece.”
Gambit felt claws of ice dig into his soul. He remained frozen, rooted to the floor, staring at the chess board. Waiting for the next words.
The silver-haired man cleared his throat and set the queen down abruptly. It clicked against the marble chess board.
“I don’t want you wasting time lamenting the things you can’t change. I want you to do what you do best—make problems go away. If you tell me Governor Trousdale is an irreparable liability, then I trust your judgment. Erase the liability.”
“Of course. I’ll just need to find a way to keep it out of the headlines.”
“She’s the governor of Louisiana, Stephen. It’s going to make headlines. May I make a suggestion?”
Gambit nodded hastily. “Of course.”
His boss crossed his arms. “Montgomery is a wanted man suspected of killing a state senator. One could presume that he has a penchant for killing politicians. Perhaps that is because of his bad experiences in the Iraq war. Who knows? Why not use one liability against the other, and kill two birds with one stone?”
Gambit frowned. “You want me to pin the murder of Governor Trousdale on Montgomery?”
“No, I want you to have Montgomery kill her himself, and then make sure the FBI finds out about it.”
“Montgomery has already proven himself to be impossible to manage. Salvador attempted to manipulate him by kidnapping Holiday’s goddaughter, and it all blew up. I don’t think we can force him to kill anyone.”
Gambit’s boss lifted the black king off the chess board and set it in the middle. Slowly, he began to rearrange the white pieces, aligning them around the black king. “Stephen, I shouldn’t have to tell you this. Everything is a matter of positioning. You place your subject alone”—he adjusted the black king in the
center of the board, then placed a white rook within striking distance and a knight blocking the retreat—“then you surround him. Give him no other way out. Salvador screwed up because Salvador grabbed a tiger by the tail. You’re never going to get that close. Drive Montgomery into a corner, and then open up a single route of escape—over Governor Trousdale’s dead body. Don’t tell him what to do. Just leave him no other option.”
Gambit’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Do I use the girl?”
“No. You’ll need more than that. Something that reaches deeper into his psyche, all the way back to his earliest memories.”
Gambit tilted his head, and slowly, a smile spread across his face.
The silver-haired man thumped the black king, knocking it over. “Stephen, it’s time we reconnect with an old friend. It’s time we brought David Montgomery out of retirement.”
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Also by Logan Ryles
The Reed Montgomery Series
Prequel: Sandbox, a short story (read for free at LoganRyles.com)
Book 1: Overwatch
Book 2: Hunt to Kill
Book 3: Total War
Book 4: Smoke & Mirrors (coming Winter, 2020)
Visit LoganRyles.com to receive a free copy of Sandbox.
About the Author
Logan Ryles is the author of the action-thriller Reed Montgomery series. Originally from Alabama, he now lives with his wife in Nashville, Tennessee. You can learn more about Logan’s books, sign up for email updates, and connect with him directly by visiting LoganRyles.com.
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