'The Card Players'

Gideon's POV

I could hear distant voices from outside, one of them I was sure was Hudson's.

“That's final, Miss York. The HR has wired your severance payment to your account.”

My jaw clenched as I checked my wristwatch.

This bastard knew how much I hated waiting ye...

And did he just say Miss York?

A soothing feminine voice sounded, and for some reason the temperature in the room became cooler.

The tightness in my chest eased up too.

Khristos -Christ-. She was here.

I made to get up and check, just to be sure she was the one, but the voices stopped and the door opened with a quiet creak.

The moment he walked in, my grip on the arm of the swivel chair tightened.

When he paused, my ear perked up as if high on alert, like the deafening silence between the second a trigger is pulled before it fires at the target.

“I see you're changed. Those clothes didn't suit you anyway.” Hudson's gruff voice sounded a bit too sarcastic for my liking.

I released the arm of the chair slowly before I felt for my revolver in my belt.

I might not need it, but the satisfaction of having it was out of this world.

I learned early in life that those who lived by the gun died by it.

Survival is a gamble, bidding for your time in this world despite the inevitable -death-

I knew I was a walking time bomb, and before I got ticked out of time, I intended to settle scores with people like Hudson.

“Didn't I order for her not to be let into the building?” I asked.

He started,

“Regardless, she was one of the esteemed member of our hospital staffs.”

“Being fired like this? She should at least get her letter in person, or people would start talking.”

Another silence stretched between us as I didn't feel him move.

“Why don't you come take a fucking seat, and let's get to it?” I asked, my tone flat.

He took one step after another, reluctantly settling in his chair with his eyes fixated on me, like he was calculating our time together.

When our eyes met, his shoulders stiffened.

“Shit, Ferrari, don’t give me that look. Whatever Vincent told you is not the whole truth.” He said, beads of sweat gathering on his plump forehead.

While I knew my reputation in the underworld preceded me or anyone's audacity to rival me, I knew Hudson had connections too.

Strong ones.

He was a clean slate to the public.

Noble. Dignified. Had clean records. The exact prey or tool, in this case, made men needed to wield their power through legal means.

From being the boss for the legal fronts of their illegal dealings to the director of a well-reputable hospital where money laundering was…

Drifting away from my thoughts, I said.

“And I hope the snitch that gave you that information also told you why I've been camping here for the past few weeks.”

Scratching the back of his neck, he took out a glass and then placed it near a half bottle of whiskey in front of me.

“A drink?” He asked, and my stare hardened.

He frowned,

“Maybe not.”

Pouring himself one, he took a big gulp before clearing his throat,

“See, man, I don't know what you have against that poor girl but it's going to look fishy if you keep making me put people out of their jobs.”

Making an attempt to retrieve the revolver from my belt, I sat up.

“The more you waste my time, the closer you get to 6 ft beneath the ground.”

Mouthing ‘Shit’ he pushed his drink aside,

“Relax, man, put it back.” .

My grip on the metal tightened as I watched him gesture towards the surroundings.

“This is a medical facility filled with patients. How's it going to look if an ex-patient fired at the director?” He asked.

His tone sounded threatening rather than practical.

Staring daggers at him, I take my hand off my revolver.

This fucking bastard.

He thought I was stupid enough to blow his brains out right in the middle of my own establishment.

One that was made with the blood and sweat of me and my partner.

I'd never trade his sacrifice for anything in the world. Even my life.

I lived for him and my promise to him.

If Hudson wanted to be a thorn in my flesh, I'd best deal with him the civil way.

Calming myself, I looked around, then spotted a painting of ‘The Card Players’

Gesturing at it, I said,

“And what would those nice people outside think of you if they found out you were gifted this painting for your birthday by none other than the Bratva?”

He knew my weakness was blowing my cover.

Fortunately, I also knew his. Tainting his big fat reputation.

I looked back at him, my lips twisting in satisfaction as his face paled.

Tapping my fingers on my stubble, my brows folded.

“Hmmm, Hud, should I tell you what happens next?”

He clicked his teeth, roughly freeing his tie from his collar.

“I didn't give those riffraffs the pass to block Vincent’s shipment. They just fought their way in.” He revealed.

Leaning forward, my brow arched,

“And how am I supposed to believe that. With no damn evidence.”

He hissed under his breath as he ransacked for a nonexistent file.

I could tell by how his fingers trembled as it flew through the files that he intended to improvise.

“I swear I had it here.” He muttered.

Getting to my feet, I spread my hands, one of each at the edge of his desk, staring down at him.

“Twenty-four hours. Provide the blueprints of my building and the evidence that you blocked out the attack.”

“I don't think you'd like what I'd do to you if you wait to find out.” I threatened, moving towards the door.

Hudson started,

“It's so disappointing that after everything I've been through as the front man, you still don't trust me."

"I mean, I carry all the legal weight and risk…

“Risks you're being paid for." I cut him off.

"You put your ass on the line as you should.” I reminded him as my hand covered the doorknob.

“And I'll tell you this for free, Hud.”

Sweeping my tongue across my teeth, I said.

“Don't think I won't make every cent of my money count because I went off the radar.”

“Am I understood?” I asked…

Hesitation stretched the room before he answered.

“Yeah, man.”

Turning around, I gave him one last cold stare.

“Shit, I mean, ye.. yes sir.” He stuttered before I disappeared through the door.

The second I stepped out of the building, Maxwell walked up to me, giving a swift bow before extending my phone.

“You've got a call, boss.”

I walked past him without taking the phone while he ran ahead to open the Rolls-Royce door for me.

Breezing into the backseat, I dipped my hand into my breast pocket taking out my whiskey flask.

Sipping it, I asked

“Is it important?”

He gave a curt nod.

Eyeing him, I took the phone, and suddenly a sour taste exploded in my mouth as his name appeared on the screen.

Zack. This fucker.