Page 36 of Maximum Bet

In my ear, Leo says, “They’re up to the thirteenth, looking for the security elevator bank.”

Lucas turns left. “I’m meeting more of our guys near the west stairs. We’re headed up.”

“Leo, did you hear that?” Marco asks.

“Yep. Lucas, I’ll keep you updated on where they are in relation to your group.”

Marco parts ways, taking one soldier with him, with plans to meet more in the east stairwell.

“The enemy split up,” Leo says. “Bratva guys are headed to the east side of the floor, Medina guys are scouring the laundry room.”

Shit. They’re getting close.

“Lucas, get your guys to the laundry room first,” I instruct. Our elevator bank is between the laundry and the housekeeping supply room.

“Wait.” Cassandra’s voice breaks through our chatter. “Don’t they need a badge with a security pass to get into and on the security elevators?”

“Technically,” Leo says. “But I wouldn’t put it past them to have procured a badge. The Kozlovas and Medinas usually prepare.”

“Can you stop the elevator?” Cassandra asks.

“We could . . .” Leo trails off. “Dominic?”

“Let me get up there first.” I wave my group of four forward and swipe my key card to open the elevator bank doors. “Marco?” I ask.

“I’m headed up. Once the Bratva bastards figure out what’s going on, they will try to escape.” My brother isn’t always thesharpest, but when it comes to battle, he’s the best general I know.

“See you upstairs,” I say and jump in the lift with my handpicked soldiers. I hit the button for the thirteenth floor and adjust my gun, aiming to fire as soon as the doors open.

“I’ll go first,” I instruct my men. “We’ll split. Two of you come out on the left, the other two follow me on the right.”

When the elevator opens, we step forward, guns drawn. I carefully twist the handle of the elevator bank doors, then we wait, poised and ready. When nothing happens, I motion for the men to follow me into a short hallway that leads to the main thoroughfare of the thirteenth floor.

“Dominic, the Medina men are about to leave the laundry room. Lucas is in the west stairwell, ready to go. Marco and his team are a few floors down on the east stairwell,” Leo says.

“Tell me which direction the Medina assholes go when they leave the laundry room.”

“They’re leaving now.” Leo pauses. I hear a door open around the corner. “They’re turning your way.”

I lift my hand, communicating with my men to wait. If our aim is on point, this fight will end before it’s even started.

Footsteps follow the closing of the laundry room door. I crouch low so the soldier behind me can aim. A hushed conversation in Spanish echoes off the stark white walls.

“Ten feet away,” Leo says.

My men and I shift, setting our sights and placing our fingers on the triggers of our guns.

The first thing I see is a leather shoe, then navy suit pants, followed by the torso of my target.

I shoot before the man has a moment to react. The bullet slides through his ribcage, and his face registers horrified shock before his body slumps onto his partner.

“¡Joder!” The second Medina accomplice shuffles backward, using his friend’s body as a shield.

My soldier across the small hallway steps forward and fires. “Fuck,” he curses as his bullet misses the target, hitting the dead man in the head.

The Medina associate scrambles to lift his weapon while struggling with his friend’s body.

Another one of my men steps forward and fires.