Gambling for Ashleigh - E M Hayes

by Police

  He points the gun at the other man's head.

  "Gary—Gary, I promise, I—!"

  I feel, more than hear, the two bullets leave the gun and enter into the man's forehead. The back of his head explodes with a mix of gore, blood, and pieces of bone, and the man crumples brokenly to the ground. I somehow manage to keep my scream from coming out, even though I've bitten hard enough on my hand to make it bleed.

  I just witnessed a murder. A real-life murder. At the back of the Windy Wood Casino.

  Stuff like this isn't supposed to happen in real life, and certainly not to someone like me. Because Ashleigh Chapman never does anything that would put her in harm's way like that. I duck back behind the dumpster and close my eyes as I feel my heart pound in my chest.

  This is a situation that I don't want to get caught up in. I can just go back into the casino and pretend like this never happened. Live my life with the nightmare that I can keep telling myself isn't true.

  Except I keep thinking about the man who died. Does he have a family waiting for him? Is there someone who will miss him now that he's gone? He must have had the same hopes and dreams that everyone else does, right? I feel sick to my stomach, and I am going to hurl.

  Someone just died. I should call the cops. I take out my phone and mean to flip it on, but as soon as I flip on the screen, my phone makes a noise in the now-silent night air.

  For a moment, I freeze, hoping that it was worse in my imagination than it really was. In that moment, I can convince myself that no one heard.

  Except someone did.

  "Who's there?" Gary's voice thunders out in the night air. "What did you see?"

  Like hell I'm going to tell him anything. Can I stay here and be safe? Not do anything? Or...

  "Come out here," Gary says. "Now. There’s no reason to be frightened. Just come out and have a chat with me. Because if you do go to the cops, I will kill you." There's a distinct mechanical sound, like he just cocked the gun.

  I keep remembering the other man's head exploding. That's going to be me if I don't do something.

  I lick my lips and look back to the doors that I just left. I could try to find a crowd inside where I can blend in. That is, if the killer doesn't see me before.

  It's certainly safer than coming up face to face with him out here. I give myself to the count of three before I start running, to drum up the courage needed.

  I can do this. I can survive...

  Three...

  "Come out now," Gary snarls. "Before I lose my cool."

  Two...

  "Three," Gary says, mirroring my own countdown.

  One...

  "Two..."

  Go!

  I suck in a deep breath and then sprint for the door.

  "Fuck!" Gary calls behind me, and I hear the whir of a bullet as it sails by my head. Too close for comfort. But not too far away from me.

  I get to the door and throw it open—oh, thank God, it opens!—and it silhouettes me in light, illuminating everything about me for him. Shit, if he's close enough, he can know what I look like. And I know that my long, platinum blond hair will make me stand out inside.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  I enter the door and slam it shut behind me. I throw home the deadbolt just in time for it to shake. Because he's trying to follow me back into the casino.

  Because I saw him commit murder.

  “I saw you,” he says behind the door, his voice muffled. “I saw you. And if you go to the cops, I will kill you!”

  It's a good thing I went to the bathroom before this. Otherwise, I would have pissed myself out of fear. Is the gunman going to try to shoot through the door? Will he risk doing something like that?

  I start to run into the casino, looking around frantically.

  Where's the nearest entrance for him? How the hell am I going to get out of here?

  And, furthermore, how can I stay safe if he knows what I look like?

  Callum

  If there's one thing I've learned being a professional gambler, it's that no two days at the tables are the same. There's always someone who tries to scam you out of money or someone who tries to cheat. You have to be on your toes and vigilant if you ever want to make money at this.

  And just when I think I have it down, something else unexpected happens and I lose again. It's those rare occasions when I hit it big that I'm actually able to keep myself afloat financially.

  Tonight is not one of those times.

  I count the money in my billfold. I'm down thirty bucks from when I started. It could be worse. Honestly, when that pretty woman came down and sat next to me, I thought she was playing me for a fool and trying to get drinks off me. No one is that clueless about gambling and blackjack. No one who would come to a casino, anyway. But the more I watched her, the more I realized that she was in way over her head at the tables.

  And yet, she kept winning.

  I snicker to myself and shake my head as I pocket my billfold. It would be a great night to go to the bar and just drown away my sorrows. I'm a part of the casino's rewards program, where I get free meals and perks here, so I can use one of my rewards like a night in the hotel here. Lord knows I don't want to go home to my empty house.

  I shiver and steer my thoughts back to the night's events.

  I hadn't expected much out of Ashleigh, that's for sure. Despite myself, I realized early on that she was good company. And she was able to make me smile, even when I didn’t want to. That's the sign of someone who can bring out the best in people.

  I hadn't realized there was anything left inside me to be considered "best."

  I make my way to one of the casino's five bars, where they're playing some international game of rugby on the television screens. If I wanted to, I could place a bet on the team and see how it shakes out. My skills aren't in betting—they're in playing Texas Hold 'Em, which is my usual choice for a night at the casino. I don’t usually go to the blackjack tables, but something told me to tonight.

  And regardless of having lost money, a part of me is glad that I went to the blackjack tables, or I would have never met Ashleigh. I remember her blond hair, so light it appeared to be almost white in the dim casino light. I remember her blue eyes. The way she laughed even as she lost a hand. How damn smart she is.

  It was a refreshing change of pace for me; however, now that I'm back to being alone, my thoughts keep drifting toward miserable things. My body begs me for something to drink. Even though it’s not beer.

  I head to the bar, not intending to get alcohol—I stopped drinking the stuff years ago—when someone runs into me and practically bounces off. I'm a big man, and the woman who just tried to barrel me over doesn't even reach my shoulders. I reach out to steady her and then realize that I recognize this woman.

  "Ashleigh?"

  The same woman that I thought left over twenty minutes ago. The joy and exuberance that had been there when she was playing at the table are gone, replaced by...terror?

  Immediately, I go on high alert. Ashleigh's eyes are so wide, I can see the white all around her pupils, her breathing is harsh and labored, and she looks as though she's seen a ghost.

  There are no ghosts here. Only the deaths of dreams. Even then, I can tell that's not what happened.

  "What’s wrong?" I ask her, and she tries to wrench herself out of my grasp, as though she's trying to flee. I hold her steady, not trying to be menacing or anything, but because I'm genuinely concerned for her well-being at the moment.

  She licks her lips and averts her eyes. "Nuh—nothing," she stammers.

  Bullshit, it's nothing. She honestly looks like she's scared for her life. I see that she has blood on her hand, although I can’t tell what it is. Looks like a bite mark?

  I frown. "You can tell me," I say, trying to be gentle because there's this overwhelming sense of trying to keep her safe taking over me. I lean down to look into her eyes that she keeps darting away. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ashleigh."

  Her lip
quivers at that before she forces a smile. "Right. Thank you. I'm fine." She manages to shrug off my hands on her shoulders. "Just point me to the exit, and I'll be fine."

  The overprotectiveness that's roaring inside my brain threatens to sweep her up in my arms and take her away from everything, to a place where she feels safe. But I realize that would be crazy—I've only just met her, and she's not my problem. After all, she'd do well to stay away from me.

  So I swallow and nod. "Closest one is that way. Do you need a ride or anything?"

  She shakes her head and backs up. "No. No, thank you. I'm fine. My car’s here. I just need to leave. Now."

  And she turns and practically flees from me, running away in those skin-tight jeans of hers. There's a part of me that wants to stand by and watch as her hips sway while she rushes away. And there's another part of me that is saying to follow her. To get caught up with her.

  I need to not to do that. Ashleigh would be happier without a loser like me.

  But at least I'm able to offer help in some way. I've told her how to get out of the Windy Wood Casino. Score one point for Callum Young. That puts me at something like a negative sixty-five thousand if I count all my debts.

  "I really wish I could drink," I mutter to myself as I settle down at the bar, ready to drown my sorrows with a glass of sweet tea instead. I will probably use one of those free hotel nights of mine, just because I'm not feeling up for the drive home. I just want to sit down and forget that I ever met a beautiful woman named Ashleigh Chapman tonight.

  What the hell happened to her? The difference between when I last saw her at the cashier's desk and when I bumped into her just now was night and day. Maybe I should call the cops. Or maybe...

  "What'll it be?" the bartender asks me as he dries a glass with a dish towel.

  "Sweet tea," I tell him gruffly. He nods and sets down a glass of it without question, as this isn't my first time ordering from him. I should probably learn the man's name, but here I am, drinking at a casino bar—no one wants to be my friend. This is a place where people drink solo. And it’s also a place where alcoholics order non-alcoholic drinks.

  Except, as I pick up the glass to drink from it, there's a presence at my side. Yet another one that I recognize, and it's not Ashleigh.

  "Look who's here." Shit, his breath smells even worse tonight than usual. "Busy not getting me my money?"

  I turn my head just in time to see Gary O'Shea take the seat next to me. Every time I see him, he looks the worse for wear, like he's drinking too much or not taking care of himself. And every time I see him, the hair on the back of my neck raises in alarm. Despite his out-of-shape, country-boy appearance, Gary is a dangerous man. And just seeing him here is a reminder of people that I shouldn't get caught up with.

  Too late for me, though.

  He's out of breath like he's been running, and his eyes keep darting around as if he's looking for someone. Hopefully not Ashleigh.

  And now he wants something out of me, so he’s playing it cool.

  I give him a blithe smile. "I still have a month on that next payment." I put the glass to my lips. "You'll get your money." Asshole.

  "With interest." His beady eyes gleam, reminding me of a shark. Appropriate, since the man at my side is a loan shark.

  "Of course," I say with a nod. Why else would he loan me money? I’ll have to dig into Samantha's trust account for the funds, as this past month hasn't been kind to me with gambling. But what else is new in my life?

  Perhaps a beautiful woman that I should have helped? I push the thought from my mind. Whatever frightened her, it's a good thing that she's far, far away from anything else.

  "Get me a Shiner," Gary tells the bartender as he slaps a ten-dollar bill on the counter. "I'll get his drink as well. Even though he’s no fun anymore." He thrusts a thumb in my direction.

  That means he wants something from me. Shit.

  I wait to see where this is going, every nerve ending down my spine on high alert. The bartender puts the drink down and starts to move away. Gary picks it up and inspects it like it's the most exciting thing he's seen all night. "Say, Callum," he drawls like he's not trying to be the suspicious asshole that he is. "You wouldn't have happened to have seen a woman here tonight, would you?"

  I go rigid at his question. Because, if he means Ashleigh, then...

  No, it can't be. He must mean someone else.

  After all, this is her first night here.

  I manage to calm myself long enough to give a casual shrug. "There are lots of women here every night that I see." Hopefully, that didn't sound suspicious at all.

  "Oh, you would have noticed this one," Gary says. He holds his hand out to his side, to indicate a height about five and a half feet from the ground. "Pretty little thing about yay high. Long, blond hair. Almost white." I keep my composure and shrug as I take another swig of my Shiner. He frowns at me. "Sure you didn't see her?"

  "Nope," I say. To my credit, my tone is even and calm. "You're right, though, I would have noticed her."

  He scrutinizes me for a long moment, his eyes narrowed. "Yes," he agrees as he sits back and drinks again. "Kind of hard to miss that one."

  "Why are you interested in her?" I find myself asking. Shit, I may have crossed the line with that question. "Did she make a horrible mistake and borrow some money from you? Like I did?"

  Gary chuckles mirthlessly. "No, no, nothing like that." He considers his drink for a long moment before taking another sip out of it. "But I am interested in finding her. And finding anything about her."

  "Why?"

  He turns sharply to me. "Why do you ask?"

  "No reason." I maybe act like I'm blowing it off too quickly and too easily, and I try to recover from that. "Just curious."

  I used to think that Gary wasn't too bright. That he got into being a loan shark because he has more brawns than brains. But I underestimated him a long time ago. And that's why I owe him money. Or else he'd take everything I own and then some. I wouldn't put it past him to put a bullet in my skull if he thought that would benefit him. The thing is, Gary has no scruples when it comes to murder and ethics. And he's smart enough to cover up his tracks.

  He watches me with more intensity now. I fight the urge to avert my eyes or otherwise look nervous. "Say," he says at length, "if you do by chance bump into a girl like that, can you let me know? In fact, if you do, I'll consider your debt paid off to me."

  I raise an eyebrow. I've never heard Gary O'Shea make a promise like that. Ever. Because people like Gary O'Shea don't have hearts. They have a means to an end.

  And perhaps whatever he wants from Ashleigh is worth more than the sixty-five grand I owe Gary.

  "That's a generous offer," I say.

  "It's a real one," he says sharply, leaning into me. "Give me any information about the girl, and I'll wipe your slate clean."

  "What did she do?" I ask him. It's an innocent enough question, but I can see it raises his hackles.

  "She just stuck her nose where she doesn't belong, that's all." He holds up a finger to me. "Do this. And don’t go to the cops, or there will be consequences. For both of you."

  Consequences from Gary O’Shea can range anywhere from kneecaps being shot out to cold-blooded murder. And that’s if you don’t have a family.

  I give a slow nod. "Sure."

  He claps me on the back, and while it doesn't necessarily hurt or make me cough, it does show how strong the man is when he wants to be. "I'm going to ask Chuck if he's got anything on her. Who knows, maybe security footage has her on it."

  He means Chuck Rynder. The head of security here at Windy Wood. I'm familiar with the guy as he's thrown me out once or twice when I got too drunk and rowdy. Nothing escapes Chuck's eye. Nothing. And if Ashleigh does pull up on the security footage, then she's as good as being in Gary's clutches.

  "Well, I hope he doesn't have anything," I say mildly. "Because then I won't have my loan cleared from you."

  This causes G
ary to laugh loudly and obnoxiously. He throws his head back and roars with it as if he thinks it's the funniest thing in the world. "I like you." He waggles his finger at me. "I can see why I kept you around for so long."

  I give him a tight smile as he gets up from his stool and starts to walk away, taking his beer with him. I watch him for a long moment, waiting to see if he'll turn back or want anything else from me.

  When he disappears behind a row of slot machines, I get up from my seat. Looks like I'm not going to have a room here tonight. Because I have one thing on my mind tonight.

  And that's protecting Ashleigh.

  Callum

  I pace my living room, back and forth, back and forth, debating on the right course of action. I keep trying to tell myself to stay far away from this, that there's nothing for me to do. Whatever it is that Ashleigh did, it's on her, and there's nothing that I can do to save her from Gary. That's what I tell myself, at least.

  On the other hand, that overprotective part of me wants to take over. It also happens to be the same part of me that finds her bewitchingly attractive. And I know that she's in danger if I don't do anything.

  It's five in the morning when I finally make my decision and call my old contacts back at SAPD. I know I'm not supposed to really reach out to them in this way. Or really even speak to them at all. It's not like we parted on good terms.

  That's what happens when your wife dies, and you go hide in the bottom of a bottle. You let everyone down, including your old partner and the precinct.

  The phone picks up, and I hear a familiar voice. And he's definitely annoyed that I've called him so early.

  "Cal?" Quint Axton asks. "What the hell? What time is it?"

  "Sorry to wake you up," I mutter as I comb a hand through my hair.

  "You're lucky you didn't wake Corrie," he says. "She’s a light sleeper and she'd have my balls in a vice if you did."

  I sigh and close my eyes. Of course. I forgot that Quint is living out his happily ever after with the love of his life. "How is life treating you?"