Instead, Poe grabbed his phone, and slipped out of the circle and into the weeds to do what Gamble had told him to do.
He had to get back to the house.
That was going to take some time since it was a two-mile walk, or run.
He just had to do it carefully and without drawing any attention to himself.
As he slipped through the weeds, what he didn’t know was Gamble was ten feet from him, moving in the opposite direction to get to him.
Only, Poe wasn’t paying attention.
Instead, he was on a mission.
TO SURVIVE.
Meanwhile…
Gamble was a man on a quest.
That was all that mattered.
Gamble was myopically focused on getting to that circle to reach Poe, and he wasn’t letting anything stop him.
Nothing.
At.
All.
When he finally arrived, what he found there surprised him.
There was an unconscious man laying down, face first in the picnic basket.
He had blood on the back of his head, and Gamble saw the empty bottle of really pricy champagne resting not far away. Putting the clues together, he realized what had happened.
Apparently, his man had been right. He had a wicked swing, after all.
To say that he was proud of him would be one hell of an understatement. The love of his life was able to hold his own when need be.
First with the ax back in NOLA, and now here with a champagne bottle.
Good for him.
While the man was still out, Gamble patted him down, and didn’t find any communication equipment. He’d already taken everything off of the other man, so this dude came without any, or Poe had taken care of business again.
All that was left was a single, solitary earbud.
Gamble crushed that between his fingers, making sure no one was hearing or listening to anything again.
Flipping the man over, he took his gun, and he placed his knife above his heart.
“Hey, sunshine. Wake the fuck up,” he said, kicking him with his boot.
When the man woke up, Gamble saw the intent in his eyes.
Someone was pissed.
“Oh, I wish the fuck you would,” he said. “Please. You came here and ruined my picnic. I’ll bleed you out right here.”