Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Vegas at three a.m. is very different from the Vegas a few hours prior. Don’t get me wrong. There are still people hanging around, the noise of the slot machines continues to slowly grate on your nerves, and the smell of alcohol, weed, and cigarette smoke lingers everywhere.
I think this is Vegas at its seediest. Hookers are out on the prowl, hoping to get their last client of the night.
There’re people passed out drunk or just asleep in the most random places.
And every man I walk past gives me the damn creeps.
I don’t know why I came down to the casino floor. I couldn’t sleep and got bored.
I didn’t want to wake up Rachel, who is sharing the suite with me.
And Charlotte got out of the hospital a couple of days ago, not that I could disturb her without her husband shooting me first. Which is how I ended up here.
Walking aimlessly. I find an empty sofa and sit down. The moment I do, a waitress comes over.
“Ma’am. Do you need anything?” she asks.
“No, thank you. I’m good.” I smile and watch as she walks away. I know I’m supposed to order a drink or something to use these lounges, but it’s not like there’re a lot of people waiting for one to become available.
My phone buzzes with a text message. I roll my eyes, tempted to ignore it. But if I do that, he’ll end up calling or sending one of his henchmen to find me. Emmanuel is persistent as hell.
Cabrón:
What are you doing walking around by yourself?
I look up and search the room for him. He’s not here. I know that. He’s in Mexico. But he has people everywhere—his words.
Me:
Stop creeping on me.
Cabrón:
What’s wrong? Why are you down there and not in the suite?
Me:
Because I can be.
Cabrón:
Mi alma, I’d prefer you go back upstairs.
Me:
And I’d prefer you leave me alone and forget you ever met me. We don’t always get what we want.
Cabrón:
I always get what I want.
I roll my eyes again. The man is insufferable.
Me:
What are you doing? Other than stalking women?
Cabrón:
Women would suggest there is more than one. There is only you, mi alma. One woman who I’m keeping my eye on.
Me:
What did you do today?
Our conversations always start out with me telling him to fuck off, him not doing what I want, and then they always have a way of turning into something more real. I don’t hate it. Which I hate.
I’ve slept once since he’s been gone, once in an entire week.
But he seems to always know when I’m bored, or when I just need something to occupy my mind.
The few times I’ve tried to ignore his messages, one of his lackeys has turned up, holding out a phone to me with a pleading look on their face.
Like their life depended on me taking that call.
Cabrón:
I bought a house. You’d like it.
Me:
Where is it?
Cabrón:
I’ll show you one day soon. What did you get up to today?
Me:
I baked a cake. You’ll love it. I put extra arsenic in the batter.
Cabrón:
I’d still eat it because you made it.
Me:
That’s really messed up, E.
Cabrón:
How is Charlotte?
Me:
Getting better. I think I’m going home in a couple of days. I can’t stay here. Amy is struggling at the store.
Cabrón:
When you’re ready to go, let me know. I’ll have the jet take you.
Me:
I’m not flying on your jet.
Cabrón:
Yes, you are.
Me:
You can’t make me.
Cabrón:
I will cause air traffic to shut down if you try to fly commercial.
I laugh. There’s no way he can do that. Can he? Then again, he did get them to turn my plane around while it was taxiing. I wouldn’t put it past him.
Me:
Fine, but I’m bringing Rachel with me.
Cabrón:
You can bring whomever you want.
Me:
Really? Anyone, because I met a guy today. He was super cute. He’d fit right in too. A genuine southern boy.
Three seconds after I’ve hit send on that message, my phone lights up, the name Cabrón flashing across the screen. “Yeah?”
“Evie, that sleepy little country town you’re from will be decimated if you so much as let another man lay a finger on you.”
“Emmanuel, shut up. You’re being ridiculous.” I close my eyes and throw my head back, resting it on the sofa.
“I’m deadly serious, mi alma. No one is going to touch you ever again. No one who isn’t me.”
“You’re not touching me again either.” I sigh. “That was a onetime thing.”
“Keep telling yourself that, and you might even believe it one day. But we both know what we did, and it’s way too fucking good not to do it again.”
“Isn’t there some hot Mexican woman you can be bothering instead of me?”
“Do you really want that? For me to go and randomly fuck some woman here?” he asks.
I sigh. I want to say yes. I want to tell him I don’t care who he fucks. But what if he calls me on my bluff and does just that?
No, I want that. Don’t I?
“I don’t know what I want,” I admit.
“I know what you want, mi alma, and I’m going to remind you every day,” he says.
“You will tire of me soon, E,” I tell him, because he will. Either that or he will notice just how broken and ugly I really am. As soon as that happens, he won’t want a single thing to do with me.
“I’m going to have the jet ready to take you home tomorrow night, Evie. I think it’ll be good for you to get out of Vegas, get back to your store,” Emmanuel says.
I do need to work. “Thank you. Wait… Will you be on that jet?” I ask him.
“Why? Are you missing me?”
“About as much as I’d miss a hole in the head.” I laugh.
“You having a hole in the head is not a joke,” he grunts before sighing into the phone. “Unfortunately, I won’t be on the jet. I have to finish some things here before I can leave.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m tired and I miss being able to look at you.” He sounds so brutally honest.
“Hold on.” I press the button to switch the call to video. Emmanuel accepts it, his face filling my screen. “Hey.”
“Hey,” he says with a huge smile on his lips. “Mi alma, fuck me.” He shakes his head. “I thought I was dreaming it.”
“You thought you were dreaming what?”
“How your beauty takes the breath right out of my lungs,” he says.
“It’s just skin.” I’m uncomfortable with the same praise I’ve heard my entire life.
“Your beauty goes farther than skin-deep. Your soul is what takes my breath away, mi alma, not your skin,” he tells me.
“Where are you?” I take in the moving background behind him.
“In the middle of a meeting.”
“Then why are you talking to me?” I quirk a brow.
“Because you’re more important than the asshole I’m meeting with. Now, tell me what I have to do to get you to go back up to the suite. That casino floor is not the place to be at this time of night.”
“Don’t you have your people watching me? I’m sure I’m completely safe right where I am.”
“I do. But that’s not the point,” he grumbles. “I would just prefer you weren’t alone.”
“I like being alone,” I say. “It’s easier.”
“Easier than what?”
“Pretending,” I admit.
Emmanuel doesn’t say anything. He just stares at me through the screen. I see something move behind him, a flash of something silver.
“E, who is behind you?” I try to get a closer look at the screen.
The next thing I hear are gunshots. The phone is dropped, the camera now facing the ceiling. There’re two more shots before the phone is picked up and Emmanuel’s face fills my screen again.
“Evie, I have to go. Get on the jet tomorrow. Talk soon,” he says.
“Wait!” I yell and he must hear me because he doesn’t cut the call. “Are you okay?”
“I’m good. The other guy, not so much.” He smiles. “Today is not the day you get rid of me, mi alma.”
“I’ll keep praying then.” I smile and hang up. My heart is beating out of my chest. He could have been shot. We were just talking on the phone, and he could have been killed.
My hands shake as I stand and walk back over to the bank of elevators. “Are you okay, ma’am?” a man in a black-on-black suit asks me.
“I’m okay. Thank you.” I smile at him politely. I’ve come to learn that Emmanuel’s men only come out of hiding when they think they need to be seen. They’re also always polite to me.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he knows what his boss is doing, if he’s going to be okay. I don’t. It’s not like they’d tell me anything anyway. And Emmanuel is fine. He didn’t get shot.
Paz is waiting by a car at the casino entrance. Emmanuel mentioned that he’d sent a car for me. He didn’t say he’d sent Paz.
I smile. “You got stuck being my babysitter?”
“I’ve had worse jobs, Miss Carter,” he says, opening the back door.
“Rach, I’ll be right back. Wait in the car for me,” I tell my friend, who is looking at me as if I’ve grown two heads. “Please.”
She nods but I know I’ll hear about it later.
“Paz, follow me.” I walk out of earshot of Rachel, before I spin around. “Why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Emmanuel? You know, making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”
“Miss Carter, I assure you, Jefe is very capable of making sure he doesn’t get himself killed.”
“What happened last night?” I ask.
Paz grins. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.”
“I’m referring to when I was on the phone with him and gunshots started going off in the background. What happened? You really should go back. He needs you more than I do,” I say in one, long, frustrated breath.
“Unfortunately, he’s the boss, ma’am. I’m following orders. And right now, he can’t do his job if he’s worried about you, which is why he sent me.”
“He’s worried about me?” I stop pacing. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. “Really?”
Paz appears to consider his response before saying, “He’s never had anyone like you in his life before. He doesn’t want to lose you.”
I blink, words escaping me. “We should go.”
“He really is okay,” Paz adds as we make our way back to the car.
I slide in beside Rachel, who gives me another look. This one letting me know the inquisition is going to start as soon as we’re alone.