Chapter 23
Heathen
"You seem on edge."
I don't bother looking toward Twisted, and I know not doing so is only going to fuel whatever conversation this man thinks we're going to have.
He was in the kitchen this morning to witness me walking in and embracing Kaylee. Hell, it wouldn't surprise me if he stuck his head out of his bedroom door and watched us walk into my room hand in hand.
As much as I thought Vegas was going to be different from New Mexico, it seems everyone is still in everyone else's business here just like they are there.
Rooster mentioned the cameras last night, which means he saw at least some of what happened in the hot tub. After thinking about that longer, it makes me want to punch his lights out until he can no longer remember what he witnessed. That was an intimate situation I had with my wife, and I feel a certain kind of way with him having seen it.
"I'm fine," I lie.
I came so hard I thought I was going to lose my footing, but by the time I left the shower and got dressed, it was as if my craving for her only tripled, and coming on her skin barely took the edge off. I feel borderline insane and was grateful to get the text that I was to go with Twisted to sit on the warehouse where I married Kaylee.
He chuckles, telling me I'm incapable of convincing him otherwise.
Every blink of my eyes seemed to last hours, the images of her heated skin in the shower, the way her eyes rolled back when she orgasmed. I shift in the seat, refusing to look down at my cock, the same thing threatening to thicken with just the memory of our shower this morning. She has effectively taken over damn near every thought in only a matter of days, and as relieved as I was to put some distance between the two of us, I've regretted every second away since I walked out the front door.
"Not much activity," I mutter, doing my best to change the subject.
I've never been one to sit around and shoot the shit with a group of guys. I don't talk about conquests or get involved in any of the bragging and tall tales a lot of guys do, one-upping each other with every other word that comes out of their mouths.
I wouldn't say they're purposely trying to disrespect the women they're telling stories about, but it has always seemed that way to me, so I never participate.
I'm certainly not going to sit here and discuss my wife with this man, even if our relationship isn't real.
"We have the address to the house where the women live," he says, straightening up in his seat as if he's ready to pull off and head in that direction.
"Rooster said he found an appointment online for today, although it didn't have a specific time," I remind him, keeping my eyes on the door I entered when I first came here the other day.
"It's insane to me that someone would actually put such a thing in their calendar, much less name the location and who the meeting is with. People can't even be good criminals anymore," Twisted mutters, settling back into the seat.
"Rooster explained it, and although it confused the shit out of me, I think there were like ten or fifteen different levels of information for him to find the appointment with side names and fake addresses. Somehow his computer program sorts through all that shit and reassembles it into the truth. Fucking insane how smart that man is," I explain.
"That makes me feel a little better about the criminal underworld."
"It would be easier if they were as dumb as you were thinking they are," I argue.
"But it would be a lot less fun," he says. Although I'm not looking at him, I can hear the smile in his voice. "Imagine how many more organizations we could take down if they were that stupid though."
"There are plenty of stupid people in the world," I mutter.
"I feel like you're internalizing that statement," he says, and although I can feel his eyes on the side of my head, I do my best not to look at him.
He's trying to get a reaction out of me with his veiled reference to what I've done by marrying Kaylee. This SUV is too fucking small for how it makes me feel.
Slowly, I roll my head on the headrest to look in his direction.
"I don't regret what I've done," I say evenly. "I'd even go so far as to say that what I've done is exactly what was supposed to happen all along."
"Jesus," he mutters, his head shaking slowly. "You drank the fucking Kool-Aid in New Mexico."
A chuckle bubbles out of my throat, making him smile.
"Maybe I did," I confirm, not feeling at all embarrassed about my growing feelings toward Kaylee.
"I stayed as far away from that shit as I possibly could."
"I don't think it matters," I say, my eyes going back to the warehouse door. "I think they pump it into the ventilation or something. You heard about Hemlock, right?"
"Ridiculous," he says. "Even that man got caught. I don't think it'll work for me though. I've got no interest whatsoever in getting tangled up with one woman for the rest of my life. I can't even fathom a life where that would be enough."
"Maybe one woman won't be enough, but that doesn't mean you won't end up dedicated to two."
He scoffs as if the idea is beyond impossible.
"Dominic's own daughter has two men," I remind him. "The idea isn't as insane as it may sound."
"Two women," he says, rubbing his hands together as if he just won a huge prize. "Could you imagine?"
"No," I answer without hesitation because there's only one woman who has been constantly in my head for days. So much so that it's almost as if no other women even walk the earth.
"You're fucking whipped already," he says.
"Maybe," I answer with a shrug.
"It doesn't bother you?"
"Why should it?"
"Vegas was supposed to be one long party. Save the girls and spend every night with a new woman."
"Maybe those were your goals," I say. "They were never mine."
"Are you saying that getting married to the first chick who caught your eye was all part of your plan?"
I scoff. "I never saw her coming, man. If you're not careful, you'll be next."
"I can't fucking believe you've fallen for this chick. How is that even possible?"
I shake my head. "I wish I fucking knew."
"That's wild. As cute and poetic as it sounds, she may not want anything to do with you after this bust."
"What makes you say that?" I ask, my heart rate increasing with the threat of things ending with Kaylee.
"Does she know what happens to these women when we raid the warehouse?"
I've done my best to keep that knowledge from sinking in too deep.
"I doubt it. I imagine she thinks they all get a happily ever after."
"That's not how Homeland Security and ICE work," he says, as if I need the reminder.
"Too bad they don't get a ' sorry about your experiences in the United States, here's citizenship for your trouble '."
"Yeah," he says, sounding a little sadder than he was before. "Instead, they end up held in deportation housing until they can be sent back to their home country."
"I can't even imagine being born someplace so toxic that coming to a different country and marrying a man who will forever treat you like a possession is better."
"Pretty fucked," Twisted mutters.
"Not to mention the power and control that the men like Dima have over them, and for years after they marry," I add. "Did I tell you that he practically told Kaylee to stay married for two years and then leave me so she could make more money by getting a divorce and being available to be married out once again?"
"Makes me wonder how many women there are waiting for a subsequent marriage," he says.
"Makes me wonder how many men have been asked for a divorce and then lost their shit because their possession was trying to break free."
"I can only imagine the number of holes dug in the Mojave Desert," he mutters, making a wave of cold chills run down my arms.
"That's if they even bother to dig one," he comments further. "I fucking hate people."
"Same."
"How are you going to feel when it comes time to cut Kaylee loose?"
I don't know how to answer that right now. There are times when I'm able to convince myself that I can walk away when the time comes, but then again, I was incredibly reluctant just to go to fucking work this morning.
One minute, it feels like we're just two consenting people having a little fun to pass the time and then, there are times like this morning when I woke to her empty side of the bed and I didn't even bother to put on a fucking shirt before going to find her.
"What we have isn't real," I mutter, needing to say it out loud more to convince myself that it's true than to convince him.
The door to the warehouse opens, and Edmon steps out into the sunshine from the belly of the place. It takes every ounce of control I've honed over the years not to step outside of the car and put a hole in his face.
"If you grip that door handle any harder, you're going to break the damn thing," Twisted says.
It still doesn't make me release it.
"It seems like you might struggle with that decision when the time comes," he says, but this time there's no humor in his voice.
It's as if he knows how difficult it's going to be for me, and he doesn't envy me having to make that decision at all.
"He's a piece of shit," I mutter.
"No doubt, but getting a little vengeance on that goon isn't part of the plan. Dima is the head of the snake, and he's the one we need to take down."
"Too bad this isn't a job in South America," I mutter, pulling a grunt of agreement from him.
If Cerberus was working a case in South America, there would be a lot less red tape if the leader of this particular organization just happened to disappear into one of those desert holes we were speaking of moments ago.
"I'm attracted to her," I confess after Edmon gets something out of the SUV before going back inside.
"Of course you are. She's hot as hell," he says, drawing my eyes to the side of his face. "Objectively speaking."
"Neither of us is looking for something serious."
"Yet you married her the second time you saw her."
I have no argument against the facts he has stated, so I don't bother even attempting to.
"This is definitely not how I saw my life going," I mutter, shoving both hands into my hair.
"Shouldn't have drank the fucking Kool-Aid," he mutters.