Chapter 39
Heathen
I don't care how many times the guys turn around in their seats to stare at me. Kincaid could order me to stand on a podium in the middle of town and treat me like a circus act, and it couldn't wipe the smile from my face.
My girl is wearing my ring, and several little nip marks from my mouth proudly this morning.
I know she's safe here at the villa, and since she has no plans to leave anytime soon, there's no need for me to feel worried. The world isn't perfect by any means, but our world is as close as I think it can come right now, and I'll celebrate that until it changes.
Living in fear or letting myself get lost in the hatred I have for the man who hurt her last night only diminishes the time we have together.
Much like this meeting is doing. Being away from her is the only thing that makes my smile slip a little as Rooster stands from his computer and looks out over us.
"He's a ghost," Twisted mutters, and I know the man is internalizing a lot of this because he and Bandera were the ones on the outside, responsible for watching the house last night.
I don't blame him. It's impossible to cover an entire property with two men, especially with the limited line of sight Morgan's house allows.
Hell, if anyone is to blame, I'd point all of those fingers in my direction. I watched her walk up the stairs, so lost in her and in love that I didn't listen to my gut. Look where it got her.
I shake my head and try to give Rooster all of my focus.
"Morgan didn't get any pictures of him. She went on a date that was set online with a company that connects people without pictures," Rooster says.
"What?" Bandera asks. "That's ridiculous. How are people meeting people when they don't know what they look like?"
"Got me," Rooster says. "It's another online fad, so people don't get so wrapped up in what people look like. It's a way to minimize materialization or some shit."
"What did Morgan tell you about him?" I ask, wanting to move this along because I left Kaylee naked in our bed, and I'd like to get back to her as quickly as possible.
"I haven't spoken with her yet," Rooster says.
"How do you get information if you don't speak with the only person who has seen this guy's face?" Twisted asks, his tone full of irritation.
I know the guy is taking this personally, and I don't fucking blame him.
"I can find out a lot more online than I can when competing against someone's memory," he mutters. "Can we get back to this?"
Twisted crosses his arms over his chest and sits back deeper into his chair.
"She didn't meet this guy online," Rooster says. "She went on a date with another guy and met this guy when she was leaving that date. So we have literally nothing on him. There's nothing for me to follow."
"You could see about the video from wherever that first date happened," I offered, feeling like knowing that would be basic.
"I did," Rooster says. "I don't know if he had access to their video feed, but it's been deleted. There's nothing."
"Not even a phone number?"
"The number she was getting the texts from is a burner phone. We did some minimal triangulation of where he was texting her from, but it didn't provide any personal information."
"I fucking hate burner phones," Bandera snaps, gaining a rumble of approval from all of the rest of us.
"It seems he went super stalker on her very quickly. He texted her within an hour of them exchanging numbers outside of that restaurant."
"She didn't find that creepy?" Twisted asks with a hint of misplaced judgment in his tone.
"I haven't spoken with her," Rooster reminds him. "What I do know is that she texted back, and it wasn't to tell him to leave her alone. This all escalated from that one text until I guess the argument on her front porch the other day."
The television screen behind him flashes with screenshots of the texts.
"Jesus," Bandera snaps when the texts begin to include pictures sent, and I'm grateful for Rooster blurring out some of the images so I'm not stuck with having to try and get images of my wife's best friend out of my fucking head.
"I’ll need to speak with her before we know more, but I can tell you that whoever this guy is, he's good at what he's doing," Rooster adds as the screen behind him goes dark. "He's very capable of hiding in the shadows and making himself known only to others when he wants it to happen."
"Was the first meeting even by chance?" Twisted asks as he leans forward, a scowl on his face.
"I'm not so sure that it was," Rooster answers. "I've traced some of her steps, and as easily as he hid his face from the cameras during the instances that we know of, I've found several more videos prior to their first meeting at the restaurant where there's a shadow of a man. It's very possible he placed himself there to be seen by her exactly when he wanted it to happen."
"When did he first show up?" Bandera asks.
"The day we got to Vegas," Rooster answers. "At least from what I can tell."
"So it can't be related to Cerberus, right?" Twisted asks. "This for sure isn't fromTkachenko's crew."
"It doesn't look like it is," Rooster answers. "But we're still working different angles to make sure. On that note,Tkachenko andVasilev have both been released from jail."
"What the fuck?" I growl, leaning further across the table in anger, but I know Rooster doesn't have anything to do with their releases.
"They were being held on EPA violations and the jails were overrun with violent criminals. The judge didn't consider them a danger to others," Rooster explains.
"They had the proof of trafficking from their raid on his house and the house where the girls were living," I argue further.
"They had speculation, but not one woman has stepped forward to make allegations about him hurting them and forcing them into marriage," Rooster says, and I know it's a fine line for the lawyers and judges to walk.
They can't hold someone when they don't have enough evidence.
"Bail was posted at ten million dollars for each of them, and that was the best the judge could do. I'm looking into any links between the judge and the organization, but so far I haven't been able to find anything that would suggest that particular judge is on their payroll," Rooster adds as he looks in my direction. "There isn't a bug moving on this property that I don't know about. Kaylee and Morgan are safe here."
His assurance goes a long way, but that still doesn't keep the hairs on the back of my neck from standing on end. I really thought we had longer than forty-eight hours before that piece of shit was released, but I guess this is the hand we've been dealt and we have to work with what we have. Thankfully, Kaylee understands the danger, and I don't think that she's going to push her luck very far this time around. Not after what happened last night even though they seem to be unrelated.
"Who’s sitting on those two pieces of shit right now?" Bandera asks.
"Whiskey got in last night," Rooster says, making me sit up further in my seat once again.
"Who?" I snap.
"Spencer Blanton," Rooster says. "He's the newest member of Cerberus Vegas. He's watchingVasilev and Tkachenko for us right now."
"My wife is here," I growl.
"And Morgan," Twisted adds, as if he's already invested in the woman somehow.
"What does that have to do with anything?" Rooster asks.
"If there's going to be a strange man around the house my wife is at, I think I need to know."
Rooster presses his fingers into the area between his brows as he takes a deep breath, clearly annoyed with both Twisted and me.
"Kincaid handpicked Whiskey the same way he handpicked all of you. He's one of us," Rooster assures us, but I don't feel any better about the situation. "Now, unless there's anything else that needs to be discussed, I need a refill."
Rooster holds up his empty coffee cup. I'm in the same boat as he is, only my urgency to leave is because I want to get back to Kaylee. She's all I need for a boost of energy.
We all stand and walk toward the door, and I chuckle when Twisted moves the quickest, shoving open the conference room doors as if there's a fire lit under his ass.
He doesn't have to go far to find Morgan, and I smile when I see Kaylee in the same spot at the breakfast bar where I've always found her.
Morgan is standing across from her with a coffee cup in her hand and a gentle smile on her face.
Before I can lock my eyes on my woman, I watch the cup in Morgan's hand fall, a scream coming from her lips before it has a chance to shatter on the granite countertops.
I look behind me, ready to jump in front of a bullet at whatever it is that scared her, but I find nothing but a frowning Rooster standing there.
"That's him!" Morgan declares from several feet away.
Rooster pulls in a deep breath, his head shaking as if he hasn't just been accused of being the man who hurt my wife.
"Fucking Henry," Rooster grumbles.
"Who the fuck is Henry?" I snap, a second away from putting the man on the floor.
"My twin brother."
THE END