Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
“Lailani, Lailani! Uncle Sammie and I got you ice cream. It’s strawberry, your favorite!” Jazzy yells as she runs up.
I open the side door to let her behind the counter. Then I look over to Fefe, who is working beside me. “I need to take five,” I tell her.
She nods. “I’ve got you.”
Grabbing Jazzy’s hand, I lead her through the back entrance, away from customers and all my coworkers, who are now staring at me. “You got me ice cream?”
“Uh-huh. And you have to come to dinner tonight at Uncle Louie’s and Auntie Charlotte’s. Please,” she says with pleading eyes.
I look up to Sammie for some kind of assistance. I cannot go to dinner with his friends. That would be weird. “Um…”
“I’ll let Charlotte know you’ll be coming.” He smirks. Bastard knows full well I do not want to go.
“Yay! I’m going to ask Auntie Charlotte to sit you next to me, Lailani.” Jazzy squeals. “It’s going to be fun!”
“I bet it is,” I grumble while glaring at Sammie, who seems totally unfazed.
“Come on, princess, we should leave Lailani to get back to work.” He takes hold of Jazzy’s hand before turning to me. “I’ll pick you up later.”
“You don’t need to do that.” I shake my head, but he’s already walking away.
“Bye, Lailani!” Jazzy yells out again.
What the hell did I just get myself into?
I pull my phone from my pocket and quickly message Emmanuel. Maybe he can come up with a reason for me not to be there.
Me:
Any jobs in the Amazonian jungle?
E:
Do I look like a recruitment agent?
Me:
What about the North Pole? I’ll take anything that gets me out of this city tonight.
The device starts vibrating in my hand, the letter E flashing on the screen.
“Hello,” I answer.
“What happened?” Emmanuel asks.
“Jazzy invited me to dinner at Louie and Charlotte’s tonight and your dipshit friend went along with it like it was a great idea,” I groan.
“My dipshit friend?” Emmanuel chuckles.
“I can’t go to dinner with him, E. Send me away,” I whine.
“Why not?”
“What do you mean why not? Because I don’t need people knowing what I’m doing with Sammie,” I state the obvious. “They’re all going to know.”
“It’s just dinner. I’d prefer you to attend anyway. Evie’s gonna be there. The more capable people around her, the better,” he says.
“Argh, do you have any idea how exhausting it is pretending to be someone you’re not?” I ask him.
“No. Because I never have to pretend,” he tells me.
“How much will he hate me, E? When he finds out the truth?” I know it’s inevitable.
“Lailani Miller, are you in love?”
“No,” I huff. “That would be stupid.”
“Sure.” He cuts the call in true Emmanuel style. No goodbye, no talk to you later. Just a click that tells me he’s done.
Nerves are something I’m not familiar with. I don’t get nervous, which is why I’m so frustrated at myself right now. Because I am nervous. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not me. So, what if Sammie’s friends don’t like me? They’re not even getting the real version of me.
This job will end soon. I’m sure of it. And then I’ll be nothing but a distant memory. The thought of leaving Sammie—leaving Jazzy—bothers me. I’ve gotten attached and that’s not supposed to happen. I blame Emmanuel. I’m not supposed to be undercover for this long.
I purposely walk two steps behind Sammie after telling him we don’t know each other, much to his disapproval.
I think if it were up to him, he’d stroll in with my hand in his, declaring us official.
The thought of him doing that, of publicly claiming me, gives me butterflies. Another foreign sensation.
My anxiety eases a little when I see Emmanuel.
He’s already here. I’m still pissed at him for not sending me out to the Amazonian jungle.
Seriously, if anyone had business out there, it’d be him.
But I’m relieved to see a friendly face.
Not that his face is friendly in the least, more familiar. Even if I can’t go up and talk to him.
“Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” Emmanuel asks Sammie while smirking at me.
“Lailani.” I hold out a hand to him, and he takes it.
“Emmanuel, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Lailani, you’re here. Come on, you can sit with me.” Jazzy saves me by grabbing my arm and tugging me through the apartment until we enter a dining room.
This is more awkward than I thought it would be.
The only good part is watching Emmanuel lose his cool when it comes to Evie.
He’s like a lost puppy. I’ve literally never seen him like this before.
When he dropped into the club that one time, I was too focused on Sammie to notice.
But now, sitting across from him, I get to observe it all.
The way he can’t stop looking at her, the way she’s doing everything to pretend he doesn’t exist.
Interesting. I feel for her. She has absolutely no chance of avoiding him. I know Emmanuel. If he wants something, he is going to get it by any means. Including this woman.
The dinner goes by without incident. It’s a little strange.
I’m constantly waiting for the bomb to drop.
The one that Emmanuel seems convinced is coming to this city, to his friends.
I keep waiting to figure out the reason I’ve been planted here.
At first, I thought he just wanted me to spy on them, but after watching the way they interact, I don’t think that anymore.
As soon as dinner is over, I make an excuse to leave. When Sammie goes to walk me out, I shake my head at him, and thankfully he stops.
By the time I get home, I’m more at ease.
Not as anxious. I don’t do well in social situations.
I never really have. I’ve never been the type to have big friend groups like that.
Hence my only friend is a cartel leader.
The biggest drug lord in Mexico, also someone who I have no doubt wouldn’t blink twice before cutting my head off if he felt the need to do so.
The sound of my phone ringing snaps me out of my thoughts. “Dad? Are you okay?” I answer, shocked that he’s actually calling me.
“I’m good. How are you?”
“I’m okay,” I tell him.
“I know you’re probably busy, but John is getting hitched, so I thought you could be my plus-one. If you can make it,” he says.
“John? Really?” I question.
John is one of my father’s former colleagues. I’ve known the guy my whole life. Considering my line of work, I’ve kept my distance over the years, though. Especially since discovering how many of the men I once admired as a kid are not what they seem.
I’ve wondered how my father has stayed on the straight and narrow when everyone around him seems to be corrupt as shit. Even John. I once saw him oversea an arms deal with a mafia family in New York. He, of course, didn’t know I was there, watching them in the shadows.
“Yeah, I know it’s short notice. I just found out myself. Wedding is in three weeks,” Dad tells me.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll try to make it. Send me the details,” I say. “It’ll be good to see you.”
“You too. Are you… staying safe?” This is my dad’s way of asking if I’m staying off the cops’ radar.
I guess he isn’t all that straight and narrow, because as by the book as he is, he has never once thought to turn me in or arrest me himself. I asked him why once, and he said he loves me too much to see me rot behind bars. That his failures are his burden to bear.
My father is convinced I turned out the way I did because of the way he raised me.
That it’s his fault. It’s not. I turned out the way I did because I watched my mother get slaughtered in front of me, and I swore I would do whatever it took to avenge her.
And that’s what I’ve done. That’s what I’ll continue to do.
Take out the sort of men who have no problem murdering innocent women. All my dad did was teach me to shoot.
When my door opens, I look to the foyer. Sammie. I knew he’d show up.
“Dad, I gotta go. I’ll call you back. Love you,” I mumble into the phone before dropping it onto the table.
Sammie shuts and locks the door behind him. “I want you naked and spread out on your bed within the next two minutes,” he says, stalking towards me.
Well, when he asks so nicely, who am I to say no?