Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elias throws a manilla folder down on the table in front of me.
“What’s this?” I ask, sliding it closer.
He sits down across from me. “Something you didn’t ask for, but need to see.”
Curious, I open the folder and immediately wish I didn’t. The first thing I see is a picture of Poppy. It’s been a week since she left. A week of not sleeping and doing everything to keep myself busy so I don’t cave and call her. Or worse, jump on a plane and go and see her. I slam the folder shut.
“You’re right. I didn’t ask.” I glare at Elias. “When did you say you’re going back to Mexico?”
“I didn’t. And you need to read that.” He points at the folder.
“What I need is for my family to stay the fuck out of my personal life.”
“Your family is your personal life, moron. I know why she ran.”
This has my attention. “It doesn’t matter why she ran. She didn’t stay.”
“It matters, because anyone in her position would have run,” Elias says.
“I don’t want to be with someone who runs at the drop of a hat. I don’t have the time or inclination to chase someone around the country,” I tell him.
“It’s a good thing that she’s in LA then. You don’t have to go far at all.”
“She’s in LA?” I ask.
“Yep. Stop being stubborn and read the damn file. Where are the waiters? I’m hungry?” Elias glances around the restaurant.
“I already ordered for you,” I tell him.
“Great.”
I stare at the folder. Do I really want to open that can of worms again?
“Just so you know, I looked into it and what she thinks happened to her mother isn’t anything close to the truth,” Elias says.
“What do you mean?”
“Open the folder, Sammie J. Stop being your own enemy.”
“I’m busy. I don’t have time for this,” I tell him. “I’ve got to help Imogen.”
“Your sister is going to be fine. Your parents have doctors lined up. We’re all being tested to see if we’re a match to donate bone marrow. And if we’re not, we will find some. There’s nothing you can’t get on the black market if you know where to look,” Elias says.
I’m hoping my tests come back as a perfect match. I’m her only sibling. I should be a match. And there’s nothing I wouldn’t give my sister. “I still need to be here for Imogen.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be here to support Imogen. We all want to be here for her. I’m saying you shouldn’t let someone else get what you want.”
“When did you become an expert on relationships? Come to think of it, when have you even had one?” I raise a brow at him.
“Never and don’t put that kind of curse on me.
But you… you’ve already fallen. And, honestly, you’ve been a miserable, grouchy bastard since Poppy left your naked ass in the middle of the night.
Everyone thinks so, which is why I’m here telling you to snap the fuck out of it.
” Elias points at the folder again. “Read the fucking file and stop being a pussy.”
The waitress comes with our meals. Once she leaves, I open the folder and start reading. “She moved to LA? Why?”
“No idea, but she’s renting an apartment.” Elias shrugs.
I turn a piece of paper over and find a police report. “What’s this?”
“The report filed when her mother died,” Elias explains.
“Her mother was a cop?” I ask him.
“Seems that way,” Elias says around a mouthful of steak.
Steak… The last time I had a steak was at Poppy’s ranch. Fucking hell, I really need to get a grip on this shit. I continue reading. Because, well, now that I’ve opened the can, there’s no point closing it.
Her mother was killed on the job.
“Wait. What the fuck?” I look up at Elias as soon as my eyes land on the name of the main suspect in the case. “Tell me this isn’t true?”
No wonder she fucking ran…
“It’s not. I have no idea why that’s in the report, but someone is covering something because we weren’t anywhere near Texas at that time.”
“You’re one-hundred percent certain?” I press him.
“Yes.”
I slam the manilla folder closed and stand. “I have to go.”
I have a woman to hunt down and set some things straight. She ran because she thought my uncle’s cartel killed her mother.
On my way out of the restaurant, I message the pilot. I need to get to LA. And as soon as I get into the car, I call my sister.
“I’m fine,” she answers.
“Okay, hello to you too, sunshine.”
“You called me an hour ago, Sammie J. Nothing has changed since then.”
“I have to go to LA. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. But I can come back anytime you need me.”
“I’ll be fine. Why are you going to LA?”
“Ah…” Shit, this is not a conversation I want to have with my sister. Her life is literally hanging on by a thread, and I’m chasing a girl down.
“Sammie J, why are you going to LA?” Imogen repeats.
“Poppy moved to LA.”
“And you’re going to go track her down?”
“Yeah, something like that,” I admit.
“Good. I like her.”
“You do?”
“Yes, she makes you smile and she’s hot. You guys are going to make such cute babies,” Imogen says.
“Slow down. I’m just going to talk to her, not propose marriage and kids,” I say.
“Sure, you’re going to talk. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?” Imogen laughs. “Oh god, I miss sex. I better not die before I get laid again.”
“Imogen, not funny,” I groan.
“What? The dying or the sex?”
“The dying.”
“Okay, well, I miss sex. You think there’s a dating app for sick people? Like Tinder for the ill?”
“I doubt it. And you should focus on resting. You’re going to start treatment soon, and before you know it, you’re going to be good as new, Imogen.”
“Yeah,” she says but I know she doesn’t believe it.
“I love you. I have to go.”
“Love you too. Bring her back.” Imogen cuts the call.
I read every bit of information Elias and my mother gave me during the flight over. I caved and went back to my apartment to retrieve the file my mother handed to me weeks ago. I didn’t want to. I wanted to learn about Poppy from Poppy. That’s a bit fucking hard to do when she runs.
She’s had a lot of loss. I now understand why her walls were so fucking hard to break through.
But I demolished them. I just need to remind her how much she wants me.
I don’t care what I have to do to get her back onboard with the idea of us.
Which is why I picked her lock to let myself into her new apartment, since she hasn’t given me a key yet.
I’ve been sitting in her living room for an hour, waiting for her to show up. I have no idea where she is or what she’s doing. I really should have put a tracker on her or on her phone. Something I’ll be rectifying as soon as I can.
I’ve been using my time to start digging into what actually happened to her mother.
Because what she believes—what the dirty fucking cop who filed this report told her—is bullshit.
The report states that her mother responded to a domestic violence call.
When she arrived, she walked in on a cartel drug drop.
The De la Sangre Cartel, according to the paperwork.
Her mother was shot, execution-style, with her own weapon.
A gun that was never found. The only witness to the event was her partner, who claims he went around back and that by the time he got onto the property, she was already dead.
You see, I know this report is bullshit because the cartel my uncle runs isn’t fucking sloppy.
There is no way they would have left a witness behind.
Also, they don’t do drops in rundown houses in the middle of fucking nowhere.
Something is off with the partner. My money is on that fucker being the one who killed Poppy’s mother.
It’s the why that I need to find out. So far, I’ve come up empty.
On paper, he appears to be a middle-aged, divorced father of three.
His ex-wife and kids moved two months before Poppy’s mother died.
It looks like I’m going to have to take another trip to Texas to question the asshole myself.
A sheriff? Yep, I’m considering torturing information out of a small-town sheriff.
Not something I’ve done before, but I will if I have to.
I tend to steer clear of pigs. I like keeping my name as far off their radar as possible.
Although, when your last name is Russo in Vegas, you’re never really off the radar of the cops, unless you’re paying to be kept off it.