12. Olivia
Chapter twelve
Olivia
We are slowly getting more evidence against Los Comos. It has been a lot of he said, she said with no solid evidence. Every lead we get somehow disappears. I know those fuckers are making them disappear, but the question is. How? I don’t know which direction we have to go to get something solid on them.
On paper, they are as clean as a whistle, but everyone in San Diego is aware of them and knows they run the Cartel in Southern California. It’s not a secret, so why is this so difficult?
I am sitting at my desk, searching for any information about current murders, money laundering, missing women or children, or anything to lead me in the right direction. My mind starts to drift off to Alex. I wonder why he hasn’t texted me back. I wonder what he is doing. Why do I even care? I shouldn’t care; he is the one who ghosted me. That’s his problem, not mine. He missed out on what fun we could have had.
I am not conceited by any means, but I know I am not ugly, and he is beyond gorgeous; between his dark chocolate eyes, Marine Corps high and tight brown hair, his beautiful sun-kissed tan skin, and that panty-dropping smile with dimples that make me weak in the knees. I let my mind wander for a minute, allowing myself to think about everything that is Alex.
I pull out my phone to stalk his social media accounts. His last post was the Friday after our date. It is a picture of him in a black Henley shirt, wearing sunglasses and a backward baseball cap, with the sunset behind him, as he holds up a peace sign. The only thing that it says is “Peace Out.” I wonder what the fuck that means. My mind is wandering all over the place. I am super curious about where he went. Why does it just say peace out? What does that mean? Why do I care?
I finished what little work I had left and logged out of my computer. I grabbed my jacket and walked out the door; I didn’t have time to deal with any of my coworkers right now. They would ask me if I wanted to go to the bar or hang out, but all I wanted to do was lie on the couch in my fuzzy blanket and read a smutty book.
On my way home, I stopped at the little Chinese restaurant near my apartment. Of course, a smutty book always goes well with chow mein and orange chicken. While waiting for my food, I overheard a man on the phone who mentioned something about “the product being shipped” and Lopez García. My interest is piqued. I tried to listen more; there were mentions of the feds, bait, and a grandson. The man spoke extremely fast; some things were hard to pick up from this distance.
I want to listen more, but my order is up. I made sure to pin this knowledge and come back to it. I wonder what type of bait they are talking about. I will need to mention this to the guys. What if it's another woman they use as bait? Who are they baiting?
I decided to deal with this knowledge when I returned to the office. Right now, I need a good book, food, a shower, and sleep. That’s the plan, and I am sticking to it.
When I get home with my takeout, I set the bag on the coffee table and get my bottle of wine from the fridge. It’s been a day, and I plan to relax. I turn on the TV, put on some shitty romcom to fill in the quiet while I eat my food.
I started to take out my Chinese to-go containers, and my mouth started to water as soon as I pulled out the egg drop soup. I pop the lid off, put an unhealthy amount of black pepper on my soup, and dig in. This soup is my absolute favorite thing in this whole world. I would live off this soup if I could.
I zone out as I eat my food, and once again, my mind goes back to Alex. I think about the conversations we had at the Diner. The way his eyes shone as he was dancing like a crazy person in my passenger seat, and I also think about all the anger I saw on his face when he saw Andrew kick Rachel. The man may not admit it to anyone, but he wears his heart on his sleeve.
I pulled out my phone and saw that there were still no messages from him. I won’t lie, I am a little butthurt that I’m getting ghosted. But I have to remember it’s his loss. I trade out my phone for my book on the coffee table. I want to escape reality and enter a fantasy world. I need a morally grey man to distract my mind. An unhinged book boyfriend is always better than a real man.