Chapter Thirteen
Roe
Milo Grassi didn’t bring up much.
He didn’t even have any social media accounts.
That said, the last name Grassi sure had a lot of interesting information to wade through. Some of it dated all the way back to the seventies. And a lot of those articles were linked to crime.
Because the Grassis weren’t just a family.
They were a mafia organization.
Sure, you could make an argument (and my mind tried) that just because someone was related to the mob didn’t mean they were also involved.
But, well, each time I tried to tell myself that he wasn’t in the mafia, a memory surfaced. Things that made a lot more sense with that context. Keeping his identity secret. Having so much cash on hand all the time. Burner phones. Knowledge of cameras.
There was so much about him that I tried to shove into a rich businessman slot, but he never quite fit.
A calm, confident, experienced mafia capo, though?
Yeah, he fit in there perfectly.
So, I was officially involved with an organized crime family.
Yeah, I’d been doing something… kind of illegal before. But now? Now it was fully criminal.
I really, really needed not to get caught.
Not by Frank.
But also… not by the law either.
My heart was skittering around in my chest as I checked my door lock before stripping out of my sweats and pulling on the green dress I’d been dreaming about for months.
I glanced at my burner phone, double-checked the sounds, then shoved it into its hidden pocket at my side. It felt weighty and bulky against my arm, but when I lifted my arms and moved around in the mirror, I couldn’t see it.
With that, I made sure the flashlight and door lock were well hidden inside my sweats that I shoved in my bag, then went on stage to sing to a crowd of strangers who had no idea my stomach was twisting itself into tight circles by the moment.
“Monroe!” Frank called when I finished my last set.
Just like that, all the knots wrapped themselves into a tight ball that lodged itself at the back of my throat.
“Frank,” I croaked, then coughed to try to cover the awkward sound.
“You’re not getting sick, are you?”
“No. I just need to get my after-shift tea to soothe my vocal cords.”
To that, he nodded.
“This is a new dress.”
“It is,” I said, unable to stop myself from running my hand down the front, still a little awed that I actually had it on my body.
“Who gave it to you?” he asked, eyes going stormy.
“Gave it to me?” I asked, my belly seizing.
Did he know?
Could he know?
“Was it Eric again?”
“Oh! No! No, I treated myself,” I said, waving off his comment like it was silly. “I was a little worried that if we had a bunch of repeat guests, they might not like that I’m always in the same couple of dresses.”
“I’ve had that worry myself,” he agreed.
I was sure it had never crossed his puny little mind.
“It felt like it was time for an upgrade. Do you like it?” I asked, giving him big, hopeful eyes even as my stomach turned from the words.
“Do a spin for me?”
I should have seen that one coming.
My heart fluttered, but I reminded myself that if I couldn’t see the phone in the bright lights of my dressing room, there was no way it would be visible under the dim lounge lighting.
“Of course,” I said, giving him a playful smile before turning in a slow circle.
“Stunning. As always. We should—” he started, holding a hand out to help me down the six-inch stage.
“Frank,” someone called, making both of us glance toward the door.
One of his henchmen was standing there, a serious look on his face.
“Excuse me. Duty calls.”
Thank God.
Because I was pretty sure he was about to ask me something that would be hard to find my way out of.
And if I didn’t get this snooping over with that night, I was pretty sure I was going to chicken out completely.
I rushed back to my dressing room, grabbed my bags, then made my way back in the direction of Frank’s office.
If he came, I could just say that I thought he was going to ask me to work another shift or something.
I expected to feel a little calmer after successfully getting in once and out without actually being caught.
But my skin felt electric.
My mouth was paper-dry.
And there was this strange shivering sensation continually moving through my stomach.
Once I got to the door, I plunged my hand into my purse to grab the flashlight.
I paused, glancing at the mouth of the hallway, then listening to see if I heard anyone coming.
With no signs of other people, though, I had no choice but to continue my investigation.
I sucked in a breath, pressed the flashlight into the corner of the door where it would open once I reached for the knob, then clicked it on.
It was a blinding kind of bright, making me fumble to push the door open before someone saw something weird and came running.
I aimed it directly at the camera and said a silent prayer that Milo was right about it whiting out the camera feed.
I rushed around and stuck the flashlight on top of a stack of boxes, aimed at the camera, so my hands were free.
Then I ran at the desk, ripping open the drawers one by one.
On the left side, there was just old junk: a tape dispenser, pens with logos on them, sticky notes, take-out menus to places that hadn’t existed in years, even an ancient phonebook.
But on the right side, there were pieces of mail and receipts.
I yanked my phone out of my hidden pocket, snapping pictures as quickly and steadily as my shaking hand would allow.
I put everything back in the right order and went down to the next drawer.
There were folders there, but I only managed to get a picture of the top pages of two of them before I heard something that had my stomach bottoming out.
Footsteps.
And not slow ones either.
They were coming for me.
I was caught.
I closed the drawer, not wanting to be caught red-handed.
But there was nothing I could do about the flashlight. Not that quickly.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.
A helpless little cry gurgled up just before the door suddenly flew open.
But it wasn’t Frank.
It wasn’t one of his suit-clad henchmen.
It wasn’t a man at all.
This woman was tall and slim and clad in black jeans and a matching lightweight sweater.
Her feminine, round-shaped face was dominated by plush lips and stunning hazel eyes.
But the thing you noticed the most about her was her hair.
She had a massive amount of curly, gold-kissed strawberry blonde hair.
This wasn’t just any average employee at the casino.
This was the infamous pit boss.
Her gaze locked on me and I swear I felt stripped bare under that gaze. Like she saw underneath my skin. Like she knew my plans and motivations. Though with a face as stoic as hers, I had no idea what she thought of them.
She glanced over at the flashlight, at the camera, then back to me.
“You need to go,” she said finally, her eye contact unblinking. “Now. You need to go now.”
“I…”
“Monroe, you have two minutes if you’re lucky. Get the hell out of here.”
I didn’t stop to think, to analyze.
I grabbed my bags and ran.
She was right behind me after carefully closing the door.
“No. Right,” she demanded when I went to choose a direction at the mouth of the hallway. “There are cameras to the left. Walk with purpose. Don’t run. But get the fuck out of here.”
With that, she strode toward the right herself, but quickly disappeared into a door marked for utilities.
My whole body felt like it was shaking as I power-walked through the hallways before finally disappearing into my dressing room just before feet came running down the hallway.
I leaned back against my closed door, gasping for breath, my heart punching so hard against my ribcage that I was sure I was about to have a heart attack.
I heard the thundering footsteps and I knew I had to go. I had to move. I had to get out of the building before they came looking around and found me still lingering.
I forced my legs to hold my weight, moved out of my room, and walked on wobbly legs to the closest exit.
I wanted to stop.
I wanted to be able to catch my breath, to slow my beating heart, to wipe the useless tears off my cheeks.
But I just kept going.
I broke my usual rules and moved into one of the alleys between the buildings on the boardwalk.
I slid down the wall until my knees were crushed to my chest. It should have made the breathlessness worse, but there was something comforting about the pressure as I just crouched there, my body shaking so hard that my vision was jumping.
I squeezed my eyes shut and just tried to focus on taking slow, deep breaths.
But it felt like a long, long time before a single coherent thought crossed my mind.
And that thought?
Milo.
I needed to talk to Milo.
My phone was still in my palm, creating creases in my skin from clutching it so hard.
I typed in the passcode, found Milo’s contact, and hit call before I could think better of it.
“Is every—” he started.
“Milo,” I cut him off, my voice caught between a sob and a yell.
“Where are you?” he asked.
I swear I could practically hear him moving around, getting ready to come rescue me.
“I… I’m not sure. I…”
“Baby, listen. I need to know where you are so I can come get you.”
“You can’t. I’m too close to the casino,” I said, knowing we couldn’t be seen together.
“Okay. Listen. Walk to my hotel,” he said. “If you’re still close to the casino, you’re really close to me. Closer than your house. Walk to me. I’ll stay on the phone with you the whole time. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agreed, sniffling as I got to my feet.
My legs still felt shaky.
They could give out on me all they wanted as soon as I knew I was safe.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Someone zoomed past me on an e-bike, making my whole body jolt and a gasp escape me.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’m jumpy.”
“That’s alright. Tell me what you’re passing.”
“Um.. I’m about to pass the arcade,” I said.
Even as I said it, I approached.
And it was all too much.
Too loud.
Too bright.
Too overwhelming.
My shoulders inched up toward my ears, and I ducked my head and charged forward.
“I’m on my way downstairs,” Milo said in my ear.
“Okay.” I could see his hotel looming across the Boardwalk from me.
I pretended not to notice the group of teenagers puffing on a joint as I rushed past.
“Where are you?”
“Almost at the door,” I told him.
“There’s an elevator bank directly forward inside the doors. Walk toward them. I’m coming down on the middle one.”
I didn’t notice anything about the lobby. Everything was just a blur around me as I focused on the golden center elevator.
And just as I got to it, the doors slid open.
Then there he was.
Wearing a pair of sleep pants and a tee that had been hastily put on, seeing as it was inside out and backward.
But what I noticed most was the way the second he saw me, his arms opened wide, inviting me in.
I didn’t hesitate.
I walked right into him and let him wrap me up.