I know that had to piss him off.
If he didn’t intensely long for my death before, he does now.
I pulled one over on the motherfucking king.
He still won, though. That bastard. He always wins. He probably didn’t kill Mia, either. He’s literally watched me fuck her, so despite the blow to his ego, I doubt it was enough to tarnish her for him.
I didn’t want to tarnish her, though. I wanted to keep her. I wanted her to bring the feelings back.
She didn’t this time. I tell myself it’s only because it didn’t work, because she didn’t want me. I felt twinges. More than I ever felt without her. When we talked on the balcony and she hugged me, I felt sparks. That first night I fucked her before she made me see fucking red, when we were kissing—I remembered how it felt. It was so goddamn reassuring. Mia was going to fix everything, because that’s what Mia does. I would’ve even forgiven her this time. I’ve seen enough of life without her; if she could’ve healed me, I would’ve forgiven every fucking thing she did to me.
Problem is, she might’ve done it again.
That would’ve fucking destroyed me.
Fucking Rafe.
I take another swig, straight from the bottle. I don’t fucking share, so who cares?
I’m sick of being the loser. I’m sick of everyone else winning. It doesn’t even make sense. Why didn’t Mia want me? She didn’t even know Rafe and she apparently wanted him more than me. He’s an asshole, too. I know she likes assholes, but Jesus, I didn’t want to treat her like that. How is that a bad thing?
I drink some more.
I think about Mia and Mateo more.
I get angrier.
Why couldn’t she give me whatever she gives him? If it’s enough for him to hang onto her for four years, she’s gotta be giving him something good. He turned his world upside down to have her. I understand, because I would’ve turned the world upside down to have her back.
Why wouldn’t she just give that to me?
I feel fucking helpless knowing I’ll never have her again. Before I hatched a plan and started working toward it, but I blew it. I failed. I no longer have the element of surprise. For however much longer I’m alive, Mateo won’t take his eyes off Mia.
I hope he hasn’t hurt her. I hope she was able to soothe him enough that he didn’t give her the Beth treatment. I’ll kill him if he did.
Suddenly, I have to know.
He doesn’t let her have social media anymore—I already tried checking that—and now that I left Vegas, I don’t have people to feed me information.
There is one asshole I can call. The one who saw her last.
I think it’s late, but that’s east coast time. Vegas time it’s still all right. Also I’m a little drunk and fuck him anyway, so I push up off my couch and head to the bedroom for my burner.
Wild Turkey is a good friend. It assures me this is a good idea.
A few rings later, one of the cousins I don’t like answers his phone. His tone is suspicious since this is a number he doesn’t recognize. His tone is clipped as he answers, “Yeah?”
“Rafe Morelli. How’s life treatin’ ya?”
“Who is this?” he asks, still curt.
“Your favorite cousin,” I return dryly.
Now he sighs, realizing it’s me. “Vince. Goddammit. It’s almost midnight—why are you calling me? Why are you calling me at all?”
“It’s not midnight in Vegas.”
“Yeah, well, I’m in Florida.”
“What are you doing in Florida?” I ask, falling back on my bed and covering my head with my arm. I’m starting to get a headache.
Instead of answering me, he says, “Look, you can’t be calling me. Mateo probably had Adrian bug my phone or some shit and now you’re going to make him think I know something about your whereabouts when I don’t.”
“He’s looking for me, then?”
“I’m not getting involved, Vince. Goodbye.”
“Wait, don’t hang up. I’ll just call back.”
A little less patiently, he demands, “What the fuck do you want?”
“How was Mia? You took her to Chicago, right?”
“Of course you’re calling me at midnight on Thanksgiving to ask about the girl you kidnapped,” he mutters. “She’s fine, Vince. Stay away from her.”
“He didn’t hurt her, then? Did you see her after he got his hands on her again, or did he lock her up in his bedroom? I just want to know if you saw her again. He killed Beth. I just want to know if Mia’s okay.”
“Mia is perfectly fine,” he assures me. “He didn’t hurt her. She was happy to be home.”
“She’s brainwashed.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rafe states. “Look, I have to go. Mia is great—Mateo took good care of her. They’re happy together. Take my advice: move on with your life while you still have one.”