He hangs up before I can say anything else. That didn’t really make me feel better. I didn’t want to hear that he’d killed her, but I didn’t want to hear that they’re fucking happy, either.
It doesn’t count. It’s not real happiness. Over the course of her time with him, he’s changed her. He liked the overall Mia package, so he tweaked it to make her perfect for him. He dirtied her up. Enhanced sides of her that weren’t so dominant when he met her. Obliterated the pieces of her that inconvenienced him. Trained her to please him. I could feel the difference in her in Vegas. She doesn’t even know what he’s done to her.
She still needs to be saved from him, and she doesn’t even know it.
I know, though. I know she needs to be saved.
Maybe I’m the only one who’s not afraid of that bastard. Maybe I’m the only one who can save her. If saving Mia means I win, hey, happy coincidence.
Only I can’t save her as long as he’s alive.
So I guess that settles it.
I have to kill Mateo.
Chapter Three
Vince
There’s been an extra kick in my step ever since Thanksgiving night. I have purpose again. There’s something to plan, something to execute—something to look forward to.
I woke up with a dry mouth, an aching head, and a few doubts about the whole idea, but given just a few hours, I came around to it being a good one.
He’s gonna kill me anyway, if I don’t take him down first. He’s a blight on the face of humanity, and I’m a man with nothing left to lose—it’s his own fault I’m coming after him. He took everything and only left me for dead.
He knows better.
You don’t turn your back on an enemy; you make sure the last puff of breath has left their lungs before you walk away.
Maybe Mia’s got his head all fucked up. God knows she’s good at messing with your head. I didn’t think she could mess with his, but maybe she has messed with his head too, just not the same way she fucked with mine. He’s much more controlling, so our responses to the same bullshit would be very different. I may have given her hell about the shit she pulled, but he’d probably just shut her down if he saw anything she did as a potential threat. He used to love watching Beth flirt and toy with men—until it became a problem. He nipped it in the bud a little too late; she already had the cop in her pocket.
He won’t make the same mistake twice. Mia seems to flirt more now than she ever did before, but she also told me he doesn’t let her socialize with men anymore. He might like to watch her play, but he knows better than to let her have any playmates.
I bet he’s gonna turn her into Beth if he gets the chance. Not on purpose, but he treats people like clay and sometimes he manipulates the form until it crumbles.
I hope I can break her of that habit after I kill him. I don’t know how he can watch, let alone enjoy watching that shit, but I sure as hell don’t.
Once I settle into the idea of taking down Mateo, it just comes down to planning. The problem is I’m a one-man show, and that’s gonna make life a lot harder. I don’t have the resources anymore—the people, the money, the information. I can’t even step foot in Chicago until it’s time to enact whatever plan I manage to put together.
I’m not one to shy away from a challenge, though.
It’s Wednesday evening, I have the night off, and I’m just about to settle in for a brainstorming session when the knocking starts.
I catch myself smiling a little as I head for the door. This woman is fucking helpless. It’s kinda cute.
Since I’ve got a mission I’m in a better mood, I’m not as surly when I open the door and see Carly standing there. “What can I do for you today, new girl?”
“Can I get your opinion on something?” she asks.
It’s freezing out today, so instead of making her stand outside like I usually do, I open the door and take a step back so she can come inside.
“Oh, thank goodness, it’s not an arctic exhibit in here today. You must’ve burgled a good house this week, huh?”
“I told you, I’m not a burglar.”
“You did, but your criminal skill set told me other stories,” she teases, glancing over her shoulder at me as she steps past me. “Actually, your criminal skill set is why I’m here asking you for advice.”
“Working on a bank job?” I ask, closing the door behind her and following her into the living room.
“Nah, too many cameras.” She breezes past the living room and goes over to my table. I had a notebook set up with a beer and the light on overhead. She peers at the notebook—just an empty page right now, but man, she’s nosey—and looks back at me. “Taking night classes?”