The little monster’s eyes lit up. “And Uncle Happy and Nikki and Dave?” When I nodded, he went on, “And Aunt Manda?”
A short laugh escaped me. “Yep. Uncle Zep and Nonno Tony too. Everyone.”
“Yes,” he offered immediately, grinning hard. And I was glad for it.
God knew I needed the distraction.
Twitch was noticeably absent during dinner, but only my wonderful, pushy Dave had the guts to ask the question everyone was thinking.
“Where’s Señor Gets-Mad-A-Lot?”
It was after dark. A.J. was in bed after overdosing on chocolate ice cream and passing out on Ana’s lap. Molly was in her room talking to Tama on the phone, which left me able to speak freely. “I don’t know.”
The entire table went silent, and I forced out a laugh before looking around. “Anyone have any idea where he went?” I settled my gaze on Happy. “With a duffle bag.” Then to Julius. “In the middle of the night?” My eyes turned to Papa Tony. “Anyone?” When I turned to face Zep, my voice hushed. “Because I’m going quietly crazy here with every hour that passes. I mean—” My desperate eyes found Nikki’s. “—I don’t even know if he is coming back.”
Nobody responded, and that in itself spoke volumes.
“Don’t be silly,” Nikki started surely, breaking the silence. “He wouldn’t do that.” Her tone lowered a decibel. “Not again.” But her confidence fell as she looked to Happy and found him peering at Julius, an unspoken question in his eyes. “Would he?”
Dave jeered, “Yes, he would.” He held his hands up in surrender and it was directed at me. “I’m sorry, babe, but....” At my pale and drawn face, he drifted off, knowing I wasn’t in the mood for his sass.
I held my empty wine glass out to Manda, and she filled it without hesitating. I twisted to face her. “He didn’t talk to you?”
I was desperate here. Completely frantic.
“No, sorry,” uttered Manda apologetically, putting a hand to my arm in consolation. She then nudged her husband.
Vander shrugged. “Didn’t say shite to me, darlin’.”
My head fell back and my face bunched in despair. “Jesus.” Putting a hand to my forehead, I smacked it, fighting tears, and spoke through gritted teeth. “Where is he?”
“Cuba.”
Dropping my hand, my eyes settled on Zep. “What?”
He cleared his throat. “He’s in Cuba.” When my lips parted and my brow knitted in query, he added, “Looking for someone.”
“How do you know this?” No offense, but, “Why would he tell you?”
But Zep kept quiet, torturing me with that intense stare of his.
My heart began to race. “Is he okay?”
Zep nodded slowly.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “You’ve spoken to him?”
An affirmative nod was all I got. Thankfully, it was all I needed, and when my body slumped and I could finally breathe again, Zep uttered, “Just trust him, okay?”
Trust him.
I was trying here. I really was.
I thought about it a long moment before taking in a deep breath, and letting out a breathy, “Yeah. Okay.”
And when I downed my entire glass of wine in one hit, nobody acted surprised.
My eyes scanned the empty driveway, wearily.
It had been three nights since Twitch had left, and although I checked my phone every few minutes, there were no calls. No text messages. Zero notifications.
My phone came up as empty as I felt.
But as exhausted as I was, I looked down at the ring on my left hand, and something inside me held onto the sliver of hope that was vying for attention.
He’s coming back. I know he is.
My heartbeat faltered.
He has to.
Walking back to my bedroom, I climbed into bed and did as I did every night.
I left a light on.
Chapter
Thirty-Six
Ling
What are you doing here, Ling Ling?
I don’t fucking know.
No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t work out what chain of events lead to me being here today, but here I was, and I couldn’t leave. Not until I saw her.
Standing in the dim coolness of the crisp April evening, I lay in wait. Watching. Waiting for a glimpse. And when she finally came into view, my brow lowered in incredulity.
“Well, fuck,” I uttered quietly.
Seriously?
Okay. So, Asya Sadik wasn’t what I expected.
I rolled my eyes in the dark, sighing in frustration.
Of course. She just had to be in a wheelchair, didn’t she? Because why not?
My lip curled.
Great. Just fucking great.
Sure, I was a monster, but even I couldn’t kill a helpless woman in a wheelchair.
No.
I couldn’t do this.
But as I moved from my shadowy hiding spot and turned to leave, the back door opened, and she stalled me with, “You just gonna stand there all night, or you coming in?”
Turning slowly, I narrowed my eyes on the willowy woman. A slow smile pulled at my lips and I looked her up and down.
She was nothing. She was vapor.
I was beautiful.
She was... sick.
I was a deadly fucking viper.
She was a deflated balloon.
My reign was real, and the terror surrounding me had grown men falling to their knees.
I glanced down at her blanket-covered lap.
She couldn’t even fall to her knees if I pushed her.
Disgust ran through me.
She was pitiful.
So why the hell did he love her enough to leave me?
My cherry-red lips split into a grin as I tilted my head, and muttered, “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to kill you?”
Her returning smirk had me marginally impressed. “Bold of you to assume I want to live.”
My brows arched, my lips pursing at the odd amount of confidence that flowed around the clearly ill woman.
Touché, bitch.
“Come in.” She wheeled herself backward into the house before turning her back on me. My, oh my. She was a daring little cunt. “I want to talk to you.”
A short moment passed before I took in a deep breath and followed her inside, closing the door behind me with my leather-gloved hands. She watched me closely as I approached. Just so we were clear on my position, I held my magnificent rose-gold .45 Glock in my hand, and when the little woman’s eyes narrowed on it, she asked, “Did my husband give you that gun?”
A slow grin stretched my lips.
Yes, he sure as shit did.
When I didn’t make to respond, she held my gaze, jerking her chin toward the pistol. “That’s my gun.” Her lips pulled into a thin smile as she shook her head and let out a humorless laugh. “He gave you my gun.” When her face fell, I felt that shit hard. Even more so when she murmured, “Fuck me, Az. You bastard.”
My heart clenched so hard it skipped a beat.
I blinked down at the beloved gift, my smile fading to black, and heard her say, “He must have really loved you.”
Yeah.
I thought so too.
Az, you fucking asshole.
Placing the tainted present on the counter, I sat on the stool and threw her an expression of pure frustration. “You’d think so, yet—” My tone was bleak. “—he came home to you every single night, even when I’d beg him to stay.” My shoulders jerked. “He was cruel. He shouldn’t have let me love him like that.” My throat thickened with emotion. “And I did. I loved him so much.”
“To death, it would seem,” she responded quietly.
I would never admit it, but I could see why Az loved his wife. Asya Sadik had a confidence to her that would have made her a great leader. Maybe, in a different world, under different circumstances, we would have liked each other.