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24
Emily
“He didnotkill his mom,” I say, my teeth gritted.
Victor tosses me a smug look, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans while he casually strolls down the street beside me. “Because he told you he didn’t?”
I roll my eyes and face forward, his annoying skepticism starting to get the better of me. We just did a job together, this time lifting a cell phone off a guy. Why? Who knows. Who was he? Your guess is as good as mine. But I’m not going to lie, I loved it.
Now, though, I’m wishing they’d have sent me with a different babysitter. Or given me a picture of the mark and let me do it on my own. Victor and I have been walking for about twenty minutes in downtown Las Vegas and are expecting our ride to pull up next to us at any minute. I’m guessing the mark would have recognized Victor’s car and Victor himself if he hadn’t been waiting in a cafe watching me bump into the guy dressed in a suit, briefcase in tow.
“Not going to answer me, huh?” Victor asks.
“Would you go fuck yourself, please?”
“That’s kind of an odd thing to ask of me, but if it’s important to you, we could slip into an alley and have a go. I assume you want to watch?”
My lip curls and I shake my head. “You’re disgusting.”
“I’m playful, and you like it.”
Playful. That’s what he wants to call it.
“At least tell me you’re not naive enough to notwonderif he killed her. She didn’t just disappear.”
“Sheleft. How is that not plausible? Her boyfriend and husband were both murdered. It isn’t like she was mother of the year or anything. She probably had no problem leaving her son behind.”
“Mmhmm,” he hums. I can feel his eyes when he glances at me and know if I turned to him I’d see nothing but amusement. He’s teasing me. I don’t know if he believes the story Blade gave me or not, but right now all he wants is to get under my skin, and I’m letting him.
“I know you’re just trying to work me up,” I say, my voice even. “Someone like you would know all about abandonment.”
“Someone like me?” he asks, his amusement still there, but mixed with a tinge of something else.
I don’t answer, and I try to hide my own amusement. I’m about to hit a button, I can tell.
“What do you mean ‘someone like me?’” He chuckles, but it’s forced.
I glance at him, reveling in the rigidness of his gate. His hands are no longer in his pockets, but slightly swaying at his sides.
I shrug. “You obviously have mommy issues.” I look at him with as straight a face as I can. “Don’t be embarrassed or anything. I’m not judging.”
He huffs. “Why the fuck would you think I have mommy issues? My parents were fine.”
“It’s cute when you lie.”
“I’m not lying,” he growls. His angry face makes me want to laugh so hard. I can see why he does this.
“Hm.” I nod slowly, tucking my hands into my pockets to mimic his earlier relaxed walk.
“Seriously, what are you talking about? Why do you think—”
“God, Victor, don’t get so defensive. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.” I turn to him and wink, and he stares back with murderous eyes.
He huffs again and faces forward. “Whatever.”
We walk in silence for a minute while I let him stew.
“You really want to know why it’s so obvious?”
