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What feels like hours, but is only a few seconds later, I throw open the door to the old Buick with blue and black duct tape holding up the driver’s side window and slide in, stomping the gas twice then turning the key.
It’s sputters to life, coughing and testing my fucking patience but eventually, the engine smooths and thank fuck, cool A/C blows from the vents.
The sun is just peeking up over Red Rock and for a second the world stops. I had twenty-four hours of perfection with her. She looked at me like I meant something. She played with me in the sweetest and most deviant ways without judgment. There’s no fucking way I won’t bring the most important deal of my life home. I’ve never lost anything I wanted before and I’m not going to lose the one thing I really want now.
The car heaves and lurches down Las Vegas Blvd. as I pull out my buzzing phone. It could be her, she could have gotten my number from Greg…
That bubble bursts. It’s an unknown number but I’m pretty fucking sure who it is. I’m also sure I know what he’ll be calling for. An update. I have to think fast.
“These things take time, Zeneli. You want results, you’ll leave me the fuck alone for another forty-eight hours.”
Will that be enough time to grab Hannah and get out of Vegas?
There’s a light chuckle. “Mr. Belotti… This is Bill Glover.”
I don’t have time for this. If he’s going to try to shame me over fucking mydaughteragainst the window, fuck him. Jealous motherfucker. He can go fuck himself with a scalpel.
My fingers shake as I go to end the call and hear him say, “I want to continue our conversation. I’d like for you to arrange the meeting with your people and I’ll set it up with mine. I tried to find you this morning but apparently, you left in some haste last night.”
I bring the phone back to my ear. “Yeah? Pretty sure ole Margaret there gave you an earful.”
“Made my day,” he laughs. “Made my fucking day. Mr. Belotti, I don’t care who you fuck, family or not, this is Vegas for fuck sake, but I do love that it got Margaret Malcolm’s panties in a twist. She’s a fucking pain in the ass who happened to be married to one of my best friends and my business partner. I’ve got her under control, she’ll come through with her part of the financing. I made sure I got her name on the dotted line already.”
“You want to go ahead with the deal?”
“I want my problem solved. You offer something no one else has. I don’t care where your people find their staffing, I just care that they bring it in like you said. Under budget and without the usual bullshit.”
“Done.”
“Put us all together in the same room next week. You name the place.” There’s a pause, then, “One other thing… Is Jamie really your daughter?”
That question hits me hard in the heart.
In my deviant mind, yes, she’s my daughter. She’s also going to be my wife and my fucktoy until the end of time. But, until I can get her far away from here where we can never look back and no one will ever come looking for me or mine, I need to play this out right.
“Naw. She’s nobody. Just a girl for hire. I don’t have any family. Or friends. It was all business.”
“I respect that. You played that well until you decided to nail your fake daughter up against the window.”
“Yeah, well, I live dangerously. Next week we’ll put the ink on this deal and you and my people can take it from there.”
I hang up and call Zeneli, my heart thundering with each second until he answers.
“We’re set. Next week, get your people ready. I put you guys together, what happens from there, it’s on you.”
This is it. I’ve got an ace in the hole and everything I never knew I wanted is falling into place. Now, I just have to keep Hannah on the down low until I can get us out of here. I hate that she’s suffering, thinking I was going to leave, but right now that’s working in my favor. I’ll take that flight myself, get our new life set up, fly back, finalize the deal between Glover and Zeneli, shake hands, disappear with my daughter—and her sister if she wants to come—and fucking live happily ever after in paradise.
Simple. Right?
Right?
* * *
A crackling voice on the plane’s intercom breaks through my lusty Hannah daydream. “The seatbelt sign has been turned on,” the flight attendant announces as the small commuter plane jostles in the turbulence. “Please return to your seats.”
There’s a bump and a few concerned yelps from around me but I’m focused out the window at the gray streaks of clouds. Leaving Hannah has me twisted in a way I could have never imagined before two days ago.
Eating is impossible and I thought drinking would settle me, but it only heightened the crushing fear that she’s back in Vegas alone. Sure, this is the right play, but sometimes doing the right thing is fucking hard.
