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“Watch those two for me.” I squeeze Marco’s shoulder, pointing to Sal and Ace. “I don’t want to have to buy the whole fucking casino.”
“Mm.” Marco is displeased.
Maybe deep down he misses me as his partner-in-crime. At least now he won’t make a scene about me leaving. He knows who I’m going to see.
“Everyone.” I button my suit. “Live it up. You bastards deserve it.”
“Ey!” Some drinks go up.
“Ciao, boss.”
“Later, Bull!”
“Long live the gold crew!” Sal ‘woos.’
I shrug two ladies off of me – politely of course – take my suitcase and exit with grace. Marco’s eyes are on me the whole time. He ain’t even trying to hide it.
Chapter 27
Castor
The drive back from AC was long. Gia hasn’t texted me back in hours, so I imagine she’s busy on her shift. Still, things don’t feel right. This is supposed to be a celebratory day, just like when I closed the deal with the Russians. The timing just never fucking works.
My engine growls to echo my dismay. Pulling up to Bangos makes me feel like a stalker since she’s not expecting me, and I tighten my grip around the steering wheel when I don’t see her manning her usual rotation near the left window. Maybe she’s in the back, on break. But after twenty minutes, still no sign of her.
What the hell, Gia?
I angrily pull away and head to her apartment. My nerves are starting to go haywire. The Russian’s wouldn’t… not again.
I step on the gas harder, cutting people off and ignoring the honks at my rear.
Me: Gia is everything okay? Are you at Bangos? I’m worried about you.
No time to be cryptic, so I just lay it out there. When she doesn’t respond I try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. Her voice makes my heart murmur. I miss her terribly. Fuck. Whipping the car down her street, I pull to a screeching stop in front of her apartment and leave the car double-parked with the hazards on.
The lights are off inside. Not a good sign.
I ring both bells. Top and bottom.
Where the hell are you?
My eyes brighten when I hear footsteps, then my heart sinks when I notice it’s that damn old lady making her way down the stairs. I hop off the stoop and pace, wondering where she could be.
“Hello, sir. You’re Gia’s boyfriend, right?” The woman peeks through the screen door. “Oh, you have a few cuts on your face? Is everything alright—”
“Hi, ma’am. Sorry to bother you. Have you seen her?”
“It’s no bother. Um, yes, before.”
“Was she in her work outfit?”
“Come to think of it, she wasn’t.”
“With anyone?”
“Yes, her friend. The mouthy one who wears her shorts too short.”
Yeah, I’ve seen her at the restaurant. Stacey, her friend who she ran away with when the Russians were after her.
