Submitting in Vegas: (Vegas Morellis, #3)

by Sam Mariano

  Rafe stops in front of me, opens up the box so I can see inside. I don’t look. I already know what’s inside. Shame wraps around me like a blanket, and I look up at Rafe instead, my eyes pleading.

  “Please let me explain.”

  As coldly as if I’m a stranger, Rafe tosses the book shaped lock box on my bed and demands, “Are you a cop, Virginia?”

  32

  Virginia

  I shake my head vehemently, looking up at Rafe, desperate for him to believe me. “No. I’m not a cop. I swear to God, I’m not a cop.”

  “You’re not FBI?”

  “I’m not FBI,” I promise him. “I’m a waitress, Rafe. That’s it. Just a waitress.”

  He jerks his gaze at the open lock box on the bed next to me, so I follow his gaze. It was unlocked and opened when he tossed it, so all the contents are spilling out all over his bedding like the filthiest of secrets. “Why would a waitress do all that?” he asks.

  I look past him at Adrian, then back to Rafe hesitantly. I need to get him to do me a favor. Something small. I need to stay alive long enough to explain myself, and in order to do that, I need him to remember some kind of fondness for me. Some kind of good will.

  Swallowing and looking up at him, I ask, “Can I... can you get me a shirt or something to cover up? I’m practically naked.”

  “No,” he answers coldly. “Answer my fucking question.”

  “I know this looks bad,” I tell him. “But Rafe, it’s not what it looks like.”

  “No? ‘Cause it looks like you’re a fucking rat. It looks like you’ve been gathering evidence against my family, using your position in my life and in my restaurant to eavesdrop. When my men think they can have their fucking guards down, when they think they’re among friends, it looks like you’re recording every fucking move they make. You have an eidetic memory, Virginia?”

  I look down at the floor, swallowing. “It’s… that’s what I called it when I told Laurel. Technically, eidetic memory isn’t like a diagnosable thing, but…”

  “But you remember everything,” he states. “Every fucking thing. You remember every word I’ve ever said to you, don’t you?”

  I nod slowly. “Yes.”

  “And my men?”

  I nod again.

  “Sin. You have enough evidence locked away in your head—if not your fucking apartment—to put him away, don’t you?”

  I wish I could lie, but that won’t help, and I don’t want to get in even more trouble. I nod stiffly, but this time I meet his gaze. “But I would never do that, Rafe. I would never do that to you. I swear to God. I don’t have any evidence anywhere outside of my head about you guys, and no one can see inside my head. No one knows what I know.”

  Shaking his head, looking at me like I’m a stranger, he says, “You don’t have any evidence outside your head? You have tapes, Virginia. You have fucking tapes of us.”

  The betrayal on his face breaks my heart. I wish I could rewind to this morning and set the goddamn tapes on fire. Burn down the whole apartment. I swallow past a lump in my throat, tears burning behind my eyes.

  “I know I did. But they’re from years ago, Rafe. Check the dates. Half the people on those tapes are dead now. They’re from before I knew you. I mean, I knew who you were, I knew who your family was, but I didn’t know you as a person. It was before you helped me with Nate. I swear to God, Rafe, I never collected evidence after that.” Looking over at the pile, I rush to explain. “I fished that paper out of Ben’s pocket one night at the restaurant. He was drinking a lot and everyone was boisterous, and I dropped a napkin on the floor. When I bent down to grab it, I saw the end of a piece of paper in Ben’s jacket pocket, and I just… I took it. And then I went and checked out all the places, I researched all the people. I did do that, but it was before. You weren’t even there that night, and—”

  “Why?” he barks.

  “Because I did want to join the FBI,” I blurt. “I did, that’s what I went to school for. When I researched how best to get in, I talked to a retired FBI agent and he told me they love to see law school. So, I went to law school, and yes, I originally started working at the restaurant to get close to your family, but it wasn’t you in charge then, Rafe, it was Ben. I didn’t want to take you down; I wanted to take Ben down. He was a horrible man.”

  “We’re all horrible men,” Rafe says, looking at me with something so close to hatred, I want to die. “You hid your disgust well though, I have to fucking hand it to you. You deserve a standing ovation. I’ve known some liars in my day, Virginia, but you take the fucking cake. You were devoted to your performance, and I fucking believed it. I believed every word. You know what? I think you’re even better than Cassandra was. Congratu-fucking-lations.”

  Tears blur my vision and I blink them away, shaking my head. “No. Rafe, no. Please don’t compare me to her. Please don’t think that. I wasn’t lying to you. Nothing between us was a lie.”

  His eyes widen. “Are you fucking kidding me, Virginia? Everything was a lie. I don’t know who you are!”

  He screams that last part, and I flinch. Ordinarily Rafe is in control of his emotions, so I’ve never heard him scream before. Fear races through my veins, because that’s a bad sign. That’s a very bad sign. Not just for his emotional well-being, but for my chances of survival. I’m in more danger now than I have been before, and I don’t know how to get out of it. Telling him the truth is pissing him off, and anything I say to enrage him further puts me in even greater danger.

  “Yes, you do,” I tell him quietly, trying not to engage and let him escalate things. “I’m the woman who loves you. Whether you believe it or not. I would never hurt you. I would never—”

  He cuts me off, coldly mocking, “Oh, the woman who would never—never what, Virginia? Never fucking collect evidence against me and my family?”

  “I’m so sorry I did that, but I told you, it was something I did years ago. I never even think about it anymore. You can ransack my whole apartment if you want to, you won’t find more. As long as I’ve worked for you, do you really think the only reason I don’t have anything more recent is because I never had the chance? I know this must sting, and I am so sorry for that, but think about it logically. I have had a thousand chances to betray you, Rafe. I haven’t, because I don’t do things to intentionally hurt you. I do everything in my power to protect you. I am loyal to you. I have always been loyal to you. I turned my back on my own principles out of loyalty to you.”

  He steps closer and grabs my chin, forcing my gaze to his. “You chose me?”

  “Yes,” I swear, vehemently.

  “You turned your back on working for the other side?”

  His tone is so even, I know this is a trap, but I answer anyway. “Yes.”

  He nods slowly, three times, then asks simply, “Then why do you still have the tapes, Virginia? The pictures? Ben’s notes? If you picked a side, if you picked my side, why did you hold onto evidence that could hurt me?”

  Swallowing, I hold his gaze, but I don’t know what to say to that. I don’t have a good answer. I don’t have a good answer because even though my heart was on his side, my life was on pause. I was trying to avoid firmly deciding.

  Because I hadn’t firmly decided, but… but I would have. I know I would have. I was just putting it off. I never would have hurt him.

  I just don’t know how to make him believe that, because the only evidence of my claims is locked away inside my head, inside my heart, and the physical evidence, the evidence he can see… it’s so damning.

  I should have destroyed the tapes. Obviously I didn’t think he would ever go through my home, and I don’t even think about the tapes anymore, but I should have. They’ve just been there so long, it was like keeping a box of belongings from high school and never thinking to go through it.

  “I think it’s because you never picked a side,” he says softly, dangerously. “I think it’s like you said before—you were torn between following your pass
ion, and following your wallet. Maybe even your pussy,” he adds, crassly. “I paid you well to be my whore, didn’t I? It was a pretty good gig, wasn’t it? Kept you well-pleasured, plus you made, what, thirty-five grand just to fuck me for a few days? You could have your college loans paid off in no time with paydays like that.”

  A lump of humiliation slides down my throat, followed by a river of anger. I know he’s hurt, but that he’s denigrating our time together like this rips open a hole in my heart.

  He doesn’t mean it, I tell myself. He’s just angry. Hurt. Betrayed.

  As much as I know logically I need to defend myself, my heart shuts down, pulls the curtain. It decides it needs to protect itself, because he’s just going to do more damage otherwise. I don’t want to talk to him when he’s like this.

  “I would never hurt you,” I say again, staring at his chest since he’s still holding my chin, but I can’t meet his gaze. “I know how it looks, I do. I know I made a mistake, and I am so sorry you found out, but not because I was going to do anything with it. Only because it hurts you, and I never wanted to do that. I am not lying to you, Rafe. I’m sorry.”

  He listens to all my words, but judging by the look in his dark eyes, I don’t think he believes them.

  “What was it you said to me the other night?” he asks, releasing my jaw and taking a step back. “Something like, you weren’t sure how much more you could take? That’s what you were waiting for, isn’t it? You play at being loyal, but you just wanted to take a walk on the wild side with a safety net below you. You served my other women for years, and you wanted to know what you were missing. You wanted to try it, you wanted to court danger, you wanted to play with the big boys, but you knew it wouldn’t end well. You knew it would crash and burn, and then you could run right back to the straight and narrow. Once I fucked it up, then you could feel justified in turning on me. You could fuck around with the bad guy, then return home to the good side like some fucking prodigal daughter. That’s why you kept the evidence, Virginia. Maybe you didn’t plan to use it while you were still having fun, but when the ride was over, oh, would you look at that? Now you can make me pay. Now you can have your revenge. Now you can collapse a fucking empire because a gangster dumped you. Aren’t you a fucking badass?”

  I shake my head, looking down at the ground. “What you just described is the opposite of loyalty, and it is not me at all. You know that. I refuse to believe you think so little of me. If that’s what you think…” I trail off, shaking my head.

  “You made me think that,” he states. “Sorry, Virginia, but ride-or-dies don’t keep evidence just in case it all goes bad.”

  “That is not…” I shake my head, weight down with guilt and frustration that he’s interpreting my actions so wrongly. “That was never my motivation. You’re making it mean because that was your experience before, but that isn’t me. I’m the woman who takes care of you afterward, not the woman who betrays you and breaks your heart.”

  “You were,” he says simply, hammering a new crack into my breaking heart. It’s all I can do to keep the tears at bay, so I fall silent, unwilling to invoke more damage.

  I’m out of my depths with him now, and I don’t know what to do.

  This isn’t the Rafe I’ve joked around in bed with, or the Rafe who tenderly caressed my face—the Rafe with affection for me.

  This is the Rafe who runs a mob family, the Rafe that Cassandra betrayed. The Rafe who won’t let that happen again, even if ensuring that it doesn’t means rewriting our history and turning me into a villain. Justifying his treatment of me and his deepest fears all in one fell swoop.

  This Rafe is not my friend or my lover.

  This Rafe views me as an opponent, not an ally.

  And this Rafe doesn’t intend to be defeated—not even by the truth.

  I am fucked. Well and truly fucked.

  Adrian steals Rafe’s attention away from me momentarily, moving up beside him and murmuring lowly that my phone is clean, but someone keeps texting me.

  Felix.

  Oh, no. Felix, stop texting me! Rafe walks over to me, holding the phone up in front of my face. There are six more messages since the last one I didn’t answer.

  “I take it this is your buddy, Felix?”

  I nod my head. “I told you I was on my way to the restaurant when you…”

  When he tricked me. I don’t say that.

  Rafe hands the phone back to Adrian. As he does, he tells him, “I’m gonna need you to look into him, too. He started texting her about some emergency shortly after you stopped at the restaurant to check the tapes. If he recognized you…”

  Adrian nods his head, filling in the blanks. “A random local wouldn’t. I’ll check him out.”

  The bedroom door opens again, and this time Sin walks in. He glances at me on the bed with my hands cuffed, but his face betrays no emotion. I don’t know why that makes my stomach sink. Well, I guess I do.

  I’ve lost all my friends in the space of a few minutes, and if these guys aren’t your friends, they make very dangerous enemies.

  Now Sin comes over and stands beside Rafe. Rafe gestures to me and says, “Virginia has a veritable database of Morelli crime in her head. I have to assume she has more dirt on you than any of us.”

  Sin nods once, his lips thinning. “She does. Probably a lot more. I didn’t know.”

  “I know.”

  “I really fucked this one up,” Sin states.

  Smiling faintly, Rafe glances over at his friend. “Hey, I brought the curse of Cassandra Carmichael on us. We all get one fuck-up, right?”

  Adrian steps forward and stands beside them, looking at me, but not like a person. Like a problem. “She’s dangerous,” he says. “Even if she’s not a cop, she’s dangerous.”

  I shake my head, looking down at my bound wrists. “No, I’m not.”

  “She could be useful,” Adrian offers, in fairness. “Her brain is a unique tool, but you’d have to be able to trust her. Honestly, I’ve been burned too many fucking times trusting people. Considering she went so far as to collect evidence against you, I’d probably handle this the old-school way, if I were you.”

  “It’s really the only way, isn’t it?” Rafe murmurs.

  I don’t need him to tell me what that means. It’s pretty clear. It’s clear even before he walks back over to me and runs his index finger down the column of my throat, mirroring an action that once was tender, but this time his brown eyes are cold.

  “I have to kill you, Virginia,” Rafe says, simply.

  33

  Virginia

  Rafe leaves me in his bedroom with Adrian on guard. He and Sin leave the room to discuss… well, to discuss my inevitable murder.

  Clearly, I should have gone to the restaurant to see what the emergency was.

  I look over at Adrian and consider the timing of Felix’s text. Given the scarring on the left side of Adrian’s face, he is one of the more distinctly recognizable Morelli associates—but in order to recognize him, Felix would have to know he’s a Morelli associate. Adrian has never worked in Vegas. I knew about him because I made Rafe’s family my hobby, but a Vegas-based bartender shouldn’t do that much homework.

  I really hope Felix isn’t a cop.

  He is sharp, clearly capable of doing more, and he did come back to work at the restaurant even after Rafe pulled a gun on him. I thought it was my cajoling that brought him back, but maybe he needed to stay close to Rafe.

  “Did you go to the restaurant alone?”

  Adrian glances over at me, but doesn’t answer.

  “Rafe said you went to the restaurant to check the tapes. Did you take any of Rafe’s guys in with you, or did you go alone?” He still doesn’t answer, so I add, “Come on, what harm could I possibly do with this information?”

  Finally, he says, “Rex went in with me.”

  I exhale a breath of relief. That’s much more comforting. Felix knows Rex works for Rafe right now, so maybe he recognized R
ex, not Adrian. Maybe he could tell something was wrong, and since Rex was supposed to be guarding the birthday party, he shouldn’t have been at the restaurant. I work at the restaurant. It’s not an impossible leap that I was connected to whatever they were checking out, and even if he didn’t know that, maybe he just noted that Rex and another hardened associate showing up to investigate a problem might indicate something going on at the party, and Felix wanted to get me out of there. Maybe he didn’t know I was in danger from Rafe, he just felt there might be danger at the party, and he wanted to save me from it.

  “When did you start looking into me?” I ask. “Was it after Laurel told you about my memory at the table?”

  He doesn’t answer, but I take that as a yes.

  “You unraveled my whole life in the space of a couple hours, while attending a party. You must be pretty good.”

  Now Adrian cracks a smile and looks over at me. “I am. Want to offer me a job?”

  I stare down at the cuffs around my hands. “I’m not a cop, Adrian. Unless you have a desire to wash dirty dishes left behind by Vegas tourists, I can’t offer you a job.”

  He doesn’t talk to me after that, but I don’t really expect him to. He could, if he cared about this, but he doesn’t. The man was trying to take a weekend off to enjoy a birthday party, and instead he’s spent the whole time working for a branch of the family he’s not even beholden to. His life—his job—is in Chicago and he doesn’t even like Rafe. He only noticed me sticking out like a sore thumb and investigated because he couldn’t help it. Because that’s who he is.

  I bet I could do what he does. I do very good research. I don’t foresee Rafe deciding to trust me with more of his family’s misdeeds though. Not after this. It’s foolish to imagine any other end than the one he’s already told me I’ll get.

  Considering the extremely limited number of hours that I probably have left to live is too frightening, so I escape into the past. I escape into my happy memories and stay there until there’s a gentle knock on the door.