Sinning in Vegas

by Sam Mariano

  I let Rafe leave.

  As soon as he’s gone, I text Sin. Not a plea this time, just a simple, “I miss you.”

  “I miss you too,” he sends back. “I know today is hard. I’m sorry.”

  His unsolicited second text makes me tear up. It’s not like I can stop thinking about all this for a single second anyway, but every time he says something that verifies his plan is still on, it hurts. I want him to change his mind. I want my sadness to matter, I want my will to make a difference. Maybe it’s unreasonable. Maybe there’s more to the story that I don’t know about, and this really is the only way. I just wish I felt sure of that. I wish he had time to explain to me every facet of this situation, then maybe I could get on the same page. Maybe then I would see there is no alternative, and that for whatever reason, the future I want cannot happen.

  There is no more time, though. Sin is surely busy setting up whatever he has planned, and he doesn’t need me in his head distracting him.

  So, instead of dumping more of my feelings on him, I text back something that will make at least one of us feel a little better.

  “It’s okay. I trust you.”

  To my surprise and confusion, Rafe comes home. It’s dinnertime and I hope my confusion isn’t plain to see, but when Rafe strides through the archway connecting the foyer and the living area, my heart nearly drops out of my body.

  I didn’t expect him to come home.

  I set aside my book and rise from the couch, hesitantly following him into the kitchen where Juanita has already started preparing dinner. He must have let her know he was on his way. Nothing is cooking yet, she’s still chopping and washing vegetables, so I hadn’t realized she was in here making dinner. Since Rafe’s schedule is irregular, she usually waits to hear from him. I should have noticed that, but in a desperate attempt to get out of my own head, I thought I could immerse myself in a novel.

  Since I’m not sure how to ask why he’s here, I go instead with, “How was your day?”

  “Fine,” he returns with an easy smile. He peels off his jacket and drapes it over the back of his chair at the island, then starts to loosen his tie.

  “Are you home for the rest of the night?” I ask.

  “Yep, all yours tonight. We should go for a swim after dinner. It’s nice outside.”

  Why is this day just like any other? This is The Bad Day. Something terrible was supposed to happen. Why didn’t it?

  Oh, my God. What if it did? What if he handled it? What if I wasn’t being paranoid this morning and Rafe did know what was happening? I didn’t warn him, bad Laurel, but he handled it anyway and now he’s going to ignore it?

  Filled with a sudden, claustrophobic need to hear from Sin, I excuse myself to the bathroom and claw my phone out of my pocket. My fingers shake as I open up the text message chain between us. I don’t even know what to say, I just need to know he’s all right.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask.

  Then I wait. He has been responding pretty promptly, but after two minutes that feel like two hours, I want to throw up.

  I text again. “Rafe just came home. He said he’s home for the night. Is everything okay?”

  No response. I wait as long as I can without arousing Rafe’s suspicion, and he never texts me back. My heart stutters in my chest, dread filling every part of me. I’ve been so worried about protecting Rafe, I wasn’t worried enough about Sin. I expected that if he had a plan, it would work. I expected that if he planned to take down Rafe, he would.

  What if I was wrong?

  What if Sin tried and failed?

  Oh, my God.

  How in the hell will I find out?

  My poor stomach is a jumble of nerves when I rejoin Rafe in the kitchen. He looks up as soon as I enter the room, his gaze lingering on me. “You all right?”

  I nod my head, trying to think of what to ask. I don’t want to set off any alarms in case Sin hasn’t acted yet, but if something went wrong, I have to know. I know absolutely nothing about Sin’s plan though, so I don’t even know what to ask. I can’t ask if he has seen Sin today, because Sin is obviously a sore subject. I have no idea if anyone else is involved.

  In the dark, that’s where Sin wanted to keep me, and that’s right where I am.

  Someone needs to drop me a flashlight, because this fucking sucks.

  Sin’s face flashes to mind. A memory of him in bed with me yesterday, my naked body snuggled up against his. A searing vision of how powerful he looked standing above me in the shower, my wrists trapped in his cuffs.

  My eyes sting and even though I’m in the kitchen and Rafe is standing right in front of me, I pull my cell phone out to see if Sin texted me back. Still nothing.

  Rafe’s gaze drops to my phone, then comes back to my face and he lifts an eyebrow. “What are you doing?”

  “I don’t know,” I murmur, suddenly overwhelmed. This is all too much. I want the most stressful thing in my life to be finals week, not a possible showdown between my two most recent lovers that has to result in one of their deaths.

  I shove the phone back in my pocket and leave the room. I can’t be around Rafe right now. Even if he felt like boasting now, even if he would tell me exactly how his day went, I don’t think I have the emotional capacity left to handle it.

  42

  Laurel

  The rest of the day passes by in a slog. A foggy slog. Sin never texts me back, and Rafe never expands on how his day went. It feels like verification that everything that could go wrong in my world has, and I don’t want to face it anymore.

  I don’t know if Sin played and lost, but I know I feel defeated. All I want to do is cry, so I spend as much of the evening alone as I can. I take a bath instead of a shower. I can cry alone in the bath tub. I check my phone obsessively for something, anything from Sin. If he’s okay, I don’t understand why he isn’t texting me back.

  Day turns to night and I feel sicker and sadder than at any other point today. I am exhausted from dealing with all my emotions, but if tomorrow comes and I still haven’t heard from Sin, I guess I’ll just ask. Maybe he’ll disappear just like Marlena did. Maybe I’ve said the last words I’ll ever get to say to him.

  I can’t keep tears from welling up and spilling down my face.

  I can’t live this life. If Rafe killed Sin, I’m calling Mia for sanctuary. I won’t be able to bear being with Rafe, knowing what he did. I know Mia will protect me. I don’t know why I’m so sure, but I know she will. Carly says she protected Vince from Mateo, and everyone who knows more about their story than I do insists Vince wronged her horribly.

  I’ve never done anything bad to her, and when I tell her what Rafe did, she’ll understand why I can’t be with him.

  As soon as I know for sure, I’m getting the fuck out of this godforsaken town. I’ll never step foot here again.

  Since Rafe has already been tried and found guilty in my mind, I can’t bear to be around him. I have to be for tonight, just until The Bad Day is over, just until I can be sure about what happened, but I don’t have to like it.

  He went for a swim without me since I hibernated inside, and now he sits next to me on the couch with damp hair, a pair of gray sweats slung low on his hips. If he notices how crabby I am tonight—especially juxtaposed with how caring I was this morning—he doesn’t mention it.

  I’m a ball of resentment curled up on my side of the couch, as far away from him as I can be when there’s not so much as an empty cushion between us. I’m angry at him and angrier at myself. I can’t keep checking my phone in front of him, but I wait for it to vibrate in my pocket. It just never does.

  We’re both stunned when Sin comes strolling in from the kitchen. For a split second, my heart stops, then fills up with joy. He’s alive. Rafe didn’t kill him.

  My joy crashes a moment later when I realize that means he’s here for Rafe, and I have been mean to Rafe all night long because I thought he had outsmarted Sin.

  I don’t know if it’s the fact
that Sin entered through the back door, my general weirdness over the past day, or pure instinct, but Rafe knows this isn’t a normal visit.

  The back door isn’t normally unlocked, but then Rafe doesn’t normally go for a swim. Sin’s presence in Rafe’s living room isn’t normally anything to get worked up over, but today we all know why he’s here.

  Rafe lunges forward, reaching under the table.

  Sin draws his gun and says, “Laurel, move.”

  I can’t even breathe, adrenaline is rushing through my body so violently. I try to comply quickly, clumsily uncurling my legs and going to move off the couch, but before I can, Rafe’s arm locks around my neck and he yanks my body back against him like a shield. He had a gun stashed under the coffee table and he has it now, but instead of training it on Sin, he points the weapon at my temple.

  “Take another fucking step, Sin. I dare you.”

  My eyes bulge out and I claw at Rafe’s arm locked around my neck, trying to get him away from me.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Sin demands lowly.

  “If you’re not sure, take another step and find out,” Rafe says calmly.

  Sin doesn’t move.

  “This is disappointing,” Rafe states, almost casually. “All the way around. I’m disappointed in both of you.”

  I’m so angry at myself for being so worried about him, I want to claw his face off. I know my anger won’t help anything, but Rafe is so calm, I want to kill him. “Fuck you,” I spit.

  “Now, now, we’ll get to that later,” Rafe assures me, then he kisses the side of my face just to be a dick.

  An idea occurs to me out of nowhere. I’m not sure from where, I have no idea if I can pull it off, or if it will work, but what do any of us have to lose at this point?

  “Not you,” I practically growl, jabbing a finger at Sin. “Him.”

  Up until now, Sin was vibrating with anger. His eyes were cold, his lip was curled with dislike, but now he blinks in real surprise. “Me?”

  “I have been texting you all goddamn day. I thought you were dead.”

  Sin stares at me for a second, then says, “This isn’t really the time, Laurel.”

  “I’m sick of both of you playing with my emotions,” I rage. “Enough is enough.”

  As calmly as ever, Rafe tells me, “This isn’t going to work, kitten.”

  “You’re not going to work,” I shoot back. “I’m done with both of you assholes. I’ve got news for you, I’m going back to Chicago and I’m never coming back. You don’t think your men would respect you if you let me be with your enforcer, just wait. See how impressed they are when you can’t keep me here even without competition. They’re going to laugh at you when you can’t even get me back from your own cousin. Mia will protect me, Mateo won’t let you have me back, then they’ll realize how powerless you really are. They’ll know what a fucking shitty ass boss you are—”

  His arm tightens around my throat, momentarily stealing the breath from lungs and the angry words from my mouth. “If your strategy right now is to remind me why I don’t want to shoot you, you’re doing a very poor job.”

  “Go ahead and shoot me,” I tell him. “Then Sin will kill you and maybe a real boss can take over Vegas.”

  Instead of responding to my anger, Rafe just chuckles. “Your claws are adorable, kitten. Ineffective, but adorable. Is that as mean as you can get? I can get a lot meaner,” he promises. “Want me to show you?”

  Dread consumes me at the thought of how mean he could get. I’m not worried he would be mean to me, but now I know Sin has some tender spots and Rafe surely knows about them, too.

  My mind races, desperately grabbing for words to throw against the wall. I don’t know where any of Rafe’s weak spots are—

  Oh wait. Yes, I do.

  “That’s why Cassandra left you, you know.” His arm tightens even more, but I keep going. “She knew you were weak. Look at this, you can’t even take Sin on man-to-man, you have to use me as your human shield. That’s pathetic, Rafe. No wonder she couldn’t get wet for you anymore.”

  Even Sin cringes when I add that last part, so I know I’m hitting the right spot.

  I can’t see Rafe’s face. I wait to hear fury in his tone when he speaks. He’s quiet for several long, silent beats, then he asks calmly, “Are you done trying to goad me, Laurel? If not, keep going. I’ll wait.”

  I’m so mad that my words didn’t work, I do the only thing I can think of. Rafe has one arm locked around my neck and one hand on the gun. Since he doesn’t have a third arm, he can’t move quickly enough to stop me.

  I reach back and punch him in the dick.

  He grunts like he just got the air knocked out of him, then growls into my ear, his body hunching over mine. “That was fucking mean.”

  “I hate you,” I inform him.

  “So I’ve fucking heard,” he mutters, dragging me off the couch. He keeps an eye on Sin as he drags me around the coffee table, but now that he’s experiencing so much physical discomfort, he is less gentle with me. Less patient. As I’m scrambling for what to try next, Sin catches my attention.

  His head falls back briefly and he mutters a low, angry, “Motherfucking fuck.” Raising his gun, he points it at a spot beyond me. It’s beyond me, but it’s not Rafe, it’s past him, too. He’s looking behind both of us, at the arch between the living room and the foyer. His voice rises with helpless anger. “I asked you to wait in the fucking car. I’m so fucking sorry for this, Virginia.”

  Then he fires his gun.

  “No!” Rafe lets me go and turns to lunge, as pointless a gesture as it is. He freezes, his gaze dropping to the ground, but she’s not there.

  I barely get out of the way before Sin attacks him. I stumble back, then kick into gear and run. My legs shake, but they carry me into the next room. Breath bursts in and out of my lungs as I run to the armoire and rip the door open. There are so many weapons in here, some I can’t even name, but I don’t know how to use any of them. There are guns, but they’re probably not loaded. I pull open a drawer and find plenty of ammunition, but I don’t know which bullets even go to which gun. I don’t know how to load them, or how to check if any are loaded. Fuck.

  There are simpler weapons hanging on the door—probably more for décor than any practical reason, since I can’t exactly see Rafe brandishing a sword for real combat.

  He has swords in this armoire. Jesus Christ. This whole thing would have had to go before the baby learned to crawl. This is just a cabinet full of danger.

  Focus, Laurel!

  I go to lift one of the swords, but I’m taken off guard by how heavy the damn thing is. I’m not going to be able to swing this with confidence, I’m going to be clumsy and he’ll get the damn thing away from me if it comes down to it.

  All right, you know what, the sword is big, but bigger isn’t always better. A small blade can be just as effective as this monster. If I slip a knife between his ribs, that’ll hurt just as much.

  The gun would be much easier, but even if I figure out how to load it right and don’t shoot my own face off, I’ve never fired one. I might aim for Rafe and hit Sin.

  I grab a knife. Something sharp-looking and shiny, then I close the armoire and rush back to the living room. At least for the moment, I needn’t have worried. Sin is on top of Rafe, raining punches down on him. Rafe has his arms up, trying to protect his head, but Sin is laying into him. My stomach lurches. I stay back, but my fingers flex around the handle of the knife.

  I’m hesitant to call out, not wanting to distract him, but I ask Sin, “Should I do anything?”

  “Stay the fuck out of my way,” he answers.

  Okay then, I can do that. I keep a coffee table’s length between them and me, then jump when Rafe lands a hit to Sin’s jaw. Now that he found an opening, he hits him again. Sin shifts and Rafe takes advantage, throwing him off his body and leaping to his feet with the grace of a fucking bobcat.

  Holy shit.

  Ra
fe’s ready now. Sin gets up just as quickly, lunging at Rafe, fists flying. Rafe ducks and charges Sin’s torso, forcing him back a few steps. They spin, hit, charge, it all happens at such a fast pace, I can’t keep up. I don’t know who is winning—or if anyone is winning.

  “What’s wrong, Sin?” Rafe goads, arms up, guarding his face as he moves. “Did seeing me with a gun to Laurel’s head jog a few memories?”

  Sin doesn’t respond, but he tries to hit him.

  Rafe blocks. “Did it make you think of Paula? Did it make you think of Ellie? You couldn’t save them, could you?”

  “Stop it,” I scream, glaring at Rafe.

  “You thought you were gonna get a second chance with the girl I knocked up, then, damn, you almost lost another one. You must not be a very good fucking protector, Sin.”

  Sin ignores all the bait Rafe is dangling. He ducks, charges, and sweeps Rafe’s legs, knocking him on the ground again. He’s on him fast, hitting Rafe in the face before he can get his arms up this time. His hands move so fast, even though I’m not in this fight, my heart pounds. I can’t keep track of how many times he hits him, the only reason I know to be alarmed is that Rafe stops defending himself as well as he was and now there’s blood on Sin’s fists, blood on Rafe’s face—blood all over the place. It starts to look less like a fight and more like Sin beating a human punching bag, and I recall his story about bludgeoning Paula’s lover to death. Did he use his hands? Jesus Christ, I don’t know why I assumed he used an object.

  Just in case he’s in a blind fury, I call out, “Um, I think you could probably stop and use the gun now.”

  “Ya think?” Sin asks casually, before landing another punch.

  “I think you might kill him if you keep going,” I suggest.

  “I think he held a fucking gun to your head, so the bastard gets what he gets.” He hits him again. “I don’t even fucking care anymore, I’ll call Vince up, train that little asshole to be my figurehead. I’ll run this fucking city myself. Fuck this family.”