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Chapter Twenty

JOSHUA

Maybe I should start planning for the day when she uses that butterfly knife to kill me. When she finally snaps.

I could kill her first.

The thought has no appeal anymore, though. The more I think about slitting her pretty little throat, the more my chest hurts.

Maybe I should stop following my wife around New York and hoping that one of these days she’s going to tell me the truth about everything.

A smarter man would stop and try to earn her trust even though I don’t think that’s a thing she’s willing to give anyone. I’ve seen the way she talks to her brother. She doesn’t even trust him.

Or maybe that man would be a complete fucking idiot and put his trust in the wrong person.

Skyla isn’t the most trustworthy person.

But earning her trust would be the fucking pot at the end of the rainbow.

Andrew sighs and sits down on the steps of the apartment building across the street from the laundromat. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making a mistake doing this.”

I shrug, pulling out my phone and looking at the tracking app for the bug Andrew placed on her car two days ago. “She’s going to be here soon, by the looks of things. Wouldn’t you come to a laundromat to wash the blood out of your clothing if you owned one?”

“I’m not talking about staking out her business. I’m talking about planting bugs on her and following her around. There are ways to get her to trust you enough to open up about what she’s doing. This is not one of them.”

“I went into that house after she left. She cut off his hands and put them to boil in a pot.” I tuck the phone away, stepping back into the shadows as a car that looks like hers pulls onto the far end of the street.

When the person exits the car, it’s not her, and my chest gets just that bit tighter.

Andrew shakes his head. “Okay, so that’s sick, but it’s not like you didn’t know that she kills people. You’re no better than she is.”

I grind my teeth together.

I hate it when he’s right, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Skyla is no different than I am, at the end of the day. She might be a little more brutal, but there’s something to be said about her methods.

If they work, they work.

Andrew jerks his chin in the direction of the alley. “She’s here.”

Sure enough, a car parks in the alley, and she gets out, walking down the street with a tote bag slung over one arm.

There’s a plastic bag that peeks out of the top of it while she stands beneath the neon lights, unlocking the security door.

I take off across the street, stepping into the doorway just as she turns to close the door.

Her eyes widen before she sighs and pushes the door open wider, letting me inside.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing here since I told you to stay out of my business.”

“And I don’t know why you cut off a man’s hands.”

“Don’t play stupid.” She closes up before heading to one of the washing machines. She sets her purse on top of the one beside her, hauling out the plastic bag of bloodied clothing. “You know that she killed people and left them at Aiden’s doorstep. This was nothing but payback.”

“Really?” I lean on one of the machines behind her, crossing one ankle over the other. “Because what I saw in that house seemed personal.”

“You don’t know the things her family has put mine through.”

“I’ve heard about the sleeping with each other’s family members, the alleged killing each other, alleged territory wars, the Rinaldos going into hiding and coming back.” I study her for a moment, watching for any sign that the careful mask she has in place is ready to slip.

“And that’s not even the half of it.” She opens the bag of clothing and dumps it into the machine. “If this blood doesn’t come out, that’s going to be the start of my mental breakdown.”

Is she joking?

The corner of her mouth twitches, her eyes crinkling at the very edges. She hums to herself, dumping laundry soap in—probably more than she needs—and slams the machine shut before starting it up.

Still humming, she takes the blood-stained bag to the metal garbage can in the corner, tossing it inside before wandering over to the office at the back.

I stand there, heart racing and hand hovering near my gun.

She comes back out with a bottle of lighter fluid in one hand and matches in the other. Without a word, she douses the plastic bag before striking a match and tossing it inside.

She might actually be insane.

Although, there’s something about her crazy that calls to the darkest parts of me. Like we complement each other in a weird way.

She understands me in a way that nobody else does, and I think in some ways, I understand her.

“Why were you with Logan tonight?” My hand stays near the gun as she stands there and watches the fire burn.

I don’t think I can hurt her, even if I have to, but I have no idea what is going on here.

I still watch my words, careful not to say anything damning in case the place is bugged. I wouldn’t put it past the feds to hide a few microphones in here before they gave the place back to her.

Of course, she’s smart. She probably would’ve had people sweep the building already.

It’s good to be extra careful, though.

“You told me that you were going to take care of the problem.” She looks at me, and when she does, there’s something soulless in her eyes. She doesn’t seem to care what she says or who can hear her. “But you still haven’t handled it, so I needed to figure out his routine.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to deal with him?”

She shrugs one shoulder, kicking the garbage can to the side as it continues to burn. “I’m thinking about it.”

“And if I told you not to?”

Smirking, she hauls herself up to sit on one of the tables in the little waiting area at the front. “You could try. But at the end of the day, you’re not my boss. And the issue needs dealing with.”

I stride over to her, stopping a few feet from her.

My pulse pounds in my ears.

I don’t know if the fire is making the room feel this hot or if it’s the tension that threatens to choke me.

I’m not used to feeling at a disadvantage, but right now I’m not sure if I’ve ever been the one holding the control in our relationship.

Skyla looks at me like she’s testing me, waiting to see what my next move is going to be before she reacts.

She’s cold and calculating, and though I knew that about her coming into this fake marriage, I never thought the threads of those traits would run so deep.

And that scares me a bit because one of these days, she might get tired of me and kill me.

I can see it in her eyes. She’s assessing me like a piece of meat.

The scales are weighing… Kill me and have to find another way to get revenge on Logan and copious amounts of cocaine or let me live but always be looking over her shoulder?

And even knowing she might come for me, I won’t let her go. I can’t.

Skyla runs her tongue over her bottom lip. “If you were smart, you’d be following Logan too.”

“And why is that?”

“He’s nothing but a liability to you.” She kicks one leg over the other, leaning back and bracing herself on her hands. “He’s the reason you’re going to end up dead.”

“I’m starting to think you’re the reason.”

She smirks and shrugs, leaving me feeling that much more unsettled.

This isn’t the Skyla I’m used to dealing with. The one sitting in front of me right now may as well be a stranger in some regards. She’s not even trying to act like she does at home. There’s no dancing around the subject or trying to save herself.

She’s dangerous.

The realization hits me hard.

I’ve never thought of her as dangerous, even knowing that she’s fine with killing people and getting her hands dirty.

But I’m starting to realize my life was never as at risk as it is right now. With her. And I’m not even sure I’d be mad at her if she were the one ending my life.

Skyla reaches out with her foot, pushing it lightly against my thigh. “Scared?”

“No.”

Her laugh is bone-chilling. “You should be.”

Who the fuck is this?

Before I have the chance to press her more and find out what’s going on, my phone starts ringing.

I pace away from her to answer it, but turning my back to her opens a pit in my stomach. I have no idea if at any time she might hug me from behind or plunge a knife between my shoulder blades. Maybe she’ll even do both at once.

Grady clears his throat as soon as the call connects. “Meet me at the warehouse.”

The call ends before I respond, leaving me watching Skyla from the corner of one eye as I head for the door. “I have other things to do, but this conversation isn’t over.”

Not until I figure out what the hell is wrong with her.

And worse, what the hell is wrong with me that even knowing what she is capable of, I have no desire to walk away.

Grady looks at the mountains of cocaine on the pallets before turning to me. “This marriage of yours is starting to become a problem for me. People are sniffing around and looking for information on the Vitale family.”

“Are you going to give it to them?” I step closer to the wide-open doors, shifting to the side as the pallets are brought in.

The sun crests over the horizon while people unload more pallets off the boats.

“I’ve thought about it.” Grady smirks as he stands beside me. “I know a lot about your family and all the skeletons in the closet. It’s valuable information to have.”

“Not much of it is useful these days.”

“You’re right.” He picks a brick off the top of one of the passing pallets, inspecting it before putting it back down. “You do a better job of covering your tracks than your father ever did.”

“And yet, you’re still thinking about turning what you know against me. Even when our families have been working together for so long.”

He shrugs, tucking his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “Like I’ve said. Your marriage is becoming a problem for me.”

I sigh and look up at the ceiling. “What’s it going to take for you not to fuck up my life?”

Even though I don’t want to bend to his will, there are things that could ruin the arrangement I have with the Lyndes, which would then leave me wide open for marrying Emily. Since I would rather die before allowing that to happen, it looks like I’m stuck playing Grady’s games.

Grady turns to me with a smirk. “I didn’t think you were ever going to ask.”

“Cut the theatrics. What’s this going to take?”

“You’re going to spend some time with Emily today. More time in general, but today would be a good place to start.” His grin spreads as Emily walks through the door, looking far too excited to see me.

“Yeah, I’m calling my wife.”

I turn away from him, striding several feet away and calling Skyla.

The phone rings so long that I’m sure it’s going to go to voicemail. It would be just like her to ignore me after the two of us were bickering.

Skyla sighs as soon as she picks up. “Joshua, if you want to keep arguing, you’re going to need to give me like three business days to figure out new and exciting ways to tell you that what I’m doing with my life is not your issue to deal with.”

“Cute. Love you too, honey.”

“What the hell? Why are you talking to me like that?”

“I’m almost done with that meeting with Grady.”

“Oh, I see. What does that have to do with me?”

I grit my teeth, trying to resist the urge to go home and choke the amusement out of her voice. Or maybe fuck her into submission.

I don’t know how one woman can be so damn infuriating and alluring all the time.

“I’ve got to take Emily shopping and just wanted to let you know. I’m not sure how long it will take.” I raise my voice so Grady can hear what I’m saying.

Her laughter only gets louder. “Oh, that’s cute. A little date? How sweet. Or is this more of a babysitter situation since she behaves like a damn brat?”

“I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Cool, guess there’s plenty of time for me to go take a ride or two on the ole dildo. Maybe I’ll even moan your name when I come. And as you’re at it, try to get info out of her. Have fun shopping.” She ends the call.

Great, now I’m stuck with a fucking boner and Emily Granville.

Emily swings her purse over her shoulder, nearly clobbering me for the fifth time with the damn thing since we got to the mall. “I knew you were going to come around, sooner or later.”

“Well, your father and I have been working together for a long time.” I shift the bags from one hand to the other as the cord handles start to dig into my skin. “You’re going to be taking over his business one day. Started learning the ropes?”

She shrugs, leading the way out of one store and into another that smells like the Easter Bunny’s taint. It’s a cloyingly sweet sort of smell that only comes from cotton candy and stripper glitter when they’re mixed together in one of those sick perfumes.

Maybe I should ask Skyla to kill me. It would save me from ever having to do another trip like this. And I’m sure she would make it fun for me.

Emily sighs. “Business is boring, and he keeps meeting with some guys in prison, but that’s nothing new.”

I nod.

Nothing she’s saying is useful. Not when she mentions the color of the jumpsuits or when she launches into a story about her last birthday party.

I can’t wait to tell Skyla all about this. She is going to love this when I get home. She’s going to think this is the funniest thing to have ever happened.

And then she’s going to be pissed because I’m not getting anything useful out of Emily.

Fuck.

No, wait.

Why am I looking forward to being with Skyla and laughing with her about this?

And why am I worried I might disappoint her?

I’m mad at her, aren’t I? She is keeping secrets from me.

Besides, Skyla has no right to be pissed. She isn’t the boss of me, and I would’ve been trying to get information even if she hadn’t told me to.

Falling in love and being in a real relationship sucks.

Things need to change.

I don’t know where she gets off thinking that she’s running this relationship, but it’s time to teach her a lesson.

I’m done playing Mr. Nice Guy.