Page 53 of His Lair

I don’t care what I have to do. I won’t stop until I find them. Every single one of them.

Finally, something catches my eye. Not something,someone. I’m watching all the entrances and exits at Aces. I’ve had the feed up on one of the screens for a while now just to keep an eye on who comes and goes. The last person I expected to be walking into that pace is Lailani. Carlo is holed up in his apartment with Jazzy and Antonia. I don’t know why he’d be calling someone to babysit.

The only benefit of her insistence of keeping our relationship secret is that she isn’t a target. No one knows how important she is to me. Well, no one other than my mother, who hasn’t shown her face since she threatened Lailani if I didn’t show up to her fucked-up wedding. The invitation arrived in the mail the following day.

I’ve dug around looking for dirt on the fucking detective she’s marrying but he appears clean as a fucking whistle. At least on paper. How my mother got mixed up with someone like that is the real question. Also why?

I watch Lailani as she moves across the casino floor towards the elevators. “Fuck it.” I pick up the desk phone and dial her number.

“Hey.” Her voice soothes the tension in me.

“Hey yourself. What are you up to?” I ask, watching as she steps back from the open elevator doors.

“Not much. I have to work later. What are you doing?” she counters.

“At the Royal or babysitting Jazzy?”

“Royal,” she tells me.

“Where are you now? I was considering popping over?” I lie.

“I’m not there. I’m hitting the gym before my shift,” she says.

“The gym, huh?” I know Lailani is fit. I’ve touched and licked every inch of her body. She’s just never mentioned working out. “What gym? I could join you?”

“As tempting as seeing you shirtless and sweaty is, I won’t get my cardio in if you’re there,” she says. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.” I cut the call and continue to watch her.Why the fuck is she lying to me? What is she up to?

Pulling up Ace’s camera feed, I sit and wait. Lailani steps out onto the third floor and walks right into the guest gym. I shake my head. She isn’t lying. Why would she be? I know it’s cliché but my trust issues with women really do stem from watching my mother con her way through life.

I turn off the screens and stand from my desk. I can’t just sit here and watch her workout. I need to do something. I walk out of the office and message Louie.

Me:

On my way over.

Louie:

Why?

Me:

Because I need a drink. And you have the good stuff.

Louie:

We stock the same shit, idiot. See you soon.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m sitting in my friend’s office with a glass of Cinque in my hand. “You know, if you wanted to mope around, you could have done that at your place,” Louie says, watching my face.

“I’m not moping,” I grunt.

“Really? What is this that you’re doing then?” he asks me.

“Contemplating.”

“Contemplating what?”