Page 18 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

Chapter Seventeen

I was supposed to go out tonight, but after dropping that bombshell on Antonia, I decided to stay in. Told Louie I couldn’t make it. Antonia and Jazzy are in the living room playing a board game while I cook dinner. Spaghetti. Jazzy loves pasta.

My phone vibrates on the counter. Seeing it’s one of my tech guys I have looking into the CCTV footage of Antonia’s lecture hall, I swipe the answer button.

“What have you got?” I ask him.

“Found her. Got facial recognition running now. We should have her identity in a couple of hours.”

“Good. Keep me posted,” I say before cutting the call. I suspect that Penelope is not her real name, which is why I can’t fucking find the woman or remember ever meeting her.

I don’t know what to think about the fact that she was watching Antonia.

It’s fucking creepy. Antonia thinks it’s harmless, nothing more than a mother wanting to make sure her daughter was with good people.

If the woman was that concerned about Jazzy, she would have contacted me when she found out she was pregnant.

I would have helped her. She wouldn’t have wanted for anything and neither would my daughter.

I’ve lost almost seven years of her life.

I didn’t get to see all her first steps, hear her first words.

It pisses me off. I did find some baby albums in the trailer.

I scoured them, looking for an image of her mother, but they were full of Jazzy alone.

The few times she has spoken about her mother, she’s said nice things.

Happy memories. I don’t think the woman mistreated her at all.

After dishing up three plates of pasta, I head out to the living room. “Dinner is ready!” I announce.

“Yes! It smells so good, Carlo,” Jazzy says, running into the dining room.

“Who’s winning?” I ask Antonia.

“She is,” Antonia grumbles. I smirk. I remember how much of a sore loser my wife used to be. It’s why she doesn’t gamble. She can’t handle losing.

“You okay?” I ask her. Today was… a lot.

“I just found out that my mother is alive and has a whole other family. Does my father know? He can’t possibly know she’s alive,” she says.

“I don’t think he knows,” I tell her. “The guy who—well, he didn’t work for your father.”

“Right.”

“Are we okay?” I was hoping that finding out the whole cheating thing wasn’t real would make Antonia less… guarded around me.

“I don’t know,” she says. “It doesn’t matter whether you cheated or not. You ripped out my heart, Carlo. Tore it to shreds and never bothered to try to fix it. I can’t just move on from that pain. From the reality I have been living with for years.”

“I’m fixing it now.”

“What if it’s too late?” Antonia asks.

“It’s not.” I take her hand and pull her against me, wrapping my arms around her.

“I love you. I will do whatever it takes to earn your trust back. I just need you to give this a chance, a real chance. Not because you have to, but because you want to.” My lips press against her temple, and I breathe in her scent.

“I’ll try,” she whispers.

“Thank you.” That’s all I can ask for. I grab her hand and tug her into the dining room. “Come on, let’s eat before it goes cold.”

I left Jazzy and Antonia asleep in our bed. I guess that’s becoming a thing now. Gotta admit it’s an upgrade from the floor.

Right now, I’m sitting in my office, reading through the email my tech guy just sent through.

Name: Wendy Penelope Cruz

Age: Twenty-five

Current address: Unknown

There’s a photo of her, but I don’t need it. I know who she is. Why the hell didn’t I make the connection sooner? Wendy was one of my foster sisters. We fooled around a few times as teens. But then she was moved to a different home, and I never saw her again.

At least now I can say that I know who she is. I don’t need to have my daughter growing up thinking I don’t know her mother. We were just kids ourselves. I don’t know why she wouldn’t have come to me for help. Sure, I didn’t have as much as I do now. But she’s had years to come to me.

I run her name through hospital databases. If Wendy’s sick like Antonia thinks she is, something has to come up. Her medical records or something.

Is that why she left Jazzy with me? She’s too sick to care for her?

The letter said she can’t look after our daughter anymore. I took that as meaning she couldn’t be bothered, not that she couldn’t do it physically.

Letting the program run, I get up and go back to bed.

I stare down at the two figures sprawled out under the covers.

Jazzy is on one side with Antonia’s arm around her.

I climb in behind my wife. I haven’t told Louie or Sammie about the messages she’s been getting.

I need to find out who the fuck that is too.

I’m so fucking tired. I need to sleep first. Tomorrow, I will figure it out. Whatever it takes, I will protect these girls. Nothing is going to take either of them away from me.

“Who the fuck was sending this?” Louie asks, looking at the screenshot of the text messages. “And what do they think they have?”

“No idea. The number was blocked. I’ve given our tech guy Antonia’s phone and he’s going to try to track down the user.”

“We should text it back. Make it look like she’s changed her mind and wants to meet them,” Sammie says.

“I’m not using my wife as fucking bait,” I growl.

“I’m not suggesting that. Just text and get a meetup location,” he says.

“Not the worst idea. Could be a quick way to draw them out,” Louie agrees.

“None of this can get back to her.” I point at them. “I don’t want her doing anything stupid to try to help.” I know Antonia. She will go and meet them just to find out who they are and report back. She’ll put herself in harm’s way if she thinks it’s for the greater good.

“Okay. Keep me updated when you find out who sent those messages. We might not even need to bother with organizing a meetup,” Louie says.

“Sure thing, boss.” I stand and go over to the sofa. “Also, stop buying my daughter shit. There isn’t a house big enough in this state to stock it all,” I tell them before I pull the headphones off Jazzy’s head. “You ready to go?” I ask her.

“Uh-huh.” She nods and hands me her iPad. I pop it into her bag, before throwing the pink strap over a shoulder, and take her hand in mine. “Bye, Uncle Louie and Uncle Sammie.”

“Catch you later, princess,” Louie says.

“I’ll walk out with you. Boss, don’t work too hard.” Sammie pushes to his feet and follows Jazzy and me out the door. “You know we’ve got that charity gala next week,” he says.

“What’s the charity?” I ask him.

“Some animal shelter thing. I don’t know.” He shrugs.

“You taking Lailani?”

“No.” He shakes his head.

I’m about to ask him why not when I hear the sound of tires screeching.

I turn and come eye-to-eye with the barrel of a semi-automatic hanging out of the passenger-side window of a beat-up sedan.

I grab Jazzy, throwing her to the ground, and cover her body with mine.

I hear shots being fired from above us. When I look up, I see Sammie is shooting back at a car as it’s speeding away.

“Get the plate?” I ask him.

“Yep.”

I stand and pull Jazzy to her feet with me. I scan her body. She appears okay. Except she’s silent, hasn’t said a word or made a peep. “Jazzy? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She shakes her head. “I’m okay, Daddy,” she says.

My heart stops. That’s the first time she’s called me that. She always says Carlo or refers to me as her daddy when talking about me, but never has she called me Daddy directly.

Shit. I pull her against my chest. “I’m sorry that happened.”

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m okay. Let’s get you home.” I pick her up and set her down in the back of our car before climbing in after her.

Sammie jumps into the front passenger seat. “I’m coming,” he says, and then the driver pulls into traffic.