Page 22 of His Playground (Owning Vegas #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

I ’ve been called many things over the years.

But I think my favorite has to be hearing Jazzy call me Daddy .

If you would have asked me if I wanted kids a few months ago, the answer would have been a definitive fuck no .

Now, I think she is the single most perfect thing I could have ever been given.

I haven’t left the penthouse since yesterday.

Louie and Sammie are still out, looking for the fucker who shot at me.

I’m itching to get my fucking hands on him.

I want to deliver a message to this entire city, show ?em what happens if you put my daughter in harm’s way.

Come after me all you want, but don’t fucking think you can come after my daughter.

“Daddy, are you scared?” Jazzy asks. She’s curled up on the sofa next to me, watching some princess movie while I work on my laptop. Sifting through the million fucking tasks I have going on right now. The to-do list just keeps getting longer and longer.

“Scared of what?” I ask her.

“Of dying?”

Death isn’t something that’s ever bothered me. I’ve never thought too much about it one way or the other.

“I’m not scared of dying,” I say. I am terrified of what will happen to her if I do, though.

I’m her only parent. I know what happens to kids that get put into the system.

That won’t be Jazzy’s fate. If I’m no longer around, I have no doubt Louie will take her on. I have the paperwork to prove as much.

“Mama said there’s a better place. For when we die. And that one day I’ll be able to see her again there,” Jazzy tells me.

“Do you want that?” I ask her. “To see her again?”

“She said I have to wait a really long time.”

I don’t want to shut this conversation down. It’s rare that my daughter talks about her mother, and even though I’ve found her name, I still can’t fucking find the woman herself.

“Do you know where she was going, Jazzy?” I press.

“Heaven,” she says.

Antonia said the woman looked sick. Is Wendy really dying? I need to find her before she does. I want some fucking answers.

“Do you know what was wrong with her?”

Jazzy shakes her head. “She just got sick. But that won’t happen to you too, will it?”

“I don’t think so,” I tell her.

“Okay,” she says before returning her attention to the screen.

I open my emails and send a message off to my PI, telling him to search for any Jane Does matching the description of Wendy at the morgues. I don’t know if she has anyone to claim her.

I do know that when the elevator dings, it’s Antonia. The driver informed me they were back. I hear her footsteps head down the hall towards the bedroom.

“I’m just going to talk to Antonia for a minute. You good here?” I ask Jazzy.

She nods her head, but doesn’t take her eyes off the screen.

“I’ll be in my bedroom,” I say, closing my laptop and putting it on the coffee table in front of me.

I find Antonia in the bathroom. She’s rubbing at her face with a washcloth.

“How was lunch?” I hate the fact that she went to meet with her father without me, but I also can’t risk taking Jazzy out of this penthouse yet.

“It was…” Antonia takes a deep breath before putting the washcloth down and turning around. “What do you have on my father?”

“What do you mean?” I’m going to need her to be more specific.

“I mean, my father just asked me to find something in your possession. A thumb drive. What’s on it? And why does he want it?” she questions me.

My eyes widen. Her father asked her to steal from me? And she’s telling me about it?

There could only be one thing Joey Marciano wants.

“I’ll show you.” I spin on my heel, make a beeline for my office, and unlock my safe.

Retrieving the little metal drive before I sit at my desk and power on my computer.

I watch as Antonia makes her way around to stand beside me.

“I am curious, though. Why are you asking me and not attempting to do what he wants?”

“I thought about it. But we agreed to give this a real go. That means no lies, no betrayals, no cheating,” she tells me.

“Okay, this drive has all the information I’ve dug up on him over the years. Evidence. This single file in the wrong hands… Let’s just say it wouldn’t end too well for your old man,” I explain.

“What evidence?”

“Trafficking, racketeering, narcotics.” I list off any number of her father’s crimes.

“Trafficking? What is he trafficking, Carlo?” Antonia asks.

“Women,” I tell her. “There is also all the information I found about your mother on here. If he’s looking for that, well, then he knows she’s alive somewhere.”

“How has she managed to stay hidden this long?”

“Luck?” I suggest. “If you could, would you want to meet her?”

“No.” Antonia shakes her head. “She left me. With him. She knew what he was and she left me with him.”

“I know.” I reach over and pull her onto my lap. “Thank you,” I say, kissing her forehead.

“For what?”

“For trusting me.”

“What are we going to do about this?” She sighs.

“Give it to him. After we delete everything on your mother. Wait a couple of days and tell him you found it.”

“Why?”

I shrug. “Because I don’t need it. I have the only thing your father ever had that I wanted.”

“What’s that?” She smiles.

“You.” My lips press against hers.

And then I hear Jazzy screech out, “Tío E!”

“For the love of God… Does he know he lives in Mexico, not here?” I groan.

“He’s supposed to be your friend.” Antonia stands at the same time Emmanuel walks through my office door, holding a silver serving platter with a lid.

“You go into catering, Emmanuel? I didn’t know times were that tough.” I raise a brow at him.

“I didn’t know you were a comedian,” he shoots back before smiling at Antonia. “Mrs. Bianchi, pleasure as always.”

“Emmanuel, nice to see you again,” she replies.

“Evie is out there with her,” Emmanuel says.

“You brought Evie with you?” I ask him.

“Just making a quick pit stop. We were on our way to the airport but I wanted to deliver this.” He places the tray on the table. “You might want to wait till your wife is out of the room before you open it,” he tells me under his breath.

“Babe, can you find out what Jazzy wants for dinner?” I turn to Antonia.

“Sure,” she says, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

The best thing about marrying someone who grew up in our world?

She doesn’t ask questions. That doesn’t mean she won’t have plenty of ?em.

She’ll just want to interrogate me in private.

Her father really did raise her to be the perfect mafia wife.

And I want to undo it all. I want her to speak freely.

I want her to feel safe in her own home.

But most of all, I want her to trust me.

I pull the lid back from the serving platter to find a dismembered head sitting on a bed of lettuce. “Artful,” I tell Emmanuel as I eye the face, trying to remember if I recognize it.

“Thanks. I thought so,” he says proudly.

“Who was he?”

“Call the boys. Put ?em on video. I want you all to hear this.” He smirks.

I pick up my phone and hit the video icon on our group chat.

“What’s up?” Sammie is the first to answer.

“Emmanuel has something he wants you to hear,” I tell him.

A few seconds later, Louie joins us. “Carlo?”

“Yeah, I’ve got Emmanuel here. He brought a gift.” I turn the camera around and show them the severed head.

“Creative.” Sammie chuckles at the same time Louie asks, “Who is it?”

“Glad you asked. This is the guy who shot at Jazzy.” Emmanuel grins. “Told you I’d find him first.”

“Did you get anything out of him before you decided to cut off his head?” Louie grunts.

“Yeah, I did,” Emmanuel replies before turning to me. “This part you’re not going to like so much.”

“What?” I ask him.

“The name he gave me. Joey Marciano,” Emmanuel clarifies.

“Fucking hell.” I slam the lid down on the platter with a loud clank . “Thank you,” I tell Emmanuel. “But I’ll handle it from here.”

“You think she knows?” he questions me.

“Not in the slightest. She’d tell me,” I say with confidence.

“How sure are you about that?”

“She just had lunch with him, came home, and immediately told me the fucker ordered her to steal something from me.”

“What he want?” This comes from Louie.

“This,” I say, holding the flash drive in front of the camera. “It has enough evidence to earn the fucker five life sentences.”

“You turning rat?” Emmanuel asks.

“Fuck no,” I hiss at him. “I wanted his daughter, and I was going to get her how ever I could.” This is news to my friends, as I never mentioned Antonia to anyone before I agreed to marry her.