Page 62 of Kingpin

“I’m sure you are. Stay safe.”

26

Israel

My safe housebecame my out-of-home office, and I had all the digital copies of all my documents transferred to the computer I stared at.

I sifted through them, sorting them as best as I could and redirecting all of my shipments and through a smaller warehouse I had on the other side of the city. I postponed all of my receiving orders for two weeks until I could get that shit situated. I already had my private investigator looking into proof I could use against Pava. Proof that the police department couldn't refute if I presented it myself.

On the other hand, I wanted to be the one to put a bullet through his skull.

I double-clicked on a folder I already recognized and pulled it up. The digital documents of Bonnie’s and my marriage agreement stared me in the face. I sighed as I clicked through it. My gut had been right the day of our wedding. Something in the pit of my stomach told me not to file those papers. Something told me to keep those papers to myself until I could sort things through. Then, I’d have them filed and make our marriage legally official.

I hadn’t done that yet.

As I stared at the paperwork with all of the wrong names, I maneuvered my mouse to the corner.

I clicked the trash can icon.

I leaned back and sighed. There it went. With a whooshing sound before it disappeared from my computer, I discarded the last of my fake marriage.

Now, I just need to tell Bonnie.

It’s not like our marriage papers were real, anyway. The second I figured out her name wasn’t Brianna Moretti, like she signed on those damn papers, it made our marriage null and void. Grounds for annulment, for starters. Legally, I never married Bonnie Moretti.

Legally, I married the woman’s cousin.

I distracted myself with all sorts of work throughout the day, trying to quote some prices on what it would take to get the warehouse back up and running. My fear was that it was a total loss. Which meant cashing in with the insurance company and finding a new warehouse altogether. I hated doing that kind of shit. Chicago was jam-packed with warehouses, but none I could buy. That meant finding an abandoned one, gutting the shit out of it, and building it from the ground up.

Again.

“Fucking hell,” I sighed.

I put in a request to the realtor I always used, then I packed up to go home. When I got there, I found Bonnie standing in the living room. Dressed. With heels on and her hair styled and her softly scented perfume wafting toward my nose.

“A refreshing sight,” I said.

She didn’t turn to face me. “How was your day?”

I dropped my things besides the elevator. “We need to talk.”

She nodded. “If it’ll save you some breath, I don’t mind moving out.”

I paused. “What? No. That’s not what I want to speak about. You’re not going anywhere.”

Then she turned. “Oh?”

I shook my head. “Nope. Nowhere. I just need to tell you that I destroyed our marriage papers today.”

She blinked. “Come again?”

I walked toward her. “I never filed our marriage papers when we were first married because something in the pit of my gut told me not to. I filed them away in my office until I could sort through things. Then, the fire happened.”

“Ah.”

“I had a digital copy, but I deleted that this afternoon as well.”

Tears rushed into her eyes. “I’m sure you popped open some champagne then, too. That what you’re saying?”

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