Page 24 of Make Me A Sinner
Something tells me we're not spending the day in the office—which turns out to be true, at least not the whole day. Our first stop is one of the hotel’s restaurants for breakfast.
I like that he's so thoughtful of what and when I eat, because the day I was home alone, I don't remember eating anything. I was probably too busy worrying about a bounty hunter showing up at the door. But Set seems to have everything figured out—as always.
Next stop is the X-ray, which turns out fine. Who would’ve guessed he's not just a killer, but also a skilled doctor, putting my joint back together like it’s nothing?
Bit of a contradiction, but I've learned the hard way that he's always full of surprises.
We head back to the hotel so he can meet with one of his managers for some kind of debriefing, then continue with lunch—where, of course, he’s meeting with more people.He's so damn busy. I don't even know how he manages it all—that and chasing me halfway around the globe.
Surprisingly enough, during rare moments when he's not surrounded by people, we do manage to have something close to a normal conversation. Something that doesn't involve murder oredginga person to theedgeof their sanity.
Two meetings later, I’m finally starting to get a feel for how things work around here. I've figured out who's who, and the amount of planning and organization is insane—the casinos, restaurants, shops, rooms, parking lot, pool, entertainment sections. Feels like he's running an entire city under one roof. Impressive to say at least. And that's just the legal side of his business.
I even offer to help him look over some store reports. He already has someone doing that, but he likes to double-check, so I take over while he catches up on some contracts—that is until he gets a text from Whiro.
"My brother wants me to meet him at some bar across town. You coming?" he asks, and it's pretty weird he’s even asking.
Maybe it's because the bar’s in the bad part of town. I don't care. I know I'm safe as long as I'm with him, and staying at the apartment isn't exactly great for my mental health. So I agree.
It's another three hours before we meet Whiro, so we kill time with a short shopping session to grab some face creams and other cosmetics that I mentioned earlier during lunch.
He's acting all boyfriend on me, paying attention to what I need, taking me to the places I want, and even carrying my bags. Okay, not all the way—he usually just carries them out the store door, then hands them off to one of his guards to take upstairs to the penthouse. He even fixed my hair, brushing it over my shoulders so it wouldn't get in my face as I was trying out a face serum.
I keep telling myself I'm not impressed. But I am. Really impressed. Not for long, though, since I'm sure he’ll find a way to ruin everything he built up during the day. Like, I don’t know—edging me for the rest of my life.
We drive to meet with his brother at the agreed upon time, and since the day seems to be taking a different kind of turn, I finally feel relaxed enough to ask him why he was covered in blood when he came to me that day in Italy.
Turns out, he was so out of it he didn't even know what he’d done. Just went after a few mafia families who’d given him trouble in the past and carried out anecessary disposal—whatever the hell that means.
So strange how sometimes I forget who he is. And I’m starting to think it’s because he’s a completely different person around me. Even when he's teasing me, even when he's pushing me to my limits, I know now he'd never hurt me. Not intentionally. Not unless I make him completely lose his mind. I don't want to think about what happens when he does. Because there's something so strange about him in those moments that feels almost inhuman.
I just chalk it up to stress and possibly drugs. Not that I’ve ever seen him take any. Besides, I doubt that anyway. He’s too disciplined, too composed the rest of the time. I’m starting to think I only see him likesomethingout of this world because I'm afraid of how he gets when I push him, and maybe my mind’sjust screwing with me. I really can't come up with any other explanation.
The place we’re supposed to meet his brother is a total shithole. Cheap drinks, cheap music—the kind of place people go to forget things. No one even glances at another table because they’re usually too buried in their own mess and they don't give a single shit about the outside world.
"Typical Whiro," I hear Set mutter under his breath as we take a seat at a table, and he asks foranything with a lid. And I'm not kidding—that's literally what he orders, like he's too disgusted with the place to drink anything out of a glass. I’d imagine he’s put much worse things in his mouth than these glasses, but I don't make that joke, unwilling to go down that road again.
Whiro shows up in a flash, pulling a piece of paper and what looks to be a photo out of his jacket. But he slides the photo back quickly, and pushes the paper across the table. It’s a name and an address. "He's a mercenary. Dangerous kind of man. Nothing we can't handle."
"Who’s paying his bill?" Set asks, looking up at Whiro, who hasn’t even taken a seat.
"Don't know yet. If you want, we can both go after him tomorrow—I’ll get it out of him. Or I could dig a little more, see if we can hit both him and his employer at once." Whiro seems like he’s in a hurry.
"You’ve got a fucking target, don't you?" Set ask, and I see a smile rise on his lips for the first time since I returned to Vegas.
That same smile mirrors on Whiro's face. "You know me, I’d never keep you waiting. But this one’s a politician. He's about to leave the country. I'll just be his flight attendant to hell," he smirks, rubbing his hands like he's going to unwrap his Christmas presents.
"Don't let me stop you. I'll be fine. You know me." Set tips the beer he just opened.
Well, Cheers to a good assassination?
Where the hell did I end up?
Whiro disappears into the crowd, and I'm officially convinced his brother’s even more psychotic than Set—which, weirdly, gives me hope. I could’ve done worse when it comes to men.
Okay, yeah, I know that probably includes Nick. But my mind refuses to go there since I'm the one who finally dealt with him.
The address isn’t far from here. Set calls a few of his men to meet him there, but we’d need to wait for them for almost half an hour. And he's not exactly the most patient man.
