Page 65 of His Lair
Idon’t usually sleep in, but I’ve been spending all of my nights digging into the Santiago family and what they could possibly want from Sammie. So far, all I’ve got is the fact they want toget in on the Vegas strip and haven’t been able to make much headway.
It’s starting to piss me off. I’ve thought about just taking matters into my own hands and taking John out. It would put an end to this wedding and put a hammer in whatever plans the Santiago family has.
I haven’t spoken to Sammie since he called the other night. I thought about messaging him, only to talk myself out of it as soon as I reach for my phone. He needs time. I get that. Although he did say he wanted me to go home with him—that’s promising.
Climbing out of bed, I throw on a sweatshirt and then make my way out to the kitchen. I need coffee, and a lot of it.
“Afternoon,” my dad says, looking up from his recliner as I pass the living room.
“Afternoon,” I groan. “Sorry I slept so late.”
“You’re exhausted. Whatever is keeping you up at night, I hope you work it out soon,” he tells me.
“Yeah, me too.” I continue to the kitchen.
After brewing a fresh pot of coffee, I head back into the living room.
“Is this the plan today? Sitting around in our PJs watching… What is that?” I ask, pointing to some weird-looking sport on the television screen.
“Cricket. And yes, this is what retirement looks like,” Dad answers.
“Well, I hope to never retire then.” I laugh. My dad does not find it funny, though. Any mention of my work creates tension between us. It’s a topic we’ve learned to avoid.
“John’s moved his wedding. Apparently his future son-in-law wants to host it at his casino in Vegas,” Dad says. “Do you want to come to Vegas with me?”
“Really? Who is this future son-in-law?”
“No idea. I’ve learned when it comes to John, it’s best not to ask questions.” Dad shrugs.
“What kind of friend is he if you can’t ask him questions? I’ll drive. I have to return my friend’s car anyway,” I say.
“Who was it again? The friend who let you borrow a three-hundred-thousand dollar car?” Dad asks.
“I didn’t say.” I smirk. “So when do you want to leave? I’ll book us some rooms.”
“Let’s go tomorrow. The wedding is the day after,” Dad replies.
“Okay.” I get up and head back to my room. “What casino?” I call out, already knowing the answer.
“Wild Card. You know it?” Dad calls back.
“I’ve heard of it,” I tell him.
How the hell did Sammie go about having the wedding moved? It’s smart. To have it on his home turf. But still, it’s two days away.
I pick up my phone and call him. I need to know what he’s planning. Although it’s unlikely he’ll tell me.
“Lailani, how are you?” He sounds tired.
“I just heard I’m heading back to Vegas earlier than expected. How did you manage to move this wedding? And why did you move it? What are you planning?” I ask rapid fire.
“I’m good too. Thanks for asking, babe,” he says.
“I’m sorry. How are you?” I try again.
“You know, great… if you overlook the whole my mother marrying a dirty fucking cop who’s tied up with a rival family thing, and the fact that my girlfriend is some high-level secret assassin—oh, and she’s not here where I need her.”
“Your girlfriend sounds like a real catch.” I smile. He called me hisgirlfriend. Maybe he is going to get past our little… disagreement. Time will tell.
