“I thought I told you to stay away from me.”
Sal continues to grin at me. “I see you didn’t take my warning seriously.”
“Get the hell outta my way.” I barge past Sal and round the back of my car.
“Fancy car, fancy house, beautiful wife,” Sal calls after me. “You can lose it all like that.” He snaps his fingers just like the last time.
“Shut the fuck up.” I yank the door open, throw myself into the driver’s seat, turn on the ignition, and put it in gear. I swerve out of the parking space, purposely making the car tires squeal against the concrete floor.
I want to scare the bastard, but when I look up, he’s gone. I put my head on swivel, but he’s nowhere in sight. Probably hiding in the shadows again like a pussy.
I’m spooked the whole way home. When I pull into my driveway, I’m still pissed off that I let a loser like Sal get to me. I enter the house, fully expecting Cheryl to be up waiting for me, swinging a frying pan at my head, but the kitchen’s empty. I’m fuckin’ around about the frying pan, but my woman has a powerful temper when she gets going. She can be a hot head like her mob boss father.
I leave the kitchen and find the rest of the rooms empty too, so I head upstairs to the bedroom. I check in on Portia. Her sweet sleeping face is barely visible beneath the fluffy comforter. When I enter our room, Cheryl’s snuggled into our bed sound asleep.
Her already asleep could mean two things: She’s so pissed, she doesn’t even want to talk to me, or she went to bed realizing I’d never step out on her. I almost wish she was awake so I could make sure she knows nothing went on with that slut, but I’m not gonna wake her just to ease my conscience.
My woman could piss me off with her independent side, but like Samson reminded me, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Staring at her beautiful face reminds me how keepingher and Portia safe is my first priority and main reason I have to beat Pierce at his own game.
Too wired to sleep after Sal’s repeat visit in the garage, I quietly go into the bathroom and change my clothes. Sal’s ominous message stays with me as I go back downstairs. I grab a bottle of Blanton’s from behind the bar, pull open the slider and head out to the patio.
Pouring myself two fingers of bourbon, I relax against the cushions of the couch, enjoying the tranquil sound of the wind rustling the water in the pool. It’s the first peaceful minute I’ve had all day, so I lay my head against the cushions and close my eyes.
“Hey, Nick.”
A strong wind blows over me. I shiver, then open my eyes. I must’ve drifted off, but now the air is unusually heavy and damp with a lingering chill. Like a rainy, humid night back in New York—except it hardly rains in Vegas, and it’s never humid. I wrap my arms around myself, but I can’t stop shivering.
“Hey, Nick,” the whispered voice repeats.
A gusty wind stirs the pool into choppy waves, making the underwater lights shimmer brighter. Staring hard into the mist, I bolt upright when a figure appears.
“Holy fuck!” I blink furiously, but the image drifts closer.
“I tried to warn you, but you refused to listen to me,” Sal says.
It sounds like Sal, it looks like Sal, only I can see the pool lights right through him like a—fuckin’ ghost.
I rear back against the cushions, “Get away from me.”
But he glides closer. “Sorry, Nick, that’s not possible.”
This rumpled ghostly version of Sal looks just like him, except for the permanent grimace etched onto his face and the large red stain on the frontof his shirt.
“What do you want?” I ask. “What are you doing here?”
“Those are two different questions.”
“Don’t fuckin’ play me.” I grip the empty glass in my hand. “This isn’t real. I’ve just had too much booze.”
“Sorry, no.” Sal hovers in front of me. The edges of his body shift with the wind—fuckin’ weird.
“What kinda scam are you pulling?”
“No scam. As a matter of fact, if you had listened to me earlier and taken my warnings seriously in the garage, all this could’ve been avoided.”
“What could’ve been avoided?”
“I tried twice, Nick, but, as usual, you think you know everything and blew me off.”
