“Hewhat? Are you okay?” I get up and head into my bedroom, pacing the length of the floor.
“I’m fine. I told him to go home. That I knew what he and Melanie did. And then I returned to my room and just went to sleep.”
“Okay, so how did you mess up?”
“Louie came home. Saw I was there and broughtme back to his place, but then he saw the bruise,” she says in one long breath.
“What bruise?” I pause in my tracks.Hell no! Some cheating douchebag did not put his hands on my best friend.
Charlotte moves the phone until I’m looking at the palm-shaped bruise on her arm.
“What the hell, Charlotte? Owen did that?” I yell at the screen.
“Yeah, when he grabbed me. But I’m fine.” She nods, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip.
“I’m going to kill him,” I tell her.
“I think Louie might beat you to it,” she whispers.
“Good. I hope he does.” I don’t usually wish violence on anyone, but fuck Owen.
“No, Evie, I’m serious. He lost his mind. As soon as he saw my arm, he kept asking me who did it and I told him and then he got dressed and he…” Charlotte trails off. She’s not saying something.
“He what?” I swear to God, if he hurt her too, I’m going to be digging holes all over the Nevada desert.
“He has guns, Evie. He opened a safe in his closet. He took guns. Told me to go to bed and that he’d be back,” Charlotte whispers.
“Okay, calm down. It’s going to be okay. Wait… Are we even worried about Owen? I mean, he kinda deserves whatever he gets.” Also, I hate to break it to her, but we’re from the south. We grew up around guns. The fact that this Louie guy has them isn’t that big of a deal.
“Evie! We don’t want anyone dead!” Charlotte gasps.
“Right. You’re right.” I nod. “But… if anyone has to die, Owen is a good choice,” I add with a shrug.
“Evie? Why would someone have a safe full of guns?”
“Ah… I’m not sure, but I have an idea. What did you say Louie’s last name was?” I ask, knowing full well she didn’t give us a last name. Otherwise I would have already Googled him. I open my laptop, ready to do just that.
“Louie Giuliani.”
“Holy shit, I mean, I knew he was hot after that quick peek. But, Sweet Mother Mary, this man is fine, Charlotte.” I let out a whistle when picture after picture of Louie Guiliani of Las Vegas fills my screen.
“He really is.” She sighs.
“Ah… Charlotte?” I pause, reading the news article I just clicked on.
“What?”
“Have you looked him up, like at all?” I ask her.
“No. Why?”
“He owns casinos, as inmultiple. On the Vegas strip.”
“I know,” she tells me.
“There… ah… there are also some articles that suggest he’s involved in the criminal underworld.” I keep my voice low, unsure why I’m even whispering. It just feels like this is something you shouldn’t say out loud.
“What? That’s ridiculous. Why would he be involved in the criminal underworld?”
