“Violet.”
“So, it’s not his.”
“Not sure Morgan cares who’s name is on the title.”
I drop my keys on the counter. “Set up a meeting.”
“Jag—”
“Better yet, bring Virgil here. I don’t care if you have to knock him out and put him in the trunk. I’m done with the asshole’s bullshit.”
Roman runs his tongue between his upper lip and teeth. Clearly, he’s lukewarm over the idea of following my order. “Might take me a few to find him.”
The bastard’s like a slippery worm.
My fingers dig into the bridge of my nose as I fight to stave off a headache. “If we’re lucky, maybe he’s in a ditch somewhere.”
“I have a feeling we’re not that lucky,” Roman mutters. “He’s been missing since the game ended.”
After I first met Vi, I had Ford fill me in on every bet Virgil had made. His trends. His weaknesses. His winnings versus losses. The guy’s won big more than a few times, though his losses far outweigh them.
“Which game?” I ask.
“Lions,” Roman answers, mentioning the professional hockey team from Lockwood Heights Virgil has a habit of betting against. Fuck. If only Morgan wasn’t in the picture, this wouldn’t be a problem. Virgil wouldn’t have had any other connections to sports gambling after I cut him off, thanks to certain state restrictions. Part of me wonders if this is my fault. If I hadn't embarrassed him during the last event, if I hadn’t told Ford to refuse taking any more bets from the asshole, would he have still searched out Morgan? Would this have still happened? I shake my head, refusing to play the should’ve, would’ve, could’ve game, no matter how easy it is to fall into the trap.
“When you find him, let me know,” I tell Roman. “I’ll be waiting.”
“Sure thing.” He hesitates at the doorway. “You gonna tell Vi?”
Tell her how her father found a way to screw her all over again? Even after all the shit he’s put her through? The idea alone is enough to leave me nauseated, but I force myself to nod, anyway. “Better she hear it from me,” I tell him.
With a quiet sigh, Roman taps his knuckles against the doorjamb, then leaves me alone in the quiet kitchen with nothing but my thoughts for company.
I dig out my phone and send Violet a text.
Me
Hey, you awake?
I’d be surprised if she is. She was exhausted. Now that I think about it, so am I. I set my phone on the kitchen counter and brew a pot of coffee. There’s no way I’ll be able to sleep anyway. Not with my pending conversation with Virgil. As I grab a cup from the cabinet, my phone buzzes with a message.
Little Thief
Yeah. Hey.
Damn. I almost hoped she could get a good night’s rest before I shit all over her day, but it is what it is. Rubbing at the corner of my eye, I type my response.
Me
I know it’s late, but I need to talk to you, and I think it’s best if you hear it from me. If you’re up for it, I can tell you right now, or you can call me in the morning. Thoughts?
Her response is almost instant this time.
Little Thief
Doubt I’ll be sleeping for the foreseeable future, considering who was banging on my front door a few minutes ago.
The blood drains from my face, and I dial Violet’s number. It only rings once when her quiet voice replaces the ringing.
