Submitting in Vegas (Vegas Morellis 3) - Page 131

Trent walks over, rolling his eyes in annoyance at something he must have encountered prior to approaching me. “I hate to ask you to clean restrooms now that you’re the queen around here, but Melanie insists if I make her do it, she’ll throw up. Can you clean the men’s room? A customer just told me it’s a mess.”

Shaking my head, I joke, “I’m much too important now to clean toilets. Sorry, Trent.”

He stares at me.

I glance up. “Obviously I’m going to clean the bathroom. Give me a minute to close out this bill first.”

I take my bill to my table and head for the rubber gloves. As I slide them on and head for the men’s restroom, I consider that I really shouldn’t have to clean toilets now that my shared bank account with my husband has so many zeroes. This is grunt work, dammit.

Melanie is such a lazy girl, though. If I sent her to clean the toilets, she would walk in, check her phone, and leave, insisting it’s fine.

I should have a chat with her. I can fire her ass now! She better embrace the rubber gloves and stop being so damned lazy. Sometimes you have to update your phone when it tells you to, Melanie. Jeeze.

I’m mentally lecturing Melanie—and myself—so I am not immediately alert to potential danger. It doesn’t hit me until my arm has already been latched onto, and I’m being pulled into the handicap stall in the men’s room.

I open my mouth to scream for help, but then my gaze lands on Felix, and my eyes widen.

“It’s just me, okay?” he says, reassuringly.

My gaze rakes over his stealth gear. He’s wearing sunglasses, a dark hoodie, and a pair of jeans. Not precisely how customers dress here, but he couldn’t very well walk-in without at least trying to hide his identity.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I whisper scream, backing myself up against the stall door and resting a hand against my thundering heart. “Oh, my God, I thought you were—actually, I wasn’t even sure. It’s been a weird day.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, nodding. “We had a bug in your phone. When it went dead, I worried something happened to you.”

My heart plummets, but he’s in a hurry, so he immediately goes on.

“Listen, I can’t stay here, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I echo lamely, shaking my head in overwhelmed disbelief. “I don’t even… you shouldn’t have come here to begin with. What the hell were you thinking?”

“I need your help, Virginia,” he says seriously.

I shake my head immediately. “I can’t help you, Felix. The extent of my help is this advice: leave right now, and don’t come back.”

“These are dangerous men, Virginia. Do you know why I was so fucking worried about you? They kill women who become problems for them. Rafe isn’t even marriage material; he’s going to get sick of you, and what do you think happens when he does, huh? Do you know what Mateo Morelli did to Beth Parsons? The mother of his first child who wanted out and tried to leave him, tried to go to the police?”

My eyes narrow with suspicion and drop to his chest. “Are you wired? Are you trying to get me to say something you can use against them? Get the hell out of here, Felix. I mean it. Leave now before I call Rafe myself. Next time, asshole, don’t use full names when you’re trying to be stealthy. Good lord.”

“Hey,” he says, coming up behind me and grabbing my arm. “Virginia, this is not a joke. I know you

think Rafe isn’t as bad as he is, I know that you don’t see—”

“I see plenty,” I assure him. “And I don’t know anything, so you’re wasting your time trying to get anything out of me.”

He releases my arm so I go to storm out, but he stops me with a quiet plea. “Virginia, please. They’ll kill me. They’ll fucking kill me.”

I stop, my heart beating wrong, and brace my hand on the wall.

Felix continues. “I don’t know what else to do. I didn’t get enough information working here, I couldn’t get close enough, I didn’t… I can’t inform if I don’t know anything, and they say I can transition to witness protection, but only if I give them something. Anything. It doesn’t have to be against Rafe. I know you love that asshole. It doesn’t have to be him. Give me something with Sin, or Shane, or… Fuck, I don’t care, give me Chicago information. It’s not what they wanted, but if my department won’t help me, I can go to the feds with it. They’d fucking love to nail Mateo Morelli. Give me something on one of them. I know you’ve brushed elbows; don’t tell me you haven’t picked anything up.”

Mia flashes to mind, sitting on Rafe’s bed, terrified I hold evidence in my head that might rip her family apart.

I shake my head. “Nope. I know he doesn’t like Mexican food. That’s all I know about Mateo Morelli.”

“Adrian Palmetto. He was here for Skylar’s party. He’s Mateo’s number two. Tell me what you know about him. Fuck, give me Vince. Nobody even likes that guy. He’s not even connected anymore, but I bet he’d talk if pressed.”

“He sulks sometimes, but that’s not a crime. Carly really likes his abs. They’re nice abs, admittedly. Is any of this helpful, Felix?”

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