At the next stoplight, I peeked up to check on the driver. He was distracted by his one-man concert, so I figured it was now or never. I climbed to the back of the truck and hoisted myself down onto the ground, pausing only for a second as the people in the car behind us looked at me as if they’d just seen a ghost.
I gave them a little smile and wave as though everything was cool and walked casually onto the sidewalk. The light turned green, and the driver took off none the wiser. I looked around, trying to figure out where the hell I was. There was a strip mall up the street, and I figured it would be a good place to grab a cab.
Twenty minutes later, I found myself at the entrance of my apartment. I just needed to grab some clothes, whatever items Ace might have left behind, to get me through until I could figure out where I’d be staying for tonight. But as soon as I turned the corner, I noticed my parking space had another car parked inside it. Another glance up at the door confirmed there was a new patio set on the balcony that hadn’t been there when I left. And that was when it dawned on me that none of my belongings would be inside.
The place had been rented out.
“NOT HUNGRY TODAY, BOSS?”
“Huh?” I peeked out from my toolbox and found Smokey staring at me in concern. When I glanced at the clock, I figured there must be something wrong with it, but there wasn’t. I was off my game, and it was obvious to most of my guys in here today. They’d all seen the show when Blake blew out of here with his tail tucked between his legs, and then I came out ready to light a fire up anyone’s ass who got in my way.
Goddamned Birdie.
She was on my mind, screwing up everything, and now I was forty minutes late for lunch. That shit was totally out of character for me, and everyone here knew it.
“I just wanted to finish what I was doing,” I muttered. “But I suppose I should take a break.”
“I’ll hold down the fort.” Smokey nodded.
I wiped my hands and stuffed the grease rag into my back pocket. Truthfully, I didn’t think I was ready to face Birdie. Not after the way I’d treated her. I’d never been so goddamned mad in my life, and that terrified me. I wasn’t accustomed to losing my cool, but she had a talent for bringing out the darkness in me. All for some bullshit game I should have seen from a mile away. She’d provoked me, and I walked right into it—hook, line, and sinker.
This was exactly why I told myself from the beginning I couldn’t let myself get wrapped up in her. I’d crossed over the territory of obsession into full-on possession, but after today, she’d probably never want to look at me again. And I wouldn’t blame her. But it didn’t mean I was letting her go either. I was in this now, balls deep until the end. There was no going back to the way things were. Not after the way she made me feel today.
I wanted to hate her for playing me so easily. For getting inside my mind and fucking with all the emotions I never wanted to feel in the first place. She made me feel, and it wasn’t something I was used to.
Birdie Blue was my fucking nightmare and salvation wrapped up into one terrifying package. She’d left her mark on me, branding it into my rusted-up, broken-down heart. I didn’t know why I was still fighting it. Good or bad, right or wrong, she was the other half of my soul that I’d always known was missing. And consequences be damned, I was keeping her.
I headed for the bathroom to wash up, giving myself ample time to figure out how to approach this situation. Handling Birdie with kid gloves was out of the question now. She’d seen the worst of me, and I owed her some kind of explanation. But how could I explain my feelings when I didn’t even understand them myself?
The shade on the office door was still shut, and my palm lingered on the knob for far too long. I didn’t know what I would find inside. What version of her would I see? I was afraid to bear witness to the damage I’d done. Gypsy warned me that Birdie would retreat and shut down. But when I opened the door, it was worse than that.
There was nothing. An empty chair, a stack of papers, and only the faintest lingering of her scent.
She was gone.
My gaze trailed down the length of Las Vegas Boulevard while I calculated the number of casinos I had yet to cover. Over the past six hours, I’d been to her old apartment, Trouble’s studio, and at least ten casinos and clubs I knew she liked to frequent. In addition to that, I also had some of my guys scouring the smaller joints, and Trouble was on her scent like a bloodhound too.