Page 129 of Morally Corrupt

"I don't like how he just inserted himself in this. Sure, he had some info, but… something isn't right," I tell him.

"Don't worry. He's difficult, I'll allow. But he's never screwed over Bianca, and, by extension, he wouldn't mess with you."

"Just how well do you know him?" I ask, suddenly Bianca's words about their friendship ring in my ears, making me doubtful.

"We were sort of neighbors growing up. You could say we were childhood friends." Marcel shrugs as if it's not a big deal.

"I'm still not sure… But if you say it's fine, I'll trust you."

"I promise," Marcel responds solemnly, the corners of his mouth going up slightly.

I give him a nod, and I turn to leave. I saunter towards my car as if waiting for something…

It never comes.

I'm almost pissed at myself when I get inside and start the car. I've been waiting for Bianca to come after me and say something… anything, really. Ever since we've gotten back from Florida, she's been more distant and emotionless than usual.

Is that even a thing?

She's barely talked to me if it isn't pertinent to the case. And after Atlantic City, it's unlikely we'll be in proximity again.

When I'd found out about her double life, I'd decided it was over. It had been a painful decision to take because I realized that I'd spent years loving someone who didn'teven exist.

But I'd done it. When I'd told her to get out of my life, I'd meant it. Who would have imagined that we would be thrown together again? I've gotten a good look at the real Bianca these past few days, and while she isn't the woman I fell in love with, she is… intriguing.

I know about her childhood trauma, and I wonder how much of that shaped who she is now. Because while I do believe she's not normal, I don't believe she hasnofeelings. Her moral compass is clearly screwed, I'm not going to lie.

But sometimes I see something in her eyes, and I almost believe she loves me.

Almost.

Or maybe it's my wishful thinking. How pathetic is that?

I get back to the apartment and get ready for bed. At least I know that Bianca has been sleeping in her own apartment and not at Vlad's. With my growing distrust of him, I don't think I'd be able to stand the thought of her there.

As I try to drift to sleep, I think of what the future holds. Finally getting Jimenez for all his crimes and giving my parents the justice they deserve. As for Bianca… I think the time will come to say goodbye.

* * *

The following morning, I pick up Bianca in my car, and we head to Atlantic City. When I see her carrying a massive suitcase with her, my eyes widen.

"What's in that?" I ask, pointing towards it.

"Everything we might need. Disguises, because we're not walking in there for everyone to recognize us, weapons, and other small things that should help us."

"Small things? I'm afraid to even ask."

She gives me a beaming smile, replying, "Don't."

I shake my head but drive. It's a couple of hours until Atlantic City, so we hash out our plan.

"Remember, no killing," I add to make sure we're on the same page. Bianca frowns at me, probably because I'd agreed with her dispatching Wolfe. True, I'd been too disgusted by what he'd done to contemplate an alternative. But we didn't need to draw unnecessary attention to ourselves this time. Theno killingrule should be enforced.

"Fine," she grumbles. "But if I don't get to kill anyone, then you don't get to act the hero either," Bianca continues.

"Hero? What do you mean?" I sneak a glance at her, and she has a challenging look on her face.

"As if you wouldn't try to save those people from the auction block. Please, I'm well aware of your good Samaritan syndrome."

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