Page 58 of Heathen

"Vegas was supposed to be one long party. Save the girls and spend every night with a new woman."

"Maybe those were your goals," I say. "They were never mine."

"Are you saying that getting married to the first chick who caught your eye was all part of your plan?"

I scoff. "I never saw her coming, man. If you're not careful, you'll be next."

"I can't fucking believe you've fallen for this chick. How is that even possible?"

I shake my head. "I wish I fucking knew."

"That's wild. As cute and poetic as it sounds, she may not want anything to do with you after this bust."

"What makes you say that?" I ask, my heart rate increasing with the threat of things ending with Kaylee.

"Does she know what happens to these women when we raid the warehouse?"

I've done my best to keep that knowledge from sinking in too deep.

"I doubt it. I imagine she thinks they all get a happily ever after."

"That's not how Homeland Security and ICE work," he says, as if I need the reminder.

"Too bad they don't get a 'sorry about your experiences in the United States, here's citizenship for your trouble'."

"Yeah," he says, sounding a little sadder than he was before. "Instead, they end up held in deportation housing until they can be sent back to their home country."

"I can't even imagine being born someplace so toxic that coming to a different country and marrying a man who will forever treat you like a possession is better."

"Pretty fucked," Twisted mutters.

"Not to mention the power and control that the men like Dima have over them, and for years after they marry," I add. "Did I tell you that he practically told Kaylee to stay married for two years and then leave me so she could make more money by getting a divorce and being available to be married out once again?"

"Makes me wonder how many women there are waiting for a subsequent marriage," he says.

"Makes me wonder how many men have been asked for a divorce and then lost their shit because their possession was trying to break free."

"I can only imagine the number of holes dug in the Mojave Desert," he mutters, making a wave of cold chills run down my arms.

"That's if they even bother to dig one," he comments further. "I fucking hate people."

"Same."

"How are you going to feel when it comes time to cut Kaylee loose?"

I don't know how to answer that right now. There are times when I'm able to convince myself that I can walk away when the time comes, but then again, I was incredibly reluctant just to go to fucking work this morning.

One minute, it feels like we're just two consenting people having a little fun to pass the time and then, there are times like this morning when I woke to her empty side of the bed and I didn't even bother to put on a fucking shirt before going to find her.

"What we have isn't real," I mutter, needing to say it out loud more to convince myself that it's true than to convince him.

The door to the warehouse opens, and Edmon steps out into the sunshine from the belly of the place. It takes every ounce of control I've honed over the years not to step outside of the car and put a hole in his face.

"If you grip that door handle any harder, you're going to break the damn thing," Twisted says.

It still doesn't make me release it.

"It seems like you might struggle with that decision when the time comes," he says, but this time there's no humor in his voice.

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