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“What?” Killian glances down the alley. “Wrap it up, kid.”
“The money doesn’t make sense.” I double-check a few things, confusion growing. “He’s bringing in next to nothing through the clubs. They’re basically recycling the revenue to keep going. He hasn’t recovered from the outfits you guys destroyed, either.” Hayes and Killian planned a huge heist that blew up most of Roman’s storefronts last year. “He’s basically destitute.”
Hayes chuckles. “Oh, this is Christmas morning.”
“He’s getting money somewhere.”
“I know.” Logically, yes. “Marco is paying for his public image, but to keep going, he must have a stash. Give me time. I’ll have to trace the money. The funds are coming from somewhere, but it’s not listed.”
“So, what does this all tell us?” The Reaper jerks his chin at me. “Lay it out, boy wonder.”
“It means Marco is seriously betting on a big payout. He wouldn’t put this much work into partnering with Roman, paying for everything upfront, if he wasn’t getting something in the end.”
“Valentina,” Hayes growls, closing his eyes as if tasting something terrible. “She’s the prize. She always has been.”
“Makes sense,” Killian agrees. “Roman has only thought of women as commodities. His sister, the last Bruno left, is a big trophy for anyone to win.”
Hayes glares at the man, fists at his sides. “I want to punch you.”
“You could try.” Killian’s eyes glint, taunting the hitter. “But we both know what will happen.”
“Let me do some more digging,” I interrupt, stopping their dick-measuring contest. “I’ll find the income stream. In the meantime, you hit hard on his shipments. You’re already taking Roman’s property. Grab more of the girls, and you’ll piss off his bankroller. That will really fuck over Roman.”
Adrenaline pumps in my chest, soothing that ball of rage at the idea someone might get my sunshine. I’m staring at the evidence, and it twists in my gut, a dagger carving my heart out whole.
Killian nods, unlocking the car door. “Fair enough. We’ll drop you off and let Maeve know the plan.”
“Can I come?”
Hayes ruffles my hair, and I slap his hand.
“Let’s not push it.”
11
VALENTINA
Roman is screaming at someone again.
With my hand on his closed door, the vibration of his rage pummels through the wood. Every shout, every profanity, causes me to flinch as if they’re directed at me.
Once it stops, I open the door cautiously, ignoring the guards at the side. They might want to stop me, but they’re never allowed to touch me.
Roman slams the phone down, but I don’t wince, though my body trembles. I can’t show weakness.
“Valentina,” he says darkly, barely looking up at me. “What do you want?”
He drops into the office chair, shuffling papers together. I realize too late, I never returned the folder I snooped through days ago.
Ello must have fixed it for me. Dio, he’s wonderful.
“I need a dress,” I force myself to say.
He sits back, regarding me with pure disgust. I steel my spine and wait for his vitriol.
It’s no secret my brother hates me, and I, him. He doesn’t like who I am—what I am. To him, I’m a boil on this family’s name. My disability makes me seem weak to him.
And because he’s the head of the family, he has to take care of me. We share the same surname. If he disowned me, cast me out, some loyalists to the Bruno name would riot. It’s a small protection that he can’t dump me into a halfway house without another care.
