Page 94
Hell, the old man saved Sloane, too. All because Maeve asked it.
I had Killian and her to help me; they kept me safe when assassins hunted me all over the world. As a child left to fend for myself, they did everything in their power to protect me.
Maeve only had Nico.
“It’s good to see you,” she mutters, holding him tight.
He pats her back fondly. “And you, piccola. I thought you would be out on a rampage still.”
She pulls back, lips faintly quirking into a smile. “The night is still young.”
He strides over to the desk, standing beside Lex. But he shares a small wink with Sloane and gently elbows his nephew in the familiar way that seems too intimate to watch.
“So, I’m told you have questions.”
Maeve gestures to me, and I slip out a USB drive. The old man huffs.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m too old for computers. Tell me about it.”
Right.
“I hacked into Bruno’s accounts.” I sit in the chair, facing them. Nico’s stare bores into my face, and I try not to shift. He’s little, but damn, I can see who taught Lex his intimidating factor. “There are a bunch of crisscrossing lines. Roman is hiding this account from anyone who might see it. Oversight, feds, maybe even Marco.”
Nico snorts, looking to Lex. “Marco Scipione. I never liked him.”
“I know, Zio.”
“But I got through all the red tape and found the offshore account.” Roman is better at hiding his misdeeds than I’ll give him credit for. It’s such a contrast to how stupid he acts. “It’s in the Canary Islands, and I could only find the name. Amore.”
“Amore?” Nico shifts, resting against the cane. Maeve goes to his side, offering him an arm, but he waves her off. Stubborn little guy. “Nothing else?”
“No.” I toss Lex the USB drive. “I know it means love in Italian, just weird.”
Nick rubs his jaw, glancing around the room. “It does. What about the address?”
My brow jumps. “It’s Della something. Tesoro? Not really a place. All fake.”
Nico nods, jaw clenching. Huffing, he shrugs. “It could be nothing, but I know a bit about the Bruno family. It may help you in your searches.”
Maeve takes the chair beside me, and the rest of the men stand at our backs. She crosses her legs, pantsuit dark in the comforting room. “We’re all ears.”
“Carina Lutz Bruno,” he begins, “was a woman of incredible wealth. She was a dancer, a beautiful ballerina back in Italy.” Nico glances at Lex. “She knew your mother.”
“They were friends?” I don’t miss the crack in the capo’s voice—his mother is a sore subject. After witnessing her and his younger sister’s deaths as their home burned—and bearing the scars from it—he rarely speaks about them.
“Not so much friends,” Nico retorts. “But they came from the same area. As such, they knew each other. Your aunt, too.” A soft smile curves his old face. “She often remarked how well she danced—and the travesty she couldn’t continue when she married Senior.”
“Valentina dances,” I add absently. I can see her swaying in my mind—her long legs, graceful leaps, and tight turns. Her mind goes somewhere soft when she’s in the middle of a set. She was meant to be a ballerina.
“She does,” Hayes says suspiciously.
Killian digs his hand into my shoulder. Oh, right.
“It’s what I hear.”
Hayes hums, but his eyes don’t leave me. Smooth.
“Anyway, the rumors say Carina had an enormous fortune from dancing, but it grew when her father died.” Nico thumps his cane into the ground. “It’s a shame. Her father had the money to give Senior to settle his debt, but instead sold her off. Pity.”
