Elect - Dyken Rachel Van - Страница 16

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I don’t remember how many times I hit him before he passed out. Blood dripped from both my hands and I still wanted more. What the hell kind of mind game was Phoenix playing?

I quickly dialed Uncle Tony’s number and told him to meet me. We needed to move faster than I thought—I needed all the information, the leads that we’d collected over the years, the evidence. I wanted and needed it all.

Something told me we were running out of time faster than I could possibly imagine, and I knew Phoenix held the key. The only question? Who was holding the information over his head?

“Are you sure this is all you have?” I asked for the third time. Tony had given me a USB drive with all the information that we’d collected over the years, including pictures of the De Lange family’s comings and goings, and active accounts.

Shit, they were worse off than I thought.

And that was the problem.

As far as I could tell they weren’t receiving any payments from any outside source. Nobody seemed to be bribing them. No wire transfers; nothing.

Tony snorted. “Nixon, you’re not only my boss but my nephew. Why would I of all people keep vital information from you?” He lit his cigar and walked over to the large bay window in my kitchen.

Hell. He was lying to me; the son of a bitch was lying. I could always tell when someone wasn’t being honest. Not that I liked to brag, but whenever people lie they tend to give more information than necessary. They do this in order to convince you that because they have details, they’re innocent.

If Tony was telling the truth, he would have shrugged and said “yup.”

He didn’t even deny it. No, instead he turned the tables and said, “Why would I of all people keep information from you?”

Guilt dripped off every word.

Why indeed?

I pretended to scroll through the bank accounts on the computer. It was all information I’d seen before. Things that didn’t really matter and wouldn’t help our case one bit.

What motive would Tony have to hide something from me? What would he have to gain? He was loaded. All of our business dealings were managed by different companies. I oversaw all operations.

The man was worth close to a billion dollars. Granted, that was a drop in the bucket compared to my own fortune, but still.

It couldn’t be money. He had money.

“Well.” Tony puffed on his cigar and faced me. “I think I’m going to head home. You’ll tell me if anything comes up?”

Here went nothing.

“Nah.” I leaned back in my chair. “I don’t think it’s necessary you know all the gory details. Just do what I pay you to do.”

Tony’s nostrils flared; his eyes remained cool and distant. “And what’s that?”

I smiled. “Your damn job. Manage the transactions coming in and out of the banks, make sure every member of the family gets paid by the end of the month. You know, that sort of thing.” I looked back at my computer, dismissing his presence.

“Now, listen here, Nixon, you may be—”

“We’re done now.” My eyes flickered to his. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a mess to clean up.”

He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say. Instead he nodded. “Yes sir.” And stormed out of the room.

“Angelo,” I called behind me.

“Yes sir.”

“Tail him. I want to know what he eats for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I want to know what toothpaste he uses at night, what whiskey he prefers, all of it. I want you to know him so damn well that if I placed his skin on your body, people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Anything suspicious, you call me. And Angelo?”

“Sir.”

“Nobody, and I mean nobody, will know of this. If you get caught—”

“I understand, sir.” Angelo nodded once and left the room.

I groaned and put my head in my hands. Things weren’t looking up. I wondered if Trace had had a better day than I did. Actually, I didn’t hope; I knew she had to. After all, what could be worse than threatening to kill your ex-best friend and finding out your uncle was a possible rat?

Chase walked into the house looking like he was about five seconds away from holding a gun to his own head.

“Dude.” I threw a can of beer in his direction. “Who died?”

He caught the beer midair and set it on the table, then took a seat. “No one. That I know of, at least. Well, let me rephrase. I didn’t kill anyone. Why, did you?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head and then burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“Us.” I took a seat next to him and sighed. “Who asks that when they come home at night?”

“Damn shame we’re not kidding.”

“Damn shame.” I agreed and touched my beer to his. “So, what has you looking so pissed off? Trace get mud on the boots you get her or something?”

“Nah.” He cleared his throat. “Nothing like that. I just hate going to her classes. They suck, by the way, and I was a freshman three years ago, thank you very much. Plus, I swear every single one of her professors wants to murder me.”

“Well.” I took another sip. “You did sleep with two out of four of the women professors. Pretty sure that’s reason enough for a grudge.”

Chase snorted. “They should thank me, not hold it against me. I gave them the time of their lives!”

“So you say.” I chuckled. “They, however, explain the situation a bit differently.”

“You asked?” Chase’s eyes widened.

“Chase, you can’t seduce an older woman and then call her a cougar to her face, especially if you’re the one that sweet-talked her into bed in the first place.”

“Not my fault!” Chase held up his hands. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Fine.”

“Do you…” Chase swore. “Do you think that maybe Tex should help out a bit, too, with Trace, I mean?”

“You do realize you’re making it sound like she’s our love child, in need of a babysitter during the day?”

Chase didn’t laugh. What the hell was stuck up his ass?

“Dude.” I nudged him. “Snap out of it. What’s wrong?”

“I—” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m just really—”

“Nixon!” Trace burst into the room and threw her arms around my neck, then sat on my lap. “I missed you.” Her lips found mine and my concern for Chase went out the window.

He cleared his throat a few times before Trace pulled away from me. “So he told you, then?”

“I was about to.” Chase’s voice cracked.

“Tell me?” I asked, looking between the two of them.

“Luca.” Trace sighed. “That scary-looking Nicolosi guy? He followed us today.”

“What the hell!” Still holding onto Trace, I reached over and smacked Chase in the shoulder. “Is that what crawled up your ass and died? You can’t just keep that from me, man. I need to know these things. Why didn’t you text me?”

“I wasn’t thinking.” Chase swallowed and looked away. “I’m sorry. I guess I was in such shock that I didn’t know what to do, but don’t worry, Tracey was safe. We were fine.”

“Fine?” Trace snorted. “Nixon.” She turned in my lap and touched her forehead to mine. “Chase has been acting like a complete lunatic all day. I think he’s defective.”

“I’m not defective!” Chase yelled.

“And he’s not a toy…” I defended, smirking.

“Plaything.” Tracey nodded. “Definitely a plaything, but what I’m saying is, he’s been so damn depressed all day that I can’t handle being around him.”

“Right here. I’m sitting right here.” Chase sighed.

“Please?” Tracey kissed my mouth, licking part of my lip ring and then nibbling my lower lip. Her lips trailed to my ear where she whispered, “Something is very wrong.”

I nodded and pulled her face away from mine, being sure to kiss her nose as I looked into her eyes. “Go change into some comfortable clothes for dinner okay? I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay.”

Once Trace was out of earshot, I reached over and grabbed Chase by the arm, dragging him with me all the way into my father’s old study. I closed the doors behind me.

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