Page 48 of Daddies of the Underworld

“They have what someone wanted them to have.” He scrambled to his feet, sweat shining along his hairline. “I didn’t steal their money. I swear on Mom and Dad, I didn’t.”

The oath hit low and cruel. “How did you know I was talking about money?” I took another step toward him. “Why were you there?”

He dragged both hands through his hair, the backpack thumping against his hip. “ was told to get the records. They needed them to get the money. I swear, Nina. I swear I didn’t take anything else.”

My stomach dropped. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Marco.”

“I don’t know!” He flinched at his own volume and glanced toward the door. “A man. He knew things about me, about you, about debts I owed. He said if I didn’t do what they asked, they’d hurt me. Then he said they knew exactly where you were.”

Ice crept into my veins, but I held back another shudder. “What did they ask you to get?”

“Just the files. Names and account information.” He stepped toward me, hands out like I might run from him. “Nina, I’m stupid, but I’m not stupid enough to steal from men like them.”

That sounded so painfully like him I almost believed him. Almost. “What was on the files?”

“Just what they told me to copy. They told me where to find it, and I left it where they said.”

“You copied confidential summit information.” Saying it out loud made me want to be sick. “Do you understand what that means?”

He paced back and forth in front of me. He’d taken off his shoes, leaving them beside a ratty blanket he must have taken to sleep on. “I understand I’m dead if they find me.”

“They won’t kill you.” I said it without thinking, without fully taking the anger I’d seen on Matteo’s face during the second it let his mask fall.

He stared at me.

Dante would not kill him without answers.

Matteo would not waste a useful prisoner.

Luca would do whatever Matteo ordered, but he would be the most likely to argue for me and Marco.

But the men downstairs were not all Matteo, Dante, and Luca.

Marco moved toward the small back door tucked behind shelves. “I have to go.”

“No.” I grabbed his arm. “No, you need to tell them everything.”

“And then what? You think the men in this house hold hands and talk about feelings until everyone feels better?” Panic sharpened his words into something ugly. “They’ll make an example of me.”

“They’ll protect you if you tell the truth.”

“They’ll protect you.” His eyes filled. “Not me.”

My grip loosened.

Marco reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “There’s a service gate past the old garden wall, right? The one near the dry fountain?”

My breath caught. I knew the gate. Staff used it years ago when deliveries came late and no one wanted to open the main entrance. “Don’t.” My voice dropped to a whisper that I had to force into compliance. “Don’t ask me.”

“I’m not asking.” His fingers closed around the backpack strap. “I’m going. I just needed to see you first.” He almost smiled. “I knew you’d find me. I needed you to know that I didn’t bail on you. I might be running, but I’m doing you a favor by going away again.”

The urge to scream at him, to rant and rave and demand that he stay and face the consequences of his actions almost bent me in half.

I did not give in to those emotions. They wouldn’t do anything except push an even deeper wedge between me and my brother. “Marco.”