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I snort. “I bet you and your girlfriend were the ones who put me there.”
“No,” Cain says. “That’s what I’m here to tell you.”
“Sure you’re not here to make sure I stay out of your way? Permanently?”
Cain’s eyes narrow. “If I wanted you out of the way, you would have been gone by now. I can still hurt you, if you insist on being a brat.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask him.
“It’s the truth,” he answers, his gaze unflinching.
And I believe him. Damn it. I’ve had enough pain for a week, too, so I lower my gun.
“Talk.”
“Someone hacked into the cameras Allie set up around that lake house,” Cain says.
My eyebrows crease. “Allie?”
“Agent Chandler.”
I see.
“We still haven’t found out who, but the footage was used to frame you.”
“Yeah.” I nod. “I got that part.”
“I talked to the woman who filed the charges against you,” Cain says. “She said she was paid, but she doesn’t know by whom. The money was wired to her bank account.”
I scratch my chin. “I thought of that, too.”
“Do you know who might have done it?” Cain asks me.
I shrug. “Could be an enemy of the family. Could be a business rival. Could be some rich guy whose girlfriend I accidentally slept with a long time ago.”
“Or it could be someone close to you,” Cain suggests.
He takes a pen out of his pocket and hands it to me. My eyes grow wide as I realize it’s the same pen I found at the warehouse. The same exact broken pen with the company logo.
“Where did you get this?” I ask him.
“It was part of the evidence against you. The woman said she got it from your pocket and tried to use it as a weapon against you but to no avail.”
“Fuck.” The curse escapes my lips.
“So it is yours?” Cain asks. “From your office, maybe?”
I wrap my fingers around the pen. Should I tell Cain the truth about it? Can I trust him?
He steps forward. “What?”
I draw a breath. “I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re working with that FBI agent.”
He tucks his hands into his pockets. “You do realize I’m trying to find out who put you in jail, don’t you? We’re on the same side here.”
“I don’t trust that woman,” I tell him.
“Because she ruined your fun with a woman and then punched you?”
I glare at him.
He lets out a breath. “Fine. She’s my girlfriend.”
“I already know that. I’m not stupid.”
“We’re working together to bring down one of your father’s enemies.”
My eyebrows arch. “Who?”
“Tell me about the pen first,” Cain demands.
Fine. I glance at it.
“I found this pen at a warehouse that Bart’s final note led Jodie to.”
“Bart’s final note?”
“He was murdered and Jodie discovered he’d left her a note. We thought he was trying to tell us what he stumbled upon, what might have led to his death.”
“So the person who killed Bart works for the family company?” Cain asks.
“That’s what Jodie and I think,” I answer. “But we don’t know who.”
“I see.” Cain touches his chin. “And how did that pen get from the warehouse to that woman? Were you carrying it with you when you went to that lake house?”
“No. I’m pretty sure I left it at the mansion.”
Cain falls silent. I can tell what he’s thinking.
“You think my father tried to frame me, don’t you?”
“What?” Cain’s hand drops. “No. Orso would never do that.”
I shrug. “You never know. Maybe he was trying to teach me some kind of lesson, especially since I’ve been causing trouble lately.”
Cain shakes his head. “No. Not Orso. Someone else. Someone close to him. Just as I thought, there’s a traitor in the family.”
“A traitor?” I give him a puzzled look.
“Someone’s trying to take the family down from the inside. Maybe that’s what Bart found out. Maybe he was going to tell Orso. That’s why he had to be disposed of.”
I still find it hard to believe. But I can’t deny it makes sense.
“You’re sure about this? About the existence of this traitor?”
“Unfortunately, yes,” Cain answers. “The night… Antonio died, a lot of things went wrong. That’s because the Espositos knew we were coming, because someone planned for things to go wrong.”
My shoulders tense. “You’re saying this traitor is responsible for Antonio’s death?”
“Yes.”
My knees grow weak. I sit on the edge of the bed.
“And he’s also the one who killed Mom?” I ask.
“We don’t know,” Cain says. “It’s possible, or it could also be the work of the man Allie and I are going after – Sergio Bianchi. He used to work for your father.”
So it’s all connected, isn’t it? Antonio’s death. My mother’s death. Bart’s death. Who’s next? My father? Me?
Just then, my phone rings. I glance over my shoulder at where I’ve left it on the nightstand.
“Go ahead,” Cain tells me.
I pick up my phone. But I don’t answer the call at once, since the screen says it’s from an unknown number.
