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He cut me a glare. “You’re telling me, but it seems I’ve been outvoted. So, the titty bar it is…for now.” He cracked open the water and drank, leaning against the sofa. “What is it?”
The way he said the words made me turn and pace the floor. He knew…some things.But not all.
“Salvatore.” He gave a sigh. “You want to spill what’s eating you?”
I met those crystal-blue eyes. “You remember that night…the night they attacked?”
That haunted look returned. “Like it was yesterday.”
“They didn’t get the drop on Max in that hangar.”
He stilled, his gaze frozen on me as those clear blue eyes darkened. “Go on.”
“It was me.”
The furrow of his brow rose. “You killed your own bodyguard?”
“No, I killed the man loyal to my father and not me.”
“Interesting.” He was starting to get it now. “You making a play, brother?”
I swallowed hard and looked away, pacing the floor. “Yes,no.I don’t know.”
“Because if you are, then you should be hauling ass away from this damn city and taking Anna with you.”
“If I could, then I would.”
“Because your old man has the recording and is holding it over your head?”
I licked my lips. “Close enough.”
“You want my loyalty, Fin, then it’s yours, brother.” He shoved off the desk and stepped toward me. “But before we all go to our fucking deaths over this, be damned sure before unleashing the hounds.”
I saw it all. It’d be utter carnage. I knew that. My father’s men would defend him to the death. But Christ…he was my damn blood.
“I need the recording of that night in the hangar and I need it yesterday.”
“The Commander?”
“Is looking for it.”
He nodded. “Good, if there’s anyone who can hunt them down, it’ll be him.”
“Then you have my back if it comes to that. I can count on the Rossi?”
He came closer, grasped my forearm, and stared me dead in the eyes. “After what you did for me…you have my loyalty for life.”
55
Anna
The thud of books invaded. Something scraped against the door. I winced and tried to block out the sound. But it’d been the second time in the last hour he'd made his presence known.
I stiffened at the squeal of the handle, tearing my gaze from the command prompt in front of me and quickly hit the sleep button, killing the screen as he strode in. They called him Archer. But his real name was Arnold Smutter. An asshole with a heavily padded pocket.
“Are you going on break?” he asked, lifting the wand.
I scowled at the asshole. Ever since this morning with Fin, he’d been haunting me. “No.”
