Page 28 of Possessive Sinner
"One company owns the money," he explains. "But that company is owned by another company. Which is owned by another one."
"Like a Russian doll?"
"Yeah." He looks at me over the rim of his glasses. "Every time I think I've reached the end, there's another shell."
"That sounds… complicated."
"It is."
"Do they have the money?" I ask.
Pete lets out a quiet laugh. "Oh yeah. They have it. And then some."
"So what's the problem?"
He shrugs, still staring at the screen. "I don't know," he admits. "It just feels… off."
I lean over and kiss his cheek. "I know you." He looks questioningly at me. "You dig too much. You worry too much."
He smiles faintly. "That's literally my job."
"Just approve it and move on to the next one."
He studies me for a second. "You're probably right."
His fingers hover over the keyboard again. I slide off the bed.
"I'm going to take a shower," I say, stretching.
Pete nods absently, already looking back at the screen. I pause in the doorway. "But you're still going to dig," I accuse.
He glances up, guilty. "Just a little."
I cross my arms. "Pete."
"Okay," he concurs quickly. "Just for tonight."
I raise an eyebrow.
"I promise."
And so we go to sleep, and it occurs to me that, just like that, we're back at the same old routine.
A few weeks later…
The coke mess kept us busy for the next two weeks. Well, that and the spur-of-the-moment flight to Venezuela to help Massimo retrieve his son. A son he didn't even know he had.
Turned out that he'd knocked up an old girlfriend ten years ago, and now her kid had been kidnapped. I never thought I'd see the day when Massimo would be frazzled, but it finally came. He didn't exactly unravel, but the whole ex-girlfriend, didn't-know-he-had-a-son thing got to him.
I had a chance to get to know Jenna a little after she first appeared. Massimo ordered me to babysit her, which wasn't a hardship. Poor woman had been through the wringer. All banged up after she rolled down a hill. Her husband and kid were in the hands of the Venezuelans, and the worry was driving her nearly insane.
She turned out to be a decent person, with a pair of balls any man would be envious of. Enzo told me that while we were in Venezuela, she interrogated a man who tried to abduct her and got him talking when Enzo couldn't.
Their long-overdue wedding is in a few days, and tonight Massimo has invited the core group to dinner so we can all finally formally meet.
My phone rings just as I'm about to get in the car. Unknown number. Again. I stare at the screen for a moment before answering. I consider ignoring it, but I feel generous. Over the last few weeks, I've been watching Audra and Pete drift apart a little. I shouldn't be happy about her unraveling marriage, but I wouldn't be me—selfish bastard that I am—if I wasn't. The cameras don't have audio—one of the rare moments in my life when I listened to my conscience—but it's obvious that Audra and Pete are arguing more, that they're spending even less time together. Some days she looks so damn lost that it tears me apart. Only yesterday, I barely kept myself from storming out of the casino to get her out of there, to go pull her into my arms, no matter the consequences.
The phone continues to ring.
