Elect(75)

“Nah.” He unloaded his gun. “I like to dabble every now and then when I see a damsel in distress.”

I snorted and put my gun away. “Same ol’ Sergio. Thanks, by the way. You must be—”

“The ghost.”

“Didn’t think you were a man for hire these days.”

His brown eyes narrowed. “A man does what he can do, to help family.” Sergio tucked his gun in the back of his pants and leaned against the marble countertop.

I swallowed and looked away. “Yeah, well… think you can help me get the account information?”

He snorted. “I could do it blindfolded. Let’s get this done. You’ve got more guns waiting for you.”

“I wait with bated breath.” I swore and followed him into Tony’s office. It suddenly felt wrong to be calling him Tony instead of Dad. But there was no love lost, and that was damn tragic. Parentless kids, all of us. Nixon, Trace, Mo, Mil.

“So.” Sergio sat behind the computer. “Word on the street is you need ten mil.”

“Word on the street? What are we? In a gang?”

Sergio chuckled. “What else would you call it?”

“Valid point.” I leaned against the glass desk and watched him log in to my father’s computer. “How do you even know his password?”

“I’m a ghost. I know all.” His hands sped across the keyboard so fast that it made me dizzy. “This may take a few minutes.” He motioned to a seat, but I refused to sit down. Not after having five guys shooting at my face and knowing it was my own family that had sent them.

This was only the fifth time in all my life that I’d been in my “father’s” office. I walked over to the minibar on the far right and poured myself a whiskey.

“Think you should be drinking, all things considered?” Sergio asked from the desk.

Ignoring him, I took a long swig and looked at the table next to the minibar. There were pictures. But they weren’t of me.

They were of him and Nixon.

With a curse I turned away. Was it always about him? Would it never be about me? How selfish could I get that I would even ask that, but… I wanted something that was my own, someone that was my own, and it seemed as of late I was either stuck with second best or picking up someone else’s pieces.

“Almost there, just keep your pants on,” Sergio called.

Again, I ignored him and searched more around the room. There weren’t any more pictures on the tables he had set up. Two chairs were in the corner with a closet toward the main door. Curious, I walked over to it and tried the knob.

Locked.

I pulled out one of my picks and had the door open in seconds. Shock wasn’t an adequate word to describe what I was seeing. Shock would have been a normal response. My response was anything but normal.

Horrified? Now that was better.

A shrine.

With prayer beads.

And a picture of Nixon’s mom. I could stomach that, I could deal with that amount of crazy, but the picture had Trace’s parents in it. I’d seen them only once when I was little but I’d also seen pictures. From what Nixon had told me, they were unmistakable.

There were red marks across every face in the pictures. My stomach heaved as I numbered how many faces had the red mark. Both of Trace’s parents… and my dad. My real dad.

Which could mean only one thing.

Tony had been snuffing out the entire family for over eighteen years.

And today would be his day of reckoning. His finale.

I hoped to God it would be a massive disappointment. I’d even tell him that to his face, right before I pulled the trigger.

“Done!” Sergio announced. I turned around and walked toward the desk while he scribbled something on a piece of paper. “So, the wire transfer will go to this account.” He handed me the paper. “Did you remember to get a briefcase?”

“In the car already.” I stuffed the piece of paper in my pocket and shrugged. “How are you in on this? Who are you actually working for? Me? Luca?”

Sergio’s eyes darted behind me. I turned and saw a camera nestled quite nicely in the corner. Great.

When I turned back around he was already walking toward the door.

“Wait,” I called. “If this goes badly… thank you, for what you just did.”

“We’re family.” He shrugged and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Try not to end up with a bullet in the head, eh?”

“I’ll do my damnedest.” I cracked a smile and took a seat on Tony’s plush leather chair.

How long? How long had he been planning this, and why the hell were Trace’s parents involved? I wracked my brain but couldn’t come up with any solution other than pure insanity.