"We don't know. Could be one or could be fifty… They may have enough to move against us if Lombardi was feeling traitorous." Joel's tone is cold, and I've had about enough of these damn surprises for one month.
I close my eyes and exhale through my nose as I inwardly curse Enzo Caruso. That wiry bastard has been circling my territory for months, waiting for an opening. If he's got pieces of the ledger, he knows where my money moves. He knows which accounts are vulnerable. And if he's smart—and he is—he's already planning how to use that information against me.
"Marco was desperate," Joel continues. "He was bleeding money and trying to plug holes any way he could. Selling ledger pages was probably his Hail Mary."
"And now Enzo has them?"
"Looks like he might have some."
If Lombardi was selling off my information, I'll know it in a matter of days, or maybe even hours. But I know something my enemies don’t know. Marco Lombardi wasn't just working for me. He was working for multiple families. I can't go all vigilante until I know which ledger sheets he sold off.
"Sit on it for the night. Let me think," I growl, then I hang up and toss the phone onto the desk. It lands with a dull thud. My chest feels tight. Marco's betrayal doesn't surprise me—desperation makes men reckless—but the timing couldn't be worse. The dead man's switch is already counting down, and now I might have Enzo sniffing around my accounts with insider information.
I turn back to the monitor. Riley's leaning back in her chair now, arms crossed. She's staring at the screen, but her focus has shifted. She's thinking about something, eyes running over the screen back and forth. I watch her squint and then rub her face again, and then she's on her feet, moving. I watch each camera as she progressively gets closer to my office where I hear a knock.
"Come in," I say casually, and the door opens and Riley steps inside. Her face is pale, but her eyes are clear. She closes the door behind her and crosses her arms.
"We have a problem," she says.
I lean back against the desk and fold my arms. "I'm listening."
"The previous banker had everything set up for a payment to go through today at this time. I was just sitting there doing my work when I got a notification that a vendor payment bounced."
My stomach drops as I lean forward, scowling, and plant my elbows on the desk in front of me. "Why?"
"The banker's credentials were deactivated," she says flatly. "My guess is someone figures he's dead. I mean when you don't show up to work for three days?—"
The coffee mug in front of me is too much of a temptation to my angry temper. I pick it up and fling it across the room and it shatters against the wall, shards of ceramic scattering across the floor. Riley flinches but doesn't step back.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snap.
"Christ, man," she hisses, hugging her arms over her chest. "Look, it makes sense that?—"
"Don't tell me it makes sense." I push off the desk and stand, taking a step toward her. "You're supposed to fix this. That's why you're here."
"I am fixing it." Her jaw tightens. "But I can't fix what I don't know about until it breaks."
"Then figure it out faster."
"Can't you see I'm fucking trying?" Her glare hardens on me. "You think I want my sister dead? I'm doing the best I can, but I'm not a miracle worker. I can't make a bank undo their automated security protocols."
The first time I saw this little defiant streak, I thought it was cute. Now I'm furious and I don't like the way she's openly giving me attitude. "Make the fucking payment go through, then."
Her eyes flash. "I already told you?—"
"I don't care what you told me." I lean in and narrow my eyes at her. "You figure it out. Hack it. Forge it. I don't give a damn how you do it. But that supplier gets paid, or your mother starts getting very uncomfortable questions about where her daughter went."
Riley's defiance ends the moment I mention her family because as I said, she's weak. It's a button she should never have let me know would work. Every time I press it, she bows like a worshiper come to offer sacrifices to their god.
Her face falls. Her eyes blow wide, and her throat works around a knot before she speaks.
"I'd need access to the bank's internal system," she says.
"So get it."
"That's not how it works. I'd have to bypass firewalls, spoof credentials, reroute?—"
"Do you know how to do that or not?"
