“You mean you’ll sleep when you’re dead, which is what’s going to happen if the Kings figure out you’re the one stealing from them. And, honey, they will if you don’t back off.”
“They won’t figure it out.” I minimize the transfer window and start covering my digital tracks. “I’m too good.”
Trinity sighs. “Everyone thinks they’re too good until they’re not.”
Glancing over, I see a frown on her face. “These guys aren’t just some random dudes. I’ve done some digging, babes. They’re criminals. Like, bury-bodies-in-the-swamp serious bad ombres.”
I glance over again and wrinkle my nose. “Bad ombres?”
She rolls her eyes and flips me the bird. “I’m being serious.”
My stomach twists, but I shove the feeling down.
Fear is useless.
Fear is what kept me silent all those years when Dad forgot I existed. Fear is what kept me from asking why he never had time for me, why nannies raised me, why boarding school became my home at six years old.
I’m done being afraid.
“I’ve been stealing from them for months now,” I remind her. “If they were going to find me, they would’ve already.”
“Or maybe they’re just slow to catch on. Or maybe—” Trinity cuts herself off, tilting her head. “Wait. How much have you taken from this guy?”
I minimize another window. “I don’t know. I haven’t been keeping track.”
“Frankie.” She groans.
I give her my full attention. “What? I haven’t!”
“Bullshit.” She arches a dark brow. “You’re a computer genius—a prodigy for crying out loud. You track everything. How. Much?”
Damn her for knowing me so well. I pull up my spreadsheet—because, of course, I have one—and scan the numbers. “From the club overall? About two hundred grand. From this Cooper dude specifically?” I whistle low. “Almost all of it. Like, one-fifty.”
The silence on the other end of the video chat is deafening.
“Trinity?”
“You stole one hundred and fifty thousand dollars from this guy?” Her voice pitches higher. “Frankie, what the hell?”
“He’s their VP. He’s probably done terrible things. He probably?—”
“You don’t know that!” Trinity practically shouts. “You’re making assumptions and ruining someone’s life based on this idea that these guys are guilty!”
“They ruined mine first,” I snap back, my throat tight.
And there it is—the truth I’ve been refusing to admit. Maybe Dad and I didn’t have a great relationship. He was distant, cold, and treated me more like an obligation than a daughter. But he was still my dad. He was still the only family I had left.
And now he’s gone.
“I’m sorry,” Trinity says softly. “I know this is hard. I know you’re hurting. But this isn’t the way, babe.”
“Then what is?” I slump back in my chair, suddenly exhausted. “The cops aren’t doing anything. They think he ran off with some bimbo or embezzled money or—I don’t know. They’ve basically written him off as another middle-aged man having a crisis. But I know something’s wrong, Trin.” I pound my fist against my chest. “I can feel it.”
“Have you considered that maybe the Kings didn’t do anything to him? That maybe they actually know something that could help you?”
I have considered it.
Late at night, when I can’t sleep, and the what-ifs chase each other around my brain.
