I shoot Anthony a look:How the hell is she affording that? What am I paying her?
“You heard her,” I say.
He pulls away fast, weaving through traffic toward Richmond as rain streaks down the glass and Leoni silently twists her fingers in her lap, terrified for someone she loves.
We pull up outside a sleek, glass-fronted building—ten apartments stacked above street level, rain sliding down its mirrored surface. Leoni and her friend jump out before the car’s even stopped properly. She doesn’t look back.
Anthony waits until the doors close behind them before steering down into the underground parking. The first level is for tenants, all neatly marked bays and security lighting. Beyond the private gate, opened with a flick of Anthony’s key fob, we descend another level.
Down here, the air smells of polish and petrol. My cars line the wall, their chrome gleaming under the fluorescent lights, machines that cost more than most people’s homes.
“Find out how long she’s been living here,” I say, my eyes fixed on the exit ramp.
Anthony nods once. “On it.”
I step out and head for the private elevator, the one no one else has access to. It hums softly as the doors close, sealing me inside.
The ride to the penthouse is smooth and silent. Too silent. My reflection stares back at me in the mirrored panel, controlled, unreadable, but my mind’s still on Leoni.
Leoni Dove. Living inmybuilding.
Chapter Three
LEONI
Isaac is slumped against the wall beside the elevators, with his head tipped back and his eyes half-closed.
I offer the security guard behind the desk a tight, apologetic smile. He doesn’t return it; he just gives me that look that says, “You shouldn’t be bringing this kind of trouble here.”
I drop down beside my brother. His eyes flicker open, unfocused for a second before he manages a weak grin.
“Shit,” I breathe, scanning him. A black eye. Split lip. Bruising along his jaw. But he’s conscious and still has that stubborn spark in his eyes. “What the hell happened?”
He tries to shrug but winces. “I can’t walk,” he murmurs, his voice raw with pain.
“Why?”
“They fucked my knees up,” he mutters. “Just… open the lift. I’ll drag myself in.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You need a hospital,” I snap, already pulling out my phone.
“No.” His tone sharpens, a flash of the old Isaac beneath the bruises. “They’ll ask questions. I know a guy who can patch me up. Just get me upstairs.”
I bite back a curse and press the call button. The lift dings open, and he hauls himself inside with a hiss of pain. I follow, Courtney close behind.
Once we reach my apartment, he collapses against the sofa and immediately starts making a call. His voice is tight, like it’s taking every effort just to speak as he arranges help.
I pour him a generous whiskey, my hand trembling slightly as I pass it over. He takes it with a grunt of thanks.
Courtney kisses the top of my head. “I’ll crash in the spare room,” she murmurs. She and my eldest brother have a history. Enough that she prefers to distance herself when he’s around.
I nod, managing a tired smile as she disappears down the hallway, leaving me alone with Isaac and a hundred unasked questions burning in my throat.
“What the hell happened?” I demand, my voice sharp.
“A little misunderstanding,” he mutters.
“Little?” My voice pitches higher. “It doesn’t look little, Isaac! Who did you upset this time?”
