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Nothing like what my father had.

I point at the pictures. “Are they⁠—"

“Linwood,” Hayes answers gruffly, plopping into the large office chair. Both the desk and the chair are new. “She’s hung up a few of his drawings.”

I make a face. “That’s romantic. Gross.”

“You have no idea,” he says, rolling his eyes.

I spy a strap of blue leather tied around his wrist; a parting gift from Collins’s days as a stage dancer. Right. He’s not fooling anyone. “Uh-huh.”

“Shut up and get over here.”

At his side, I look down at the screen. There are a few icons, but very little else.

“What do you need?”

“Shipping details.” He turns the laptop toward me and vacates the chair. “It’s Roman’s second’s laptop.”

My eyebrow raises. That’s a big deal. Getting close to anyone in Bruno’s family is next to impossible. It was why snagging those invites to his secret party was the opportunity of a lifetime.

Then, Valentina ruined it. The little temptress.

Dropping into the chair, I plug in my USB drive. I have a few, with special encryption-breaking devices. No one here cares about such things, but I designed them, and they’re my crowning achievement. I can access anything with these babies.

“I assume you have him?”

“Did,” he corrects. “Your sister and Linwood have him in the basement.”

I shudder. The basement. I hate that place.

“He’s dead?”

“If not now, he will be.” There isn’t any inflection in his voice. I forget, as laid-back as Hayes is, he’s accustomed to killing—to death and the carnage. That’s where he and I differ.

I don’t want to kill. I don’t want to be my father. I don’t want to carry on this bloody O’Brien history.

The program runs, and a few screens appear. I enter my codes and pull up the mainframe. My program does the rest, as screen after screen appears and vanishes before me.

The silence in the office irritates my ears. My fingers twitch to pull out my cell and sneak another peek.

Is she still dancing? She’s going to need water soon. I’ve seen her go until she drops from exhaustion. Maybe I should⁠—

The computer dings. Leaning forward, pressing a few keys, Hayes watches me work.

After a few more clicks, the hitter raises a brow. “Well?”

“Do I rush you when you’re at work?”

He scoffs. “Kind of, yeah.”

Fair point.

“Regardless, relax.” The program shuffles through a few more documents. They move to the side as more come as COMPLETE flashes. Hunched forward, I hunt through the five shipping spreadsheets my program hacked.

My eyes look up over the laptop.

“What are these shipments of, Hayes?”