Page 158 of What's Left of Us

“You can’t help him,” I state.

The stranger scoffs. “Nobody can. I wish I’d never accepted his business in the first place. But a mad man’s logic is a sane person’s confusion.”

What does that mean?

He darts out the door before I can ask.

Leani tugs me into the kitchen. “Evan Maloney. That’s his lawyer who’s done very sketchy work for your father. Nikolas has worked with him on deals that the Coleman legal team didn’t want to touch. And I know for a fact that the business Maloney and Nikolas have done is hardly the legal kind.”

My brows pinch. “Then what—”

A door slams, and footsteps creak along the floorboards of the hallway.

Leani presses a finger to her lips to silence me, her eyes warily moving away from the archway as my father beelines for the front door.

When he slams it closed behind him, she closes her eyes and releases a shaky breath.

“I don’t know what you plan to do with those recordings, but you should know that everything comes with a price. But no matter what, you’ll always wind up paying something for freedom.”

“What’s the price you’ve paid?”

“I will never be free, Georgia. But I will accept any form of peace I can get, even if it takes everything away from me.”

*

Clenching and unclenchingmy fists, I walk through the front door of the high-rise and go over to the directory by the elevators.

“Can I help you with something?” the woman behind the desk asks with a smile.

I turn around and offer her a sheepish look. “I was told that Luca Carbone was here today. Do you know what floor he’s working on?”

Her eyes widen a fraction. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Oh. Well, no—”

“Mr. Carbone and his son are very busy.” She cuts me off. “I’m afraid nobody sees him without an appointment.”

I can tell there’s no room to convince her, but before I can even try, the elevator door opens, and she quickly stands. “Mr. Carbone, I was just—”

The second Luca sees me, he looks over his shoulder at the elevator where a group of men are talking as they begin entering the lobby, then grabs my arm and pulls me into the nearest room.

When we’re closed into what looks like a cleaning closet, he flicks the lock. “What are youdoinghere?”

His tone has me standing straighter, which puts me closer to his six-foot height. “I need help.”

“Then why don’t you ask the detective?”

I glance at the door, where voices are gathering by the front entrance. “Because you know this world better than I do, which means you’re the only one who can help me with what I need.”

The way he looks down at me doesn’t make me uncomfortable, but it does make me wonder what’s going through his mind. There’s too much interest lingering, and it reminds me of what Lincoln said that day. “You have my attention.”

Wetting my lips, I try taking a step back to put as much distance as possible between us. It’s hard to do in the tiny space, and I bump into a bucket and broom. Luca catches it before it topples over, his quick reflexes bringing us chest to chest as he slowly puts it back where it was.

Swallowing, I take a deep breath. “Can you please move?”

That grin returns, spreading across his whole face. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Georgia?”

I don’t entertain him with an answer. “Are you going to help me or not?”

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