Page 72 of Tell Me Why
He shrugs, more interested in staring at my breasts than answering my questions. Typical Cash, though. The guy gets more ass than an all-star NBA player.
“The why doesn’t really matter to me. Ten million dollars is ten million dollars. I don’t ask questions.”
“Ten million dollarsto find out who laced my coffee?” I blink at him, dumbfounded. Who has that kind of money to just throw around? The Sacred Sons, I guess.
He rubs his knuckles, and I notice they’re raw, bloody. “What can I say? I’m that good. Worth every penny.”
Cash Romano is the youngest in a long,longline of professional fixers. And it’s the perfect job for him, because he doesn’t just enjoy inflicting pain—he needs it like a normal person needs oxygen. He comes alive in the chaos of violence, feeding off every broken bone and spattered drop of blood like a drug he can’t quit. I’ve seen it, and Cash in action isbrutal,a stark contrast to the smooth, charming guy he plays for the outside world.
“So the Sacred Sons have given you the go-ahead to beat information out of their members?” I mean, that’s what he does. His specialty is extracting information from people. And why am I not surprised that the Sacred Sons have him doing their dirty work?
He releases a disappointed sigh, glancing down at his knuckles. “You make it sound so primitive. There are a myriad of ways to get to the truth, and not all of them unpleasant—” He looks back up at me, an arrogant smile stretched across his brutally handsome face. “You remember a few of my methods, surely…”
Thankfully, I never went all the way with Cash, but it’s not because I was clever and figured out he was using me. My brother caught wind of what was happening between us and shut it down. At the time, I didn’t appreciate Sin cock-blocking me, but Thank God he did. A few months later, I found out Cash was trying to get information about Shadow and Ash, and I was dumb enough to fall for it.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” I scoff, pushing past him. “You’re not that memorable.”
He catches my arm and pulls me to a stop, leaning in. “It wasn’t only about the intel,” he says in a low, gravely tone. A month ago, that tone would have melted me. Now, all I can think about is how he’snotChristian.
I glance down at his hand on my arm, then back up at his face. “Christian won’t like you touching me.”
At the mention of Christian, Cash releases me, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Say no more,” he says in an amused tone. “Wouldn’t want to upset the king in his domain. He’s the one footing my bill, after all.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You said the Burning Crown was paying you.”
“No, I didn’t.” There’s that infuriatingly arrogant smile again. “I just told you what I was being paid.”
Yeah, I guess he’s right. I’d just assumed Cash was being paid out of some Burning Crown slush fund. Why would Christian pay with hisownmoney? And more importantly, if he can just drop ten million like it’s nothing, how much money does this guy have?Jesus.
“Listen to me, Cash. I don’t know what you’ve arranged with these assholes, but promise me you won’t go around hurting innocent people.Oneperson did this.”
I don’t have any fidelity to these people, but a few of them have been nice to me, and I don’t want them tortured needlessly.
My statement snags his interest. He settles back against the wall. “One person, eh? You sound very confident about that. Did thisone personthreaten you?”
My eyes scan his face, and I war internally with whether or not I can trust him. In the end, though, I decide I don’t have anything to lose, at this point—someone has already tried to kill me once. Plus, Cash has a vested interest in rooting the person out.
The enemy of my enemy and all that…
With a huff, I say, “On the morning my latte was laced, someone left a note for me...”
“Oh, the note, yeah,” he says. “Christian showed it to me. But it was written in code, so I’m guessing you couldn’t read it. Why give a coded message to someone who can’t decipher it?”
“No idea,” I lie. “Someone obviously thinks I’m hiding something.”
“Are you?”
I meet his gaze, heart pounding. “It’s someone being paranoid.”
“Can you blame them? Your brother spilled a fuck-ton of blood on their front lawnandhe set it on fire…That doesn’t exactly foster goodwill.”
“Regardless,” I say. “There’s your clue. Now, go earn your blood money.”
As I walk away, he calls out, “I’ll need to talk to you again. Privately.”
Instead of turning back around, I lift my hand in acknowledgement as I enter Christian’s bedroom and shut the door. The room is blissfully silent, and it smells like Christian. Closing my eyes, I pull in a long breath and allow myself one fleeting second to relax.
I wish he were here, right now, because whether or not I want to admit it, I feel safe with Christian. As awful as he is, when I was in the hospital, I caught a glimpse of humanity behind those pale eyes. It was just a sliver, a part of him he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. But I know what I saw.
