Page 11 of Vicious Kingdom

My lip was raw from chewing on it by the time I returned home. The Tormentor wasn’t violent to others. He enjoyed the way the world doted on him. But he would attempt to take his displeasure out on me. I went straight to the home gym and began to warm up. The self-defense classes I studied in Germany were going to make sure I was never his victim again. Over the years, his touch had been grossly inappropriate. Fondling and forcing kisses, when he was happy with me. And when hewasn’t? Well, the smallest mercies, and there were only two where he was concerned, were that he had never raped me because he was waiting for our wedding, which in his sick, twisted mind was happening, and he only ever struck me in a way there was no permanent damage. Physical damage that was.

One day,I promised myself,he’ll never touch me again.

Chapter 5 – Leonardo

Iducked under the small awning that framed the door. Above my head, a cloud of insects buzzed around the light fixture. Swarming bugs followed me into the building. I swatted at a bloodsucker—disgusting little pests. At least it was mostly dark inside. The thunder of balls rolling down lanes preceded the crash of pins clattering into the automated machine that captured them for a reset. No employees were back here monitoring the progress.

Under a single light bulb, my brother perched on an old table, while another figure glowered in the shadows.

“Evening, gentlemen,” I murmured with a nod.

“You’re late.”

I pinned the Fed with a dark look. “Traffic was a bitch.”

“It doesn’t matter, you’re here now.” Sandro waved his hand.

“And we have seven minutes before we need to vacate the premises. The owner might be my buddy, but he’s not fond of me conducting business when it’s league night.” Mier shifted. “You’re being set up.”

“No shit, genius,” I muttered. The situation stank of something fishy—and it wasn’t the bowling alley’s stench, although that was ripe back here. The IRS was hot on my main operating corporation, and they were digging into that holding company—plus a few others under the same umbrella—and it was just a matter of time before they requested documents for the trust that ran the whole legal empire. “They have no good reason to come at me unless someone was behind it. So…cop, did you find out who it is?”Or are we wasting our time in this disgusting hellhole?

“I did.” Mier crossed his arms. “And if it was up to me, I might just sit back and watch the cards fall.”

The don shifted. “Tom.”

The special agent snorted. “But I like your brother. So for his sake, I’ll ask you this: Do you know Callahan Voss?”

My brows knit. “The state senatorial candidate?”

“He put the taxmen on your scent,” Mier revealed. “I’m not sure why he knew to come after you in the first place, but it’s done. He’s pushing them.”

My brother rubbed his hand against his jaw. “That’s helpful. Thank you, my friend.”

“Hold up.” I lifted my hand to pause the goodbyes. “How do you know it’s him?”

“Are you questioning me?” the Fed shot back hotly.

“No, just trying to understand.” My smile was anything but friendly.

There was a tick of silence before another lane of pins toppled with a deafening crash.

“Voss came into the White Collar Division. He requested the help of the head of that division, gave him a handful of businesses to watch. It’s a joint effort between our guys and the IRS.”

“Which other businesses?” Sandro interjected.

Miers rattled off the names. None of them stuck out. They were straight-laced corporations as far as I knew. We were the only ones with connections to organized crime.

The constant roll and crash, the whir and grind of the machines, was giving me a headache. I couldn’t think straight, couldn’t see a reason for the politician to come after Baldwin Acquisitions. I rubbed my skull as if it could stave off the ache behind my eyes.

“They are allextremelywealthy companies,” the don mused. Sandro slid a look to me. “You rub elbows with them, yes?”

Unfortunately.“Yes.”

“See what you can find,” my brother instructed. To the Fed he added, “Thank you again for your help, Mier.”

The Fed gave the don a clipped nod. “It’s time to leave.”

We dispersed, and the night air relieved the ache in my lungs from oil and dirty shoes. My head throbbed, however, as I moved to my car. I needed a bit of peace and quiet to process the turn of events. But it didn’t seem I would have that relief. Sandro slid into the front seat beside me.