Gio peered into the fridge and made a face. Not a damn thing inside that was even halfway interesting. The half-gallon of milk was expired; there were a few old takeout containers, and maybe a half-empty box of dried-out pizza. Probably some things growing penicillin in the back.
Not like Maddie’s refrigerator.
He fought the urge to close his eyes.
He wanted a fucking beer or three.
Or something harder.
Whisky.
He’d always been a Lagavulin man back in the day, but he’d walked away from it, same as anything else alcoholic.
Damn, he could use that burn in the back of his throat about now. The warmth in his belly. Lag was his favorite Scotch.
Gio could hit the liquor store. There was one around the corner from his place, but…
Jake.
He had a son now.
He already missed the little boy he’d only known for a few days. Putting him on a plane that morning, after the most perfect weekend of his life, had affected him in ways he hadn’t seen coming.
They’d been a family. Him. Jake. Maddie, and even her little sister.
Those days felt like forever, and the place his son had taken up residence in his heart made up for all the years he’d missed. Or at least, it was a start.
He couldn’t go back down the road of losing control. Gio hadn’t had a drink in too many years to count. It was too dangerous. Too dark and tempting.
Now, there was more than himself to think of.
Besides, Maddie had told him she’d relieve him of his balls if he hurt their son. He believed her. Considering how fond she was of them, and their companion, that was saying a lot.
Maddie. Shit.
Today had been a serious clusterfuck.
He’d walked out of the deputy chief’s office without so much as a glance in her direction. Hadn’t looked back, either. He’d been too angry. Too afraid he’d say something he couldn’t take back. Get his ass fired, instead of suspended.
She’d been collateral damage, really. His fury hadn’t been pointed at Maddie.
Suspended.
Fuck Patton and Olinsky.
Sure, he’d been in hot water at work before. Gio was reckless, took too many risks, but it’d been a long time since he’d been called to the principal’s office for a smack or two, and his work had always spoken for itself.
He got the job done, no matter what.
He hadn’t been suspended in years.
Besides, he’d spoken the truth; his ties to this case hadn’t affected his job. They’d just fucked with his head, and he wasn’t about to go around announcing that.
Gio could handle it, right?
If he still had Maddie.
“Fuck,” he spat.
He still had Maddie; wouldn’t have it any other way.
Gio probably owed her an apology for leaving like that, but it wasn’t like he was going to stick around to be escorted off the premises.
Fuck that.
He could play Patton and Olinsky’s game for a bit; and he really did need to call his union rep. The guy was likely going to have his ass.
The last few times he’d needed a rep, he’d been assigned to Brian Flanagan. The older man was boisterous and of Irish descent, and even if he had his back, he had no qualms about expressing what an idiot Gio had been to require representation.
This time was no different.
He’d get a tongue lashing before any helpful suggestions for sure.
His phone buzzed from his pocket, but he sent the call to voicemail with the side button, without checking to see who it was.
He’d been doing that all day. His texts had been going crazy as well, and he’d ignored all of them, too.
Everyone could fuck off.
Even Maddie?
For now.
He wasn’t ready to talk to her.
She would’ve never let him lie for her, so he expected her to tell him he was an idiot like Flanagan would, and he didn’t need to hear it.
At least for a few hours.
Was she still on the case?
Hopefully he’d saved her ass in that regard. She was his sister’s and Big Tony’s only hope.
Pounding on his door made Gio honest-to-God jump. Not to mention, exercise his cursing muscle a little more creatively than, “fuck.”
Maybe Maddie had come to kick his ass, assuming she was the one blowing up his phone. It’d been a few hours since he’d stormed out of the PD.
The knocking sounded angry, so it wouldn’t be a shocker.
He strode to the door and braced himself as he opened it.
“I’ve been calling you all fucking day.” Elise sported a scowl the size of Nevada, and her long blonde hair was in a messy ponytail, with more than a few locks slipped from the tie. Wisps framed her pretty face. She was…frazzled.
Her appearance was generally impeccable, even when dressed casually. That wasn’t the case today. His sister wore an oversized pale blue T-shirt, cut-off jean shorts, and flip-flops.
He would’ve bet money—and lost, evidently—that his sister didn’t own a shoe without at least a two inch heel.
Gio frowned, and not because she’d yelled at him by way of greeting. He hadn’t seen Elise, the designer snob, dressed this down in years.
She had a white banker’s box in her arms, with another at her feet. “Grab that box, and for God’s sake, put on a damn shirt.”
“Ummm…hello to you, too?” He ran a hand through his hair, but obeyed, bending at the waist to grab the white cardboard.
It was heavy, and he was curious as to how she’d hefted it all by herself. Maybe that was why she looked so out of sorts; she’d had to make two trips?
“Follow me to the table,” she ordered and walked past him into his apartment, as if it was her domain.
“I thought you were too pissed to talk to me?” he drawled. However, he obeyed, setting his box next to hers on what passed for his kitchen table.
The thing was third or fourth hand. The light-colored wood had scars over most of the surface, and a broken leg he’d had to fix. The new leg was a different color, but he didn’t mind.
He’d always liked it for the character it sported. It was durable and sturdy, and had been through some shit to come out still functional.
Kind of like him.
“I don’t have time for that. I need your help.”
When his sister met his eyes, there was more pain there than anger, and his gut dipped like he’d been checked with a quick elbow.
“Shit, Lise, I’m sorry.”
She looked away, probably because those big dark eyes went misty. When she met his gaze again, her chest rose and fell. “Do you think I’m guilty? Or Dad? Do you think we actually did this?”
“Hell no.”
Relief danced across her face, and she swiped at the rogue tear making its way down her cheek. Elise didn’t have much makeup on, and that too, was different than normal.
Gio liked her like this. Not that she was upset, of course, but in casual clothing and without the gunk on her face, she looked softer. Younger. More like his little sister.
He tugged her into his arms, half expecting her to fight him.
She didn’t. Her arms slid around his middle, and she let him hold her for a few moments.
“You really need to put on some clothes.” Elise pulled back and arched a finely shaped eyebrow.
“Why?” He looked down. He had clothes on. His favorite pair of dark jeans. He’d lost the socks and shitkickers when he’d got home, but he often went barefoot in his own place.
“It’s kinda creepy to hug my half-naked brother.”
“I’d rather have your snot on my bare shoulder than on one of my shirts. Washes off easier.”
“Snot? Ewww. I didn’t get snot on you.” Indignation overtook her expression, mixed with disgust.
It made Gio think of all the times she’d aimed that particular glare in his direction when they’d been kids. He smirked, and made a show of wiping his shoulder. “Hmm, not so sure about that. Fine, I’ll grab a shirt, and you can tell me what you’ve brought.”
She sobered, and her shoulders caved in, but she nodded. Her throat worked. His sister was fighting tears again, and Gio wanted to shoot something.
Or someone.
Armani-the-fucktard would be appropriate.
He went to his bedroom and pulled on the nearest shirt; it was plain gray and clean—probably. It’d passed the sniff test.
When he rejoined Elise at his table, one of the boxes was open, and she was thumbing through a thick stack of papers.
Gio grabbed a chair and took a seat beside her. “What’s all this?”
“Casino financials, all printed out from the back-up hard drives, redundancies from what your people seized.”
He wanted to wince when she said ‘your people,’ but waited for her to continue.
“Since the day after the warrant was served, Paul Allemand has had his best forensic accountants combing through every line.” Emotion darted across her countenance then, contradictory to her steady statement. She’d composed herself when he’d gone to his room, but his sister was far from okay.
“And?” Gio couldn’t really discuss case specifics with her, and not only because he’d been kicked to the curb. Everything he knew of The Giovanni’s financials from the taskforce’s work was bad. It wouldn’t make her feel better. It made her and their father look guilty of money laundering.
“There’s something wrong.” Elise’s bottom lip wobbled.
“What’ve you found?” He forced an even tone out, hopefully devoid of any judgement or emotion that might upset her more.
“Not a whole lot.” She whipped through the stack of papers with her thumb until it made a thwack sound. “That’s the problem.”
No shit wouldn’t have helped, so he kept his mouth shut.
“Marco was gone all day when your team came to the casino with the warrant.”
Gio tilted his head to one side. “Oh yeah?”
The cockstain had never called in, like Maddie had asked, and he’d been too caught up in her and their son over the weekend to process that until right now.
His sister nodded, then put her head down again.
“Did he happen to say where he was?” He kept his inquiry casual, because he didn’t want her to fall apart again.
He needed every bit of knowledge she was about to impart.
“He said he went to LA, to consult an oncologist for Dad. He said he didn’t tell me because he didn’t want me to get my hopes up. He claims he lost his phone, and that’s why he hadn’t answered my calls.” She stopped talking, but there was more.
Gio could tell from her posture, and how she avoided his gaze. “But…”
When Elise met his eyes, hers teared up again, and she bit her at tremulous mouth to stave off a sob. “I love him, Gio.”
He sucked back a curse and reached for the bundle of financials. It wasn’t difficult to free it from her shaky grip. He set it on the table and squeezed her hands. “I know, Lise.” He didn’t like it, but he could see the honesty of her feelings for the fucker all over her face. “You don’t believe he was in LA, do you?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and more of her hair floated up as she shook her head. “I want to. But…” The sob fell out then, and Gio sighed as he tugged her into his arms for the second time in less than an hour.
He didn’t speak; just held her, because she hated showing vulnerability, and his sister would need time to gather herself. He needed her to get that composure because he needed to know everything.
Elise’s big dark eyes were red-rimmed when she was done crying and backed away. She wiped her face and flashed a mock-glare. “Don’t say a damn word about snot on your shirt.”
Gio smirked. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He darted into the kitchen and grabbed the roll of paper towels from the dispenser above the sink.
She accepted it, then wrinkled her pert little nose. “I suppose you’re not grown up enough to have actual tissues.” She balled up a paper towel and blotted under her eyes.
He let the jibe slide, and shrugged.
Allowing his sister to work things out in her head was always better than barging forward, so he let her have a few more seconds.
Elise inhaled. “Marco put himself in charge of helping the accountants investigate. He was the one who requested all the back-ups. He was the one who checked off all the manifests, to make sure we got everything. He was the one who printed all the reports, and he even delivered them himself. He helped go over the numbers.”
“That’s what made you suspicious.” It was a statement, not a question.
His sister was a sharp cookie. Like him, she’d learned to follow her gut long ago.
She nodded. “At first, I thought it was because he was taking ownership, you know? Like he really wants to help, ‘cause he loves me. He’s good at numbers, too.” Her voice broke, but she forged forward. “He promised to help prove I’m innocent. Dad’s innocent.”
“What exactly makes you doubt that?”
Elise sucked in a gulp of air, probably to push away more tears. “This.” She leaned over and grabbed some papers from the box she’d opened, and shoved them at him.
Gio scanned the old-school style pale green and white striped paper, folded at a perforation in the middle, and complete with the little dotted rip-off strip at the top.
It appeared to be a manifest, and had a carbon copy still attached to the back.
He studied the printed lines of text in front of him. Each had a reference or record number in the left column, with the original date it’d been sent to storage to the right.
It didn’t escape his notice that all the dates were within in the last nine months.
“What am I looking at?”
“Missing records.”
“Missing? What d’you mean?” He lifted his eyes from the manifest, and his heart slid to his gut.
His sister’s expression was desolate. Desperate. Her slender hands were tight fists on her lap and her shoulders were shaking. Elise was fighting to hold herself together, and it shattered him.
“Marco…” She had to stop talking and try again. “Marco was the only one who checked the manifests against the materials we received from both data centers. I found that manifest at the bottom of an empty box. Only…” His sister sniffled. “There were no records to match the contents of the manifest. So I asked him if he had all the records in the conference room we were working in.”
“And he said yes.”
She nodded. “I checked everything twice. Those records weren’t anywhere to be found.”
“Then…?” Gio gestured to the two boxes she’d brought.
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks again, and it broke his heart.
He cursed in his head, then silently vowed he would personally escort the fuckwad to Hell. Maybe he’d even relieve him of a few body parts.
Elise pulled away when he reached for her hand. “Dad’s not tech-savvy, but he’s not a stupid man.”
He nodded, leaning back to adjust to the subject change. Gio let his sister get to the point on her own.
“We’ve always used two main back-up centers for all the important information, records, and software for The Giovanni. But when Marco and I finally convinced Dad to do the major overhaul on the accounting department, he would only agree on one condition.”
Gio straightened his shoulders and pushed to the edge of the chair. “A third redundancy?”
His sister nodded.
“A third redundancy Armani didn’t know about?” His pulse kicked up, his heart revving against his ribs before settling into overdrive. “Why?”
“Because he never trusts completely. Because some things should stay within the family, he said.” Elise’s answer was stronger, and she didn’t acknowledge his most tame nickname for the cockstain.
“So those boxes are—”
“The records from the missing manifests. Proof me and Dad are innocent.”
Gio’s head spun. “We need to call Maddie.”