Trace’s head jerked up, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”
“Roman is working off his debt. In the organization,” Anson said, his voice cooling. “The only problem is, the longer he works there, the more debt he racks up.”
Sutton’s fingers dug into the back of my hand. “They’re still supplying him?”
Anson nodded, a grim look on his face. “It’s how they keep him chained. He deals, he uses. Rinse, repeat. But the word in interoffice communications is that they’ve started using him as an enforcer. Apparently, he has a taste for it.”
Color drained from Sutton’s face, and I glared at Anson. “Was that really necessary?”
Sutton shook her head. “I needed to know.” She looked up at Anson. “And if they know I’m with Cope now. That he has money…”
That fury was back in Anson’s face. “They could come for you and Luca both.”
41
SUTTON
Walter seta dish on the stack of clean ones, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. He stilled, the lines around his eyes deepening with concern. “Are you all right?”
I did my best to force a smile but knew my performance was less than Oscar-worthy. “My sleep schedule is all off thanks to those couple of sick days. I didn’t get enough last night.”
That wasn’t exactly a lie. My sleep had been fitful at best. Every time I found it, it was punctuated by nightmares of Roman grabbing Luca or hurting Cope. Finally, I’d given up altogether.
But when Cope found me in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea, he’d taken me back to bed and distracted me in all sorts of ways. I hadn’t minded that as much.
Walter’s mouth thinned into a hard line. “You don’t have to tell me exactly what’s going on, but I know it’s more than just a break-in. Those guys puttin’ in the new security system look like ex-military. So, you just tell me what I need to keep an eye out for.”
I sighed. I couldn’t outright lie about this to Walter. It wasn’t fair. Pulling out my phone, I scrolled to the mugshot Trace had textedCope and me this morning. It was the most recent photo of Roman he could find.
The man looking back at me from the image was a stranger. He’d lost a good forty pounds, his eyes were sunken in, and there was an almost gray cast to his skin. Still, I forced myself to show it to Walter. “If you see this guy, or if anyone comes in here with a Russian accent, call Trace.”
Walter glared down at the photo. “Who is he? Russian mob?”
“He used to be my husband,” I whispered.
Walter’s eyes flared. “Seriously?”
I nodded. “And now he’s bad news.”
Walter’s jaw hardened, and anger flickered in his eyes. “He’s not going to hurt you here. I’ve got a frying pan and know how to use it.”
Warmth flooded my chest, and I couldn’t stop myself from throwing my arms around the older man. “I love you.”
He patted my back. “Love you like you were my own. And you deserve so much better than whatever he gave you.”
“It was worth every ounce of pain because he gave me Luca.” I would’ve taken that beating and heartbreak over and over if I got my son.
Walter pulled back, the anger in his eyes melting into pain—for me. “That boy is so lucky to have you as his mama.”
“Walter, I do not need to cry on top of everything else today.”
He chuckled. “Fair enough. But I want you to tell me if you need anything.”
“I will. I promise. But I think Cope and his family have it pretty well covered.”
Walter shot a grin in my direction. “Good to see that boy doesn’t need any more common sense knocked into him. But I’m still gonna warn him to treat you right.”
“Walter…”
