But Rafe already told me as much—they’re under Gino’s thumb. Even Branden admitted as much.
“You want to talk about Faith?” Gino says. “Fine. Let’s talk, starting with one little question. You look like a smart girl—who do you think led her to Rafael?”
I feel my eyes widen before I can disguise any reaction.
Still smiling, Gino reads me clearly and nods. “Oh, yes, baby. And the dumb motherfucker couldn’t even sell me out right.” His upper lip curls back from his teeth, his eyes unfocused once more. A part of me shies away from the assessment at first, but there’s no way around it now. He’s desperate.
And terrified.
“Why?” I ask, more confused than ever. “Were you trying to set him up?”
It would make sense, fitting his cartoon villain persona, but his brow furrows to betray an emotion I least expect. Not smug pride. Just grim irritation.
Hoarsely, I propose another option, “Were you trying to warn him?”
He leans forward, fixing me with a chilling stare. “And if I were?” I can barely hear him above the pulsating rock music—by design, I suspect. His eyes flit around the room, revealing the same paranoia as the girl in the bathroom.
“So you sent Faith to warn Rafe. Why?” I can barely keep the disbelief from my tone. “Why attack him then? Unless you really believe he set the fire.”
Any minute, I expect him to laugh or break into some super villain sermon.
Instead, he looks down at his hands, his jaw clenched. “Because some shit isn’t worth it. And as much of a pansy fucker Rafael is, I know he’s a boy scout. Though, apparently, not a very fucking good one.”
Some shit isn’t worth it…
“I guess this wasn’t all your idea?” I surmise, deliberately skirting naming the topic outright. Again, I keep staring at the various dancers with increasing dread. Despite Gino’s confession, I can’t ignore the obvious—if he attacks me now, there isn’t much I could do to stop him. “Why tell me all of this?”
He lifts his hands tiredly, his smile lopsided, teeth bared. “I’m dead anyway,” he says simply. “I’m in this shit too fucking deep. But thanks to your boyfriend, I no longer have a choice.”
“Why?” I ask hoarsely. His tone unsettles me more than him attacking me would. Gone is the cocky swagger I’d expect. All that remains is an emotion that eerily mirrors how Branden had looked pacing his living room.
Raw, open helplessness.
“Who are you working for?” I ask.
“Who do you think?” he snarls, practically lunging across the table.
I jump back, scrambling for the end of the booth, but he doesn’t make a move to stop me.
“Are you that fucking dumb?” he demands, curling his hands into fists. “I’ll give you a hint. Someone who wouldn’t want his lackey to know where the real money comes from. Not the same darling nephew who put his own father in prison. Someone with a lot more to fucking lose than me. You mentioned the fire? Ask yourself who benefited from it. Maybe the guy who could spin it as retribution for a dead girl when in reality, he hasn’t done a damn thing about it?”
The answer is elusive, and I’m tempted to call his bluff—he’s trying to confuse me on purpose. But then something in my brain clicks.
“Rafe’s uncle?” I rasp, unable to disguise my shock. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Doesn’t it?” With a smug grin, Gino sits back, folding his hands before him. “Rafe plays it as though he’s a tough, hard-ass, but deep down, baby? He’s a fucking pussy. With him in charge, Shen has a loyal soldier, but one who plays by the rules. Since he’s had the reins, the triad has retreated from the game in every sense of the word. What do they do now? Shake down business owners for chump change. There’s no real money in that. But Shen knows that no matter how hard he tugs on his little puppy’s leash, Rafe won’t hesitate to bring him down if he goes too far. The only problem? All the money he funnels into his life, including that nice political run, doesn’t come from nowhere.”
And maybe he’s right. Despite his bravado and tough persona, Rafe had allowed Mr. Zhang to rack up a sizeable debt—only to pay it off himself. That act reveals more than what he made it seem. He’d deliberately avoided extorting the money another way.
Then he took the loss, opening himself up to his uncle’s retribution.
“I thought Mr. Shen wanted to keep his hands clean,” I blurt, parroting Rafe’s own insistence on that fact.
Gino chuckles. “Bullshit. When his precious nephew bailed, Shen just found another fucking patsy.”
I don’t think he’s lying. He’s too tense, hunched forward, frustration coiled in his posture.
“You?” I ask, stating the obvious.
He sits forward again, but this time I don’t react, even as his breath hits me full in the face. “You have no fucking idea. And if you think me telling you this shit changes anything, then you’re wrong. It’s already too late, baby. For you, your precious Rafael, and—” He breaks off suddenly, his gaze cutting over my shoulder. “What the hell?”
The back of my neck prickles in warning before I even turn to see why. A tall figure is barreling toward us like a storm, shoving his way through anyone who tries to slow him. In his wake, two bouncers stagger, one clutching his stomach. Only now do I remember the phone in my purse, still relaying everything we’ve been saying.
And Rafe looks like he’s heard every last word. His eyes blaze like fire, his hands curling into fists.
I’m stepping into his path before I realize it, bracing my hand against his chest. “Rafe, don’t!”
He easily shrugs me off, heading for the booth where Gino eyes him warily, still seated.
“You think this is funny?” Rafe asks. He forms a
