Reece stood completely still and stared.

She wasn’t done.

“I have no idea why Val Cinders didn’t divvy it up between his kids, but he didn’t. Then again, word on the street is that they didn’t like him much and he returned the favor. And my investigator reports that will was ironclad. He wanted none of that money to go to Xavier, Dahlia, and Wilona, and he made certain that it wouldn’t. Apparently not a nice guy, he set his wife up with only a stipend to come off the interest of that money but that stopped when she passed. Bad blood runs in that family, it would seem.”

Reece remained silent.

Nina kept going.

“My investigator dredged this up and she also looked into Xavier’s finances. He isn’t even hiding it. He’s got all those funds, not in trust, held local, and he’s been accessing them almost since the girls inherited them. We haven’t figured out quite yet why that money never was put in a trust, though. That said, there is still a very large sum of money in those accounts. In fact, as my investigator sees it, there’s three million nine hundred and seventy-five thousand, two hundred and two dollars and sixty-seven cents.”

Reece said nothing and moved not an inch.

Nina continued, declaring enthusiastically as she clapped her hands in front of her, “We’ve got them!”

“She lost her home,” he replied, his voice low, dangerous.

Angry.

Nina’s smile faded.

“She lost her business,” Reece went on.

“Reece—”

“She lived in a shit, unsafe, studio apartment, sat on used furniture, had a crap TV, and worked for near-on-minimum wage to keep her shit together.”

“I—”

“He knew it. Everyone in town did.”

“He probably did, but—”

“That money was hers. That money was her sister’s. She could have approached the courts to release it and used it to raise her nephew.”

“That’s likely true. However—”

Reece leaned in and interrupted her, rumbling, “Bury that f**ker.”

Definitely reading his words and tone, Nina jumped off the desk and, lifting a placating hand, tried again. “Reece—”

But he cut her off.

“I want the money. I want the boy. Zara’s thirty-two, almost thirty-three. She had access to that money, she could have taken care of Zander. She had that money when she needed it, she could have ridden it through that rough patch and he f**kin’ knew it. He let his daughter swing.” He leaned back and ordered, “Bury him. You can land his ass in jail, do it. I want him f**ked up, Nina. I want f**kin’”—he leaned in again, barely controlling the fury boiling through his fame—“blood.”

“Okay, Reece,” she agreed quietly, dropping her hand.

“You throw everything you got at him, Nina,” he ordered. “I don’t give a f**k what the cost. You… make… him… bleed.”

She nodded, studying him carefully. She did this for long moments.

Then Nina Maxwell smiled.

* * *

So pissed, he could barely see, after leaving Nina, Reece ran an extra two miles to try and work that shit off.

It didn’t touch it.

Now he had to get back to Zara. Share more news about her f**ked-up family. Rock her world yet a-fucking-gain.

She already knew her father was an extreme ass**le. He had no idea how she’d respond to those extremities expanding.

But he had to get home. He’d been gone longer than normal and she’d worry.

He wished he could keep running.

He couldn’t get it out of his head, the state of her house when he first walked into it months ago, that couch, that shit-ass coffee table, that f**kin’ TV. And her studio without a peephole and a chain he popped with no f**king effort.

His cookie, living like that. His woman, unsafe. His girl, nearly broken.

All because her dad was an ass**le.

If Reece hadn’t come back, she’d still be there and she’d stay there. Even if she found out about Zander, she’d never approach Nina to fight for him. She’d never know she was a millionaire.

But he came back and it was f**king whacked but he had Dennis Lowe to thank for it. An ax murderer woke his shit, made him sort himself out.

It was insane but it was true.

Dennis Lowe had taken lives but saved his.

And Reece did not at all like thinking that shit.

Trying to control his fury, when he hit the parking lot to their apartment building, he slowed to a jog and forced his mind to the fact that, when they got her money, she’d be set. She wouldn’t have to worry about that shit ever again.

They also finally had the means to f**k her father and get her nephew.

And last, not the best of this news but not shabby either, the conversation he’d had with their landlord a while back had borne fruit. She’d not wanted to let them out of their contract unless they had someone to rent the space. But she’d called that morning to say she’d found someone to rent the unit. They were free to leave at the end of the month.

A new start. A nice house in a good neighborhood, shitloads of money in the bank, three bedrooms, one Zara’s sister’s boy would sleep in.

And finally, after a shit life and taking way too f**king many hard knocks, his girl would have it good.

On that thought, Reece felt his anger subside.

“Mr. Reece!”

His head turned and he stopped dead at what he saw.

Wilona Cinders, Zara’s aunt, was walking swiftly his way.

His fury instantly came back.

But instead of letting it loose, he forced himself to shake his head.

“We got attorneys. Your brother does, too. We talk through them,” he told her, turning away and moving toward the stairs that led up to their breezeway.

“Mr. Reece, please, you’ll want to hear what I have to say,” she called.

He could hear her heels on the tarmac and he didn’t pause.

But he replied, “That’s extremely doubtful.”

“Mr. Reece!” This was a cry. “Xavier is threatening to take Zander away from me!”

“Your problem,” Reece returned, taking the first four stairs in two strides.

“He’s taking him away because I told him about his mother and aunt,” she said, slightly breathless and her words made Reece stop.

He turned and looked down at her.

“Thank you,” she mumbled the instant he did.

“You got two minutes,” he declared.

“I need to talk to Zara,” she stated and he shook his head again.