Page 66 of Tank
He stares at me.
“We’re gonna work that event,” I continue. “And when Moretti shows up to use it to launder his money... he’ll be vulnerable. No guns. No backup. Just a slick bastard in a suit playing nice with society. That’s when we end him.”
Ricky exhales, low and shaky. “You’re insane, man.”
“Yeah,” I say. “But I’m also a damn good baker and I’m going to have a big job to do tomorrow. So let’s get back to work.”
“More baking?”
“More baking. Come on, what’s the problem? I thought you were on a roll.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Bianca
I jolt awake to the sound of my phone blaring on the nightstand.
It’s dark — that thick, disorienting kind of dark where I can’t remember what time it is, or even believe the numbers glaring back at me from my alarm clock. I blink some sense into myself and grab my phone off the nightstand. The screen glows with Alex’s name, and my heart drops straight into my stomach. Something’s wrong. It has to be. There’s no other reason she’d call me this late at night, because she’s never been the type to drunk-dial.
I answer fast. “Alex?”
Her voice is a ragged mess, choked with uncontrollable sobs and desperation that grabs hold like a vice. “Bianca — oh God, Bianca — it’s gone.”
My pulse slams against my skin like a captive trying to escape. “What’s gone?”
She hiccups through her breath. “The bakery. Butter & Bliss. It burned down. Denise called me crying. Said it went up like a bonfire. Everything’s gone. All the desserts. All the prep. She’s out. She’s completely out for the event.”
I sit straight up, fully awake now, my blankets tangled around me like restraints. It feels like something inside me slams shut with a force that vibrates my bones. Not the fundraiser. Not now. Not after everything we’ve pulled together.
Alex whispers, “Do you think it was him?”
She doesn’t say the name, but I hear it like a scream. Victor. My brother. It’d be just like him to do something like this, a violent little reminder of what happens to people who turn him down. The certainty of it sears through me, hotter than the fire that gutted Butter & Bliss. He couldn’t let me have this one triumph, this one chance to escape his shadow, and now it’s all up in smoke. So much planning, ruined in minutes. That’s how it always is with him. He destroys everything I try to build, just to show me he can.
I rub a hand over my face. “Maybe.”
Even though every part of me knows it was. It fits the timing. The threat. The precision. He didn’t need to confront me again — he just needed to remind me I don’t call the shots in this city. Everything that happens only happens with his say-so. He doesn’t even have to give the orders himself. He just lets his men do the dirty work, and they come back to him with proof that I’ve been put in my place. I can feel his voice in my head taunting me.
Alex’s voice wavers. “What are we going to do?”
I stare at the ceiling; the dark presses down on me. I’ve been fighting so damn hard to keep Safe House clean. To keep it honest. To save it. And now the entire event might fall apart. All because I tried to live up to my ideals. I thought I could bring in the money without bringing in the Moretti stain, but Victor’s made sure I remember the cost of cutting him out. That I’ll never escape him. Not really. Unless I cave. Unless I drag his dirty money into our fundraiser and let it poison the whole damn thing. There’s nothing I can do, except call my brother, work something out, and hope that I can figure out some other way to pump a bunch of sugar into everyone going to the fundraiser.
Unless…
“I’m calling for backup,” I say. “The fundraiser is still on. I’ve got a plan. We’re going to make this happen no matter what you-know-who might try. I’ve got this, Alex.”
The words shoot out before I’ve even processed them, and I hear the shock in her silence. I want to believe them too. I have to. I’m so sick of feeling helpless, of letting my brother tear everything apart while I scavenge for leftovers. Alex sniffles. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious. Go back to sleep if you can. I’ll handle this.”
I hang up before she can ask any more questions. Now isn’t the time for questions. Now is the time for answers and solutions.
I tap Tank’s name without thinking.
He picks up on the second ring. Like he was waiting for me. Or maybe he just doesn’t sleep. Or maybe, since he’s a baker, it’s only natural for him to be up this early in the morning. Hell, he’s probably already got his fists deep in some dough, so what I’m about to ask him — this giant favor — won’t be that much of an inconvenience. Maybe. I hope. I need him. Need him to say yes.
“Hey,” he says, voice gruff and alert. “You okay?”
I blink. “Why are you awake?”
