Page 115 of A Dirty Business
They were files. Stocks. Others were numbers that he had scribbled down. Photos.
“Stop, Trace. I mean it,” he barked.
I moved aside one of the papers, and I saw a phone. I hit the screen; it was my wallpaper. I picked it up and turned back. “Unlock it.”
“Nephew.” He lowered his head, trying to go soft with me.
“Unlock it.Now.” I tossed it at him.
He caught it, barely, crushing it to his chest with his arm. Giving me an annoyed look, the ends of his mouth pinched in, he moved his thumb over the screen and tossed it back. I went straight to changing the passcode, putting in the numbers I just saw him use and entered my own before I went through the phone.
It was mine. Everything was mine.
He’d made a duplicate phone of mine.
I checked my texts, seeing Ashton’s recent one there.
Seeing my sexts with Jess.
I turned, a cold rage starting in my stomach, and it was growing fast and fiercely. “What else do you have on me?”
“Nephew—”
“What else?!”
He jerked. Swallowing. He finished his wine—thank god for that—and put the glass on the table beside him. Then he held up his hands, both of them. “Now, listen. Trace ...”
“You have one phone; you could have others. I don’t enjoy my privacy being invaded.” Which was hypocritical of me because I had invaded Jess’s over and over again. I got it. I was getting it. But right now, I was dealing with this fire.
I just hadn’t decided if I was going to add gas or smother it.
“Tell me. Now.”
His head went back, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He had a resigned set to his shoulders. “I can tell that this meeting went sideways. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and that’s on me. I just needed to know. Your woman, you care for her. A lot. I can tell, and she’s in the law. I had to know, Tristian. I had to take precautions. Can’t you see that?”
“You cloned my phone. I’m not seeing anything right now.”
“You launched an investigation into me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you did. I have computer guys. They set up alerts, and they notified me that you were mousing around. You did it a while ago, on a Friday night. I even know where you were, at your place downtown. That fancy high-rise you own. I couldn’t believe it when they said your computer was the IP address that was looking into my finances. Thought it was a joke, but then you got more serious with the cop, and what was I supposed to do? Huh? You’re the only family I got.”
“Maybe there’s a reason.”
His whole face shuddered before he reared back, snarling. “Stop being an ungrateful little bit—”
I was gone.
I couldn’t hit my uncle. If I did, I wouldn’t stop. The other choice I had was to leave.
He stopped but shouted as I was out the door and headed for the stairs, “Where are you going? Trace?!”
I shoved through the stair door and was going to the front door. “Trace?”
I stopped, seeing Bobby standing in the front living room. It was set up as my uncle’s meeting room when he didn’t want someone any farther into the house. He rarely used it because most of his business was done in the kitchen or at his warehouse two streets over.
“Don’t talk to me.” I was going for the door.
