The Damaged (The Insiders Trilogy #2) - Tijan by Tijan

If I was remembering how Torie and Tamara took care of me before my dad’s welcoming-Bailey-to-the-world party, I remarked, “I think I’ll be good.”

“Suh-weet! Give me a second. I can get dressed super quick.”

I grinned to myself. “Amazingly quick.”

She heard me and shouted, “Girl! Amazingly quick. You got it.”





TWENTY-ONE



Kash


Griogos Maragos’s picture was on my desk, staring up at me.

I got the report from my men. I knew how in debt he was, and not just to my grandfather. He was in heavy with the Bennetts and the Marakovs, both Mafia families. If you want to be stupid, sign up to owe them. He had payoffs to senators, mayors, commissioners. And I hadn’t gotten into what he was doing with his daughters. I knew there was more. There was always more. What was found, what had been done on his behalf, was always just the tip of the rest to come. There was a glacier underneath it.

I was going to bury him with this.

And his granddaughter was in my backyard. She was friends with someone I considered a brother, a pain in the ass for the woman I was already head over heels for, and she’d been calling me, texting me, and all-around being a nuisance for me.

Was this what she wanted to get ahead of? Could she have known I was going after one of my grandfather’s biggest assets, who was her grandpapa? It made sense to me. I couldn’t say if it would’ve made sense to her. Or was I jumping the gun and she was calling because of other reasons?

I didn’t know, but I knew I had to deal with her. I had to bring her in, converse with her, put her on a string. And if need be, I would reel her in. We may even have to take a trip overseas.

I wasn’t used to thinking about someone else’s feelings when it came to business. It was black and white to me. Bailey was good. Everything else about me was in the dark. No gray.

But, Bailey.

I had to think of her, but even as I thought it, I rejected it. Bailey could not know. If she knew, she’d react a certain way. She might whisper something, or squeak something, if Matt cornered her. And he would. If his sister was acting strange, his ass would be up in her face making sure she was okay and finding out what was going on to make her act off.

Matt, he couldn’t hold a lie. Not like this. He’d want to rub it in Victoria’s face.

I couldn’t risk it, and that whole sensation of feeling off balance myself returned. I was not used to this.

I could protect.

I could shield.

I could do what was necessary to enforce that protection. But considering feelings and emotions and being sensitive about someone else was totally new territory to me.

This was where I was.

I loved Bailey, but I had to do things that might hurt her.

Ripping into Griogos Maragos had factors that could touch on her, but I had to get it done. No matter the consequences.

I had his quarterly taxes for the past twenty years.

I had images of each of his children, bastard or not. I had their net worths, their spending habits.

I had the names of his current wife, his last wife, and his two mistresses.

I also had the bank account he thought no one knew about.

Every third month, a quarter of a million dollars was deposited into it.

Every third month, the day after that money got put there, he got a visit from Calhoun Bastian.

I had the locations for each of those visits, too.

What I didn’t have was any video or audio recording of those meetings. They were always set too far away for any listening device to get close.

I either needed to go on a hunting trip or I needed to hire a better private investigator. The ones I had were the best in the world. I knew this because no one knew I had worked with them. No. One.

That meant I needed to go hunting.

First up, lunch with his granddaughter.

I picked up the phone. “Victoria, let’s do lunch tomorrow.”





TWENTY-TWO



Bailey


“Men suck.”

Torie announced this to the world while standing on a table in a seriously scary biker bar, holding a shot in the air. I knew this already, because she had burped that confession to me in the bathroom, jerked her clothes in place, fluffed her hair, touched up her makeup, and strode out of there like she was on a mission to save the universe from an impending alien attack. Also at the table was Tamara, or Tam as she was sometimes called, and she was three sheets to the wind.

We had started at Torie and Tamara’s apartment, where they finished dressing, saw that I hadn’t changed, and proceeded to “make me up” (their words) for a night of drinking and dancing. I was wearing skintight jeans—my compromise because a miniskirt was not my thing—and a halter collar tank top that fitted me almost like a glove. My hair was in a braid. I had makeup on, makeup that shined and glistened and made me look like I almost belonged on a magazine cover.

When they started reaching for the jewelry, I stood my ground. I’ve never been a big jewelry person. It was my nonwoman card. Chrissy always gave me the same look they were giving me now, whenever she tried to gift me a bracelet. She knew necklaces were always out, but sometimes I broke down and took on a bracelet, until those started feeling too constricting. So bracelets were out, too.

But the pumps. I had the best pumps on. I hadn’t had much practice, but I was enjoying the whole wavering effect. Made me feel like I didn’t need to drink. I was already on a roller coaster.