Chapter 7 · Only Key

"Give me the key."

Luca's fingers close around the chain at my throat before I even get my coffee down. Not gentle. Not asking twice.

"Get your hand off me." I don't move, because moving snaps the chain, and that key's been against my skin for six years. Don or not, it doesn't come off for him.

"Ledger box at First Chicago Trust." He doesn't let go. "Your name's on the signature card. Not mine. Not my father's, God rest him. Yours."

"Because my dad put it there before he died, and I'm not handing over the one thing—"

"Danny's counselor called." Flat, like it's nothing. Like it's not a knife between my ribs. "Twice this morning. You didn't pick up."

My stomach drops clean through the floor. "What happened."

"Nothing yet." His thumb sits right over my pulse, and I hate that he can probably feel it jump. "But it will, the second I stop paying that facility in cash so your brother's name doesn't ping on anybody's radar. Including the guy who inked himself up as a fed and got a badge inside your building last week."

"You're not using Danny's rehab as a leash.