The Inspector Walter Darriteau Murder Mysteries - Books 1-4 by David Carter (best finance books of all time .txt) 📕

“I’d like you to tell me what I’m doing here so I can get back to my business,” she says, her tone filled with ice and venom as she pins my husband with a glare. “I think this is rather inconvenient.”

“Inconvenient?” I spit, attempting to step around Lycan whose hand shoots out to hold me back. His hand slips into mine, his fingers tangling with mine, and I allow him to subdue me for the moment. “Did you also think it was inconvenient when you decided to fund a criminal organization?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, girl,” she says to me, her chin tipped in defiance as she regards me. The look in her eyes has my blood boiling. I want nothing to do with her. I want her to be locked away forever, but I need answers first.

“Does the name Father Lorenzo sound familiar?” I test, arching a brow, I watch as her face contorts from the cool, icy mask to emotion-filled guilt. But the moment it appears, it’s gone in the next second and she schools her features once more.

“Can you get to the point? I know a lot—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” I spit, causing her to wince at my outburst. I shove the folder across the table, and it stops right in front of her. We’ve made copies of the documents. The originals are now with the authorities, and once Lycan gives them the signal, they’ll arrive to take my grandmother away.

I watch as she picks up the manila folder and flicks it open. Her eyes widen for a moment before she lifts her gaze to me. “I can explain this.”

“Really?” This comes from Kahn who’s now on his feet glaring at her. He’s shaking with rage, and I don’t blame him. “Because my sister, who’s been gone since she was sixteen, might not want an explanation. The girls we found in the convent will most definitely not want to hear your lies about why you were supporting this bastard.” His voice has a violent edge to it, but he keeps his tone calm, and I’m in awe because I would’ve lost my cool.

“Scarlett,” she addresses me, and just hearing her say my name has my body shaking with anger. “There were things that I had to do to ensure you had a life, a comfortable life.”

“Don’t fucking blame me for this,” I hiss, rage fueling my words as I step past Lycan and toward my grandmother where she’s seated in the chair. I place my hands on the arms of her seat, getting in her face, I continue, “Does he know?”

Her brows furrow at my question. “Who?”

“My father.” I hold my breath. I’m not sure what I want her to say. If he does know, then would he have sent me to that place? I don’t know. But he happily signed my life over to Lycan, so I wouldn’t put it past Horatio Bardot to do something so sick and vile.

“He understood what we needed to do.”

“I want you and him to rot in hell.”

“Scarlett,” grandmother gasps in surprise at my vicious words. “That’s no way—”

“What? No way to talk to a criminal. Or to my grandmother who lied to me my whole life?” I push away, the chair sliding back an inch or two as I step into Lycan’s hold. His strong hands grip my shoulders, and once more, I’m grounded in safety. “If I never see you again, it will be too soon. Don’t try to contact me and never fucking come near me. You or my father.”

This time she’s on her feet, making her way toward me when suddenly Darius is in her face, his hand wrapping around her throat. “Did you kill my father?” The question is a low growl filled with pure hatred. I’ve seen Darius splattered with blood when he clearly murdered a man. I’ve imagined him killing someone, but I have never been more afraid of him than I am right now.

Grace Bardot is outmatched right now. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen my grandmother falter. “What?”

“Tell me the fucking truth. Did you, and that bastard you married, kill my father?” he asks again, and with every moment that passes, Lycan’s hold on my arms gets tighter. He’s afraid, worried about what she’ll say.

If she did, I don’t doubt Darius will kill her. He would squeeze his fingers, and her neck would snap with a crack. My stomach rolls at the thought of seeing someone die right in front of me. It’s not the fact that it’s my family, my blood, but more that I’ve never seen a dead body. Not even when my grandfather died.

I wasn’t allowed to go into the viewing room where his corpse laid. My mother kept me sheltered all my life and I wonder if it’s because of that, I’m scared of this moment.

“I… I loved him,” Gran says, her voice croaky from not being able to breathe properly. Her face turns a bright red as she claws at Darius’s hand. “H-h-he meant t-the world t-t-to me.”

“That’s not what I fucking asked you, bitch,” Darius rumbles, the words a low, venomous whisper that drips with the threat of him holding her life in his hands. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll just torture you, over and over again until you find it in your fragile old mind to recall the moment Conall Shaw took his last breath.”

Silent moments pass.

My lungs struggle as we wait for her answer.

The thrumming of my heart in my ears is loud as blood rushes through me. Anticipation coils in my stomach, and my hands tremble when I think about two boys, two young men losing their father because of my grandmother’s inability to be honest.

“M-my h-h-husband didn’t like him,” she speaks finally, and it’s as if my breath has been knocked from my lungs. She doesn’t need to continue because what’s she’s already said makes it clear what