a boy, either. Hardly old enough to drink, but had that bitch cared? No. He was rich and that was all that mattered.
From that moment on, heâd hated Brannonâthe kid had apologized good-naturedly after Leanna had seen him, scrambling away and tugging her dress down. Brannon had acted like he hadnât known, but the laughter had been there in his eyes. When his sister had arrived, Brannon had tossed down several bills, told the bartender drinks were on him, and had offered another apology.
Heâd wanted to make the boy eat that fucking money.
Instead, heâd just left and busied himself gathering up Leannaâs belongings. Sheâd let a fucking McKay touch her.
There had been other things since then, and as heâd worked his way closer, it had only gotten worse.
Heâd prepared for that, expected it, and dealt with each problem. He had a plan and nothing would stop him.
First he had just planned to confront themâlet everybody know the truth. But as he had gotten closer, heâd realized they were too stupid to understand and that his own hatred had grown.
Truth wasnât enough.
He wanted them to hurt, to suffer as he had.
Then heâd begun to dig deeper, heard more and more talk of that treasure. So much talk, so elusive, thought to be legend. But was it? Legend had basis in reality as often as not, so heâd dug deeper, read all the tales.
It had taken time, more than heâd liked, but heâd had plenty of it and nobody noticed him. Heâd been there in the background for so long. Nobody ever paid him any attention. Neither of them had even recognized him when they all met up again, years later.
That moron Brannon couldnât find his prick in the dark with a roadmap, plus he was always out at his winery.
Heâd long since learned how to keep Moira out of his way.
Then Neve had come home, ruined everything. She was such a nervous wreck, and she looked at things. She paid attention. It shouldnât have been hard to send her packingâafter all, she was nothing but trouble. Thatâs what they all called her. But planting drugs in her backpack hadnât worked to cause a split between them and sheâd just further ensconced herself in her family home and now he was having to watch his back that much more closely.
But heâd get it sorted.
He was too close not to. Too close to let it all fall away.
Lying on the bed, he stroked a finger down the journal.
It wasnât the original.
That one was old, priceless. To him at least. Locked up and protected from careless handling, heâd had to use caution when he made the duplicates. Even though the copy heâd painstakingly reproduced by hand was no more than a few years old, it was already worn, the leather cover smooth in places from how often heâd handled it.
His eyes drifted closed as he thought back to what heâd done.
Heâd left bruises on her.
It wasnât the first time heâd brought harm on a woman, but before it had been done simply in the name of expediency, carrying out his duty, the way he saw it. This ⦠it had been different. He could feel the soft, almost delicate arch of her neck, the trembling of her body.
Her voice had shook as she answered.
As she lied .
âItâs there.â
He knew it was.
Everybody did.
The whole fucking town was named for it.
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
Have Ella Sue make me a hot toddy . Moira was fuming.
She grabbed a bottle of scotch and splashed it into a glass, tossing it back. It burned the whole way down, and her eyes watered. That didnât stop her from splashing more into the glass and doing it again.
When she heard a noise behind her, she slammed the bottle down and turned around, her lips peeled back in a snarl.
Seeing Gideon standing there, she narrowed her eyes to slits and pointed to the door. âOut,â she said.
The scotch had done a bit to numb her throat, and she managed to
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