“We also need to document these flowers in our database,” Evan added.
This clicked something in my brain. “You have a database of creepy gifts and threats? Does that apply for all of you or just me?”
Evan looked startled at my question, and I figured he didn’t know Beck had told me about the other threats left at the Deboise manor after I moved out.
“All of us,” Jasper answered with a lazy grin. “Some of us have thicker files than others though.” He winked, like it was some kind of competition to have the most death threats. Crazy fucks.
“That’s nuts,” I muttered. “But if you guys have this many threats, wouldn’t Katelyn? She was a Huntley heir, after all. Shouldn’t she have had just as many crazy fucks leaving gifts on her doorstep?”
The guys considered this, and Evan nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised to find they do. Most people with considerable wealth, influence, power, or status get death threats; it’s just part of the gig. Anyone would have to be dumb as fuck not to keep a record of them though. You never know when a harmless stalker will escalate.” He must have just seen where I was going on this line of thought, and he gave me a long look. “You think Katelyn could have been killed by a normal crazy?”
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, and I folded my arms over my chest. “I just know it wasn’t Dante. So shouldn’t we see if anyone has checked her ‘database’ for any threats of stabbing?” I had air quoted the word “database” then immediately felt like a child, so I tucked my hands back under my armpits.
“Someone at Huntley probably already checked it,” Dylan offered, but the frown on his face said he was thinking about it.
I snorted a sound of contempt. “I bet they haven’t. Everyone is so fucking sure Dante killed her, why would they bother looking for another suspect?”
“She’s got a good point,” Evan backed me up. “Not saying the killerhadsent Katelyn a threat, but if there is enough reasonable doubt, then they surely can’t convict Dante.”
“Unless he really is guilty,” Beck snapped, standing up from his chair and stalking closer to me. “After all, he has a history of violence against women.”
Anger burned through me, and I snarled at him. “He didn’t kill that bitch, and you know it. I don’t know what the fuck he did to get your panties in a wad since he’s been injail,but you need to get over it.” I poked him in the chest, refusing to be physically intimidated by him.
Beck just glared. Typical.
My phone buzzed then, and I realized it was Eddy.
Eddy: Get me out of here, girl! I can’t do the family thing any longer.
Eddy had been with her grandparents in Texas since the Dante thing, and even though she complained, I secretly thought she was happy to get away from all the Dante drama.
Another buzz.Eddy: Grandpa just challenged me to chess. Fucking chess!
I laughed. “Good news?” Beck said, arching an eyebrow at me.
“Just Eddy,” I said, shooting back a quick text before pocketing my phone. “She’s dying at the ranch.”
Jasper snorted. “Glad they stopped inviting me there. Only so many times I can see our grandfather bang the maid and grandma take sixteen different pills with breakfast before it starts to get old.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Dramatic much. At least Eddy has been safe with your fucked up family. Away from Jefferson.”
Jasper nodded. “There is that. But she’ll be back soon, and then we’ll have to make sure this doesn’t touch her.”
Keeping my friends safe was the top of my list, and I truly believed the only way to do that was to ensure that all of Delta’s board was gone.
Permanently.
10
Rolling up to the Delta office some hours later I felt like I was playing a role. I wasn’t Riley Jameson, chick racer and poor orphan. I was Riley Deboise, heir to the Deboise family fortune and future leader of Militant Delta Finances. This time I’d dressed the part. Power suit, black and white, with my favorite heels.
I looked rich and successful, my long dark hair slicked back in a high ponytail, the ends dead straight from my flatiron. Still, when my heels clicked across the marble foyer as I followed Beck with Dylan beside me, I couldn’t help feeling like the worst kind of imposter.
Three months ago I’d been a teenager living in a low-income area. Now I was an heir to a fucking billion dollar company full of sociopaths.
Weird.
The doors to the elevator slid open soundlessly and the three of us stepped into the mirrored box and remained silent while the doors closed again behind us.
