Page 73 of Dark Secrets

James left Brogan to his work and jogged down the stairs. The sooner he could kill this abusive fuck and get him out of Delaney’s life, the better. Although part of him wished it didn’t have to be an accident so he could make the son of a bitch pay first.

Devereaux deserved every punch, every slap, every bruise, and every broken bone he’d ever inflicted on Delaney. All he’d get would be a death that was far too quick and people saying nice things about him at his funeral. It hardly seemed fair.

In the end, though, James would do what was necessary to set Delaney free, both from her tormentor and from himself. If he had any qualms about letting her go, any ideas about trying to bring Declan around and make him see reason, they died with Delaney’s story.

She deserved more than living a life where part of her would always be in hiding, from the cops or any friends she might make outside of the pub staff. She deserved a life she could live out in the open. And he intended to give that to her. By whatever means necessary.

ChapterThirty-Two

The sky had barely begun to pink when he pulled into the upscale hotel parking lot, and the asshole was late. He didn’t fancy playing chauffeur to the guy. He wanted to hand over the information, collect what was owed, and be on his way. He had a late morning flight to catch, and he hated getting to the airport too close to boarding time.

In the dim light of the lamps lining the wide sidewalk, he glimpsed a blond man with a slight build. He looked like the kind of guy you’d expect to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth. Good looking, tall, fit, and completely full of himself.

Devereaux stood by the side of the car for a few minutes before realizing no one was going to jump out and open the door for him. He gripped the back door handle and then changed his mind, climbing into the front instead.

He finished doing something on his phone before finally acknowledging he wasn’t alone in the car. “Simmons. I’m eager to hear your good news.”

His voice was smooth, his accent familiar, but there was an edge to it that was hard to ignore. The man was revved up at finding her, and that might work to his advantage. After sleeping on it, he’d decided his silence came at a steeper price.

“I’ve got it all worked up for you in a folder back at my hotel,” Simmons said, pulling onto the highway and following the map in his head back to where he was staying. “There’s a flash drive with all the pictures I took and a detailed report of the trail I followed.”

Devereaux was silent when they pulled into the parking lot, while they waited for the elevator, while Simmons used the keycard to access his room. He said nothing when Simmons handed him the folder and plugged the flash drive into his laptop.

His eyes tracking the page while he read the report was the only sign he was absorbing every bit of information. The heavy silence made Simmons uncomfortable. Other people rarely set him on edge, but this guy gave him the creeps.

“When my sister-in-law told me she thought she saw my wife in Michigan of all places and dressed in jeans, for Christ’s sake, I thought she was having one of her episodes. What else could possibly explain why my wife would fake her own death and leave me like that? After everything I’ve done for her?”

Simmons rocked back on his heels, unsure whether Devereaux wanted a real answer or not. Apparently he didn’t, because he kept talking.

“I mourned her. I buried her. I dedicated a scholarship in her name at her alma mater.” He clenched the folder so hard it crumpled in his hand and then seemed to collect himself, releasing his grip and taking a deep breath. “You said you had pictures?”

“Uh, yeah.” He tapped a key and brought up the images from the drive in a slideshow, stepping back when Devereaux bent over the laptop. “I think she’s living above the bar because she doesn’t leave the building much. Most of the time when I saw her outside, she was taking the trash out or greeting this guy when he pulled up.”

Devereaux’s head snapped up, and the look in his eyes was enough to have Simmons taking another step back. “Keep flipping through. He owns the bar. That guy,” he said when the dark-haired man flashed across the screen.

Devereaux’s taps on the key to advance the slide show grew increasingly more aggressive as he moved through the burst of shots Simmons already knew ended in a kiss. The guy was going to blow a gasket when he saw that.

He sucked in a breath as Devereaux neared the end of the burst, and when he reached it, the man let out a strangled sound and gripped the edge of the desk with white knuckles.

“Were there others?”

“What?” That was not the question he’d expected Devereaux to ask.

“Were there other men she was whoring herself out to?” His voice was low and dangerous.

“Not that I saw her with over the last few days.” Simmons scratched at the day-old growth on his chin. “Could be that she had other men, but I don’t know how I’d know about that for sure.”

Devereaux smacked the screen so hard Simmons thought he might put a hole through it and whirled, green eyes full of madness. “How the hell else would that little slut have survived this long if she wasn’t spreading her legs for a man in every damn city? She’s going to pay for this.”

“How you deal with it is up to you. I don’t need any part in that.” Even if he might enjoy watching her take that punishment. A lot.

“This kind of disobedience and disrespect for me, for ourmarriage,” he continued as if Simmons hadn’t spoken, “cannot be tolerated. She’ll have to be punished. She brought it on herself.”

He muttered the same thing to himself over and over like a mantra. The more he repeated it, the more he seemed to relax until, when he looked at Simmons again, the madness was gone from his eyes, and his face was the same serene mask Simmons recognized from TV.

That was the only reason he’d taken this job—because he recognized the guy from all the interviews he did for cable news as a legal expert and the occasional local broadcast where he represented some other rich fuck and got him off on a legal technicality. Not because he respected his work, but because he knew Devereaux was good for the cash payout.

“Where is she right now?”

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