Page 77 of Blame it on the Bet
I’m expecting to see bewilderment or frustration on his face. But what I get is smug. Smug is not good. It means he’s got something. And he does.
“I’ve already been to see Miss O’Halloran. I brought several copies of newspaper clippings, and even a few exposés that aired on television.”
I’m staring at him, jaw hanging open. He didn’t.
His smile broadens, and it’s as if he can hear my thoughts. “That’s right, Mr. Broadmore. I’m sorry to say it was quite upsetting for the young lady, especially considering the…nature…of your relationship, but it had to be done. She had to know whom she was dealing with. I had to make her see that your only intention was to get close to her, use her, and bilk her and her neighbors out of their life’s savings. Just like last time. Right, Bryan?”
I’m on my feet and headed for the door in an instant. “You have no idea,” I hiss at him over my shoulder.
“You have no idea, you stupid, stupid little man.”
“Bryan?” King calls after me as I fly through the office and out into the freezing night.
Chapter Thirty-One
HENNESSY
“Henny? Henny, what is it?” Walker asks, squatting down next to me as I sob at my father’s desk. Every glance at one of the photos makes me heave and shudder and drip anew.
I can’t talk, I can only shake my head. “Please, you’re scaring me…”
I hear her pushing buttons on her phone.
“James, I need you at the pub. Right now. It’s Hennessy.
Something’s wrong. Something’s really, really wrong.” No truer words have ever been said.
“Do you want me to call Bryan?” Walker asks once she’s disconnected the call.
This only makes me sob harder. I shake my head.
My cool, prickly, stiff sister throws her arms around me and pulls me to her chest. She runs a hand along the length of my hair while she pats my back.
“Shh,” she whispers soothingly in my ear. “Shh. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay, Henny. Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. I swear it.”
If only that could be true.
Chapter Thirty-Two
BRYAN
Truittism No. 16: Don’t believe everything in print.
Don’t print everything you believe.
“Where is she?” I demand when I run into the pub and find Walker.
She looks as if she’d like to come over the bar and throttle me with her bare hands.
“It doesn’t matter where she is. You’re never going to see her again,” the tall brunette spits at me.
So she’s heard, too.
“Walker, this is all a big misunderstanding…”
“Oh? Then how come there’s so much proof to the contrary? Doesn’t seem like a misunderstanding to me. In fact, it seems to be all laid out in black and white for the whole world to see—if they happen to know what your real name is.”
“Please, I just need to see her. Just to explain…” I say, making a move to come around the bar.
