Broken Legacy: Dark Legacy Book Three

by Eve, Jaymin

  I glanced up at Beck and Dylan who’d come around the desk to see what I was looking at, and they both seemed grim. Sad, even.

  “We used to joke that Oscar won the lottery with Richard.” Dylan’s voice was quiet and nostalgic. “All the bullshit we went through growing up, all the training, the punishments, the mental torture... Oscar never suffered as bad as the rest of us. Richard shielded him as much as he could.” His words cracked with emotion as he remembered my deceased brother. “His death broke Richard. So much more than he’s showing.”

  An uneasy feeling twisted in my gut at his words, and I fought the urge to bite my lip. I wore bright red lipstick and the last thing I wanted was to pop out of Delta with smeared makeup.

  “Do your thing,” I said to the guys, rising from the chair and leaving them to find the files we needed. Computers were far from my forte, and the uncomfortable feeling under my skin was making me jumpy.

  I hated that I was questioning my friends, but Dylan’s comment sparked a question. If Oscar was spared the awful upbringing that the other heirs were subjected to ... did any of them hold a grudge? Would they have had motive to hurt him?

  Horrified at my own train of thought, I shook my head to clear it. That was just crazy; I’d seen their emotions at the cemetery. Surely none of them were that good at acting. All the murder and intrigue of late was making me more paranoid than I really cared to admit. How the guys all managed to hold their sanity after spending their entire lives in this world ... it blew my mind.

  “All done,” Beck said softly, brushing a hand over my lower back as I startled.

  “That was quick,” I observed, “did you get it?”

  Dylan flashed me a little USB stick in his palm before pocketing it and a chill ran down my spine, which I quickly ignored. Stupid Richard and his suspicions now had me seeing monsters in every shadow. Just because Dylan had the flash drive didn’t mean he was doing anything bad with it. Same as the one from the gala.

  “You okay?” Dylan asked, giving me a quizzical frown.

  I shook off Richard’s doubts about Dylan’s loyalty and gave him a tight smile. “Of course. Just thought it would have taken longer.”

  “No hacking necessary when we have a top-level clearance access code, Butterfly,” Beck explained, opening the door and holding it for me.

  “Besides,” Dylan added as he followed me out of Richard’s office, “we figured it was better to just copy the files and look through them later. Would hate to get caught by security and need to pretend we’re in the middle of a threesome or something.” He shot me a sly wink then headed back down the corridor toward the elevators.

  “He’s joking,” I murmured to Beck when he glared after his best friend.

  Beck’s attention shifted to me. “That’s the problem. He’s not joking at all.” He slung his arm over my shoulders, pulling me in close to his body as we slowly followed Dylan. “Maybe my little chat with him didn’t sink in as well as it should have.”

  I whacked his stomach with the back of my hand and tried to ignore all those rock hard abs. “Stop it,” I snapped. “He’s just messing with you, and I don’t blame him. You seem to be turning into more of a possessive asshole with every day that passes.”

  I’d meant it as an off-hand commentary about Beck’s extreme jealousy issues—and I thought I needed therapy—but apparently he took me more seriously than that. In the blink of an eye, Beck had me pinned to the wall beside a gold framed oil painting with his body pressed to mine.

  “I’m a possessive asshole?” he growled, crushing his hips to mine and dropping his lips to the curve of my neck. My breath caught in my throat, and I swallowed a lusty whimper before replying. “Yes, Sebastian. You are.”

  His teeth scraped over my skin like a threat, or a promise, and my pussy clenched with need. “You’re damn right I am, Butterfly. You belong to me, and the sooner Dylan and the whole fucking world learns that, the better.” He was using my body against me again, but that was a two-way street. The hard length of his cock trapped between us was clear testimony to that fact.

  His lips worked up the side of my neck until he reached my earlobe, which he grabbed with his teeth.

  Oh fucking hell.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I informed him in a breathy, sex-drenched voice. My hand trailed down his muscled side and slipped between us to grab a firm handful of his crown jewels. “You belong to me, Sebastian Roman Beckett.” He groaned but didn’t move away. “Even when you are acting like a fucking Neanderthal. Now, go tell Dylan to catch an Uber home because I want you to fuck me at least twice before we start looking over those stolen documents. Got it?” I gave his junk another squeeze to reinforce my position of power, but judging by the ragged breath Beck sucked in, it was only turning him on harder.

  When he shifted away from me, a dazed sort of smile danced across his lips. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, then dragged his tongue over his lower lip slowly. Before I could pounce and climb his body like a spider monkey, he swaggered off to deliver my orders to Dylan.

  11

  “All right,” the silver haired, sharp suited man across the desk said with a heavy sigh as he tossed down the papers he’d been looking at. “Do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  My stomach sank. I knew it wouldn’t be so easy to nail Catherine to a wall and watch her squirm. “Whatever,” I replied with a wave of my hand. “It’s all the same.”

  I sunk back in my seat, feeling thoroughly dejected and not at all surprised at what he said next.

  “This isn’t enough.” He tapped Dante’s files in front of him. “Not even close to enough. For one thing, there are no clear ties to Catherine Deboise or really any of the Delta board members. For another, the origins of this information is circumstantial at best. You got it from a known gang member, with a criminal record, who is currently being charged with murder?” He grimaced and shook his head. “I’m sorry, this ‘evidence’ isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on.”

  I sighed heavily myself and looked out the window of the high-rise office building. I needed a hot second to pull my shit together before I did something embarrassing ... like cry. When Sami’s father had checked out in the Delta records, I’d arranged the meeting. A meeting I’d come to alone, utilizing the time that the guys had been summoned for a dinner party. As far as Richard and Catherine were concerned, I was holed up in bed with a nasty cold.

  “So what’s the good news?” I asked, turning my attention back to Jarred Wells, of Wells, Banksy and Thomas. The Delta files had showed him—and his partners—to be one of the very, very few top tier legal firms in New York to not be accepting payments from Delta in some way, shape, or form. So I’d had Sami set the meeting up. Of course, she thought I was pressing charges against my would-be rapists, not spearheading the internal takedown of the largest criminal organization in North America. Semantics really.

  Jarred Wells gave me a shark-like grin. “The good news is that if knocking Militant Delta off their pedestal is your goal, you came to the right man.”

  I arched a brow at him, curious at the bloodthirsty tone he used. “I sense a history.”

  “Most certainly,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate further. “This evidence isn’t enough, but you’re in a much better position to get what is enough. You said you had access to the secured files in their head office?”

  I shook my head. “I did, briefly, but Richard would have changed his code since then. We may be blood-related, but we are far from family.”

  Jarred nodded, like he’d expected this answer. “I can understand that. Well, I have no doubt you can find something they’re hiding. Criminals or not, they’re all still businessmen. And woman, if you count Catherine as anything more than a perpetual nuisance.”

  My jaw clenched hard. “She killed my parents. That’s considerably more than a nuisance in my eyes, Mr. Wells.”

  His expression softened for a moment. “Of course, I’m sorry. I simply meant in t
he sense that businessmen typically keep records of everything. It sounds stupid, given all the illegal activity Militant Delta is involved with, but the more powerful a person is the more indestructible they see themselves. Their arrogance alone would see that they’ve kept records on every dirty little secret they have. If you can find that...” He shrugged, and I didn’t need him to say the rest.

  If you can find that... you can see the entire board behind bars.

  I knew what he was saying. The guys had already demonstrated a thousand times over how many fucking records were stored on various servers, but I knew of one place that held the absolute motherload of dirty secrets.

  The vault.

  “You’ve thought of something,” Jarred commented, watching me with sharp, intelligent eyes. A slow smile crossed his lips, and he nodded. “Good. I look forward to our next meeting, Miss Deboise.” He stood up with me and offered his hand to shake.

  “It’s Jameson,” I corrected him, but he shook his head.

  “No, dear. It’s Deboise. Whether you like it or not, if you topple a king or queen their subjects still require leadership. When you achieve your goals, the weight of cleaning up Militant Delta will fall to you and the other successors. Make sure you’re ready for that.” His handshake was firm. Professional. “Good luck, and don’t get killed. I’ve waited a damn long time to see those bastards receive their karma, and I have a good feeling that you’re the one who can make it happen.”

  I cleared my throat nervously. “No pressure, though.”

  Jarred Wells barked a laugh as he walked with me to the elevators. The whole office floor was empty, silent except for his assistant who had earbuds in, listening to music while she worked way past close of business. “No pressure.” Jarred laughed, indicating for me to step into the elevator then giving me a warm smile as the doors slid closed.

  Alone for a few moments, I released a huge breath and scrubbed my hands over my face. He hadn’t said anything I hadn’t expected. Dante’s file wasn’t enough to lock Catherine up and throw away the key, but just in case, I’d had to try. And this was also a test. If Delta came after me now, I’d know that Wells was on the take, secretly.

  And if they didn’t, we had an ally. Someone who was willing to help, and hadn’t been corrupted by greed and power.

  The foyer of the tower Mr. Wells had his firm located in was just as quiet as the office upstairs. To be expected, I guessed, at almost nine at night. Good thing I had moved out of the Deboise manor already, so no one would see me sneaking home in the early hours of the morning by the time my car got back to Jefferson.

  Beck and I had a rip-roaring fight about me going alone, because he was an untrusting bastard, but in the end, he’d had no choice. He had to be at the Delta party as the Beckett proxy, and I wasn’t willing to wait any longer. But I’d conceded on allowing his driver to take me in a town car—which had been waiting outside for me for at least the last half hour.

  “Have a good evening, miss,” the security guard called out as I walked across the marble foyer and past his desk.

  I flashed him a quick smile then stepped out onto the street. My car—a dark silver Rolls Royce Phantom—waited exactly where he’d dropped me off, and I clicked open the back door and hopped in without waiting for the driver to open the door. It always made me uncomfortable when they did that, like I wasn’t capable of doing it myself?

  “Sorry, that took longer than I thought,” I apologized to my driver, Carl. “I hope you didn’t get grief from anyone for waiting here?”

  No response came. Not even a nod of acknowledgement, nor did he start the engine.

  “Carl?” I prompted, peering at the back of his head. He hadn’t even looked back to greet me when I got in, which was odd. It’d been a long drive down to the city, and I’d gotten a pretty clear sense of what a good guy Carl was.

  A chill ran through me, and I sat forward in my seat.

  Carl’s head was lolling to the side, and at first, I thought he was asleep. I wouldn’t have blamed him; it had been over an hour since I went into my meeting. But then I saw the smudge on his collar. It was just a shadow in the dark street, but when I lifted my phone and shone the light on it, red blazed at me.

  I choked back a cry, slamming into my seat, my heart racing and limbs shaking.

  Dead.

  Sorrow for the man I’d only had a short time to get to know rose up in me. Carl had been a nice guy, older, with a couple of grandchildren. Some asshole had ripped him out of their world without a second thought, and it was my fault.

  Flashbacks of my parents’ crash hit me, and a keening cry rose up in my chest. I tried to stop it from emerging, but I was fighting a losing battle. Delta had brought darkness into my world, a darkness that was threatening to consume everything and everyone.

  What if I lost Beck and the guys? Eddy? I wouldn’t survive it.

  My door wrenched open, and I screamed until the familiar dark lines of Beck’s face flashed in the limited light.

  “Butterfly,” he bit out, his eyes running over me.

  “You—” I coughed. “You followed me?”

  He shook his head like I was a fucking idiot. “Of course I did. You demanded your independence, and while I accepted it, there was still no way in hell I was going to leave you to travel into the city without one of us.”

  “Carl’s dead,” I said softly, my voice husky with tears. “Someone got to him while I was in my meeting.”

  Beck’s eyes briefly flicked toward the driver, but then they were back locked on me. “I missed it because I was keeping an eye on you. We need to get out of here, Butterfly, and we need Carl and the car moved to another location. If this law firm is actually going to assist in taking Delta down, then there can be no ties to us found close by.”

  I grabbed his arm, some of the clawing pain and panic in my chest easing at the warmth of his body. “We should go inside and ask Wells for help,” I said softly. “He’ll know … legally, the best way to deal with this. You know, before we all get charged with murder.”

  Beck laughed darkly. “Being charged with murder is the least of our worries if Delta finds out we’re trying to take them down.”

  His eyes rose to the impressive building I’d just left. Somehow, there was no one on the street still, but it was New York, and even though this law firm was down a side street, someone was still going to come by soon. We needed to get out of the car.

  I pushed against Beck. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

  He didn’t look happy, and that particular flat, furious look was one of his scariest. “What makes you think we can trust this lawyer?” he said softly, stepping back and drawing me with him. “He might be the one who killed Carl. He might have orchestrated all of this to leave you alone and defenseless.”

  I nodded. “Already thought of that, oh suspicious one, but … my gut is telling me that we can trust Wells. Fate landed him in my lap. We shouldn’t go against fate.”

  Beck shook his head, but he didn’t argue any further. When we were standing on the street, cool wind whipping across us, sending my coat billowing out, he drew my gaze away from the body visible through the front windscreen.

  “Wait here for a second,” Beck said. “I’m going to wipe our prints from the car.”

  Of course. Why didn’t I think of that? I mean, unlike Beck I didn’t end up in life or death situations on the regular, but I was a huge aficionado of CSI.

  Beck pulled a white cloth and small spray bottle from his pocket … why the fuck was he carrying around a cloth and spray for removing fingerprints? I probably didn’t want the answer to that.

  For the first time he shot me a slow smile. “I had a feeling.”

  When Beck was just about done wiping the car down, I wandered a little closer to the sidewalk. The few street lights above us were out, which was in a way ominous. Had Beck done that? Or the killer?

  And was the killer around here somewhere still.

  My eyes darted about, tryi
ng to take it all in, but it was so fucking dark that visibility was almost nil…

  Wait.

  A shadow across the front windshield caught my eye, and I stumbled closer, careful not to fall down the gutter. It took my eyes a few minutes to adjust, and when they did, I somehow managed not to scream, pressing a hand tightly over my mouth.

  Black rose.

  A single black rose was tucked into the wipers. I fumbled with my phone again, raising it so there was a very low light across the car. My hands trembled at the red running in lines down from the thorns. Carl’s blood. I knew it was Carl’s blood, just like I knew the killer was leaving me a message.

  You’re next.

  12

  Sometime later, could have been minutes … or hours, Beck appeared at my side.

  “Butterfly?” he said, barely a whisper of my name.

  “Windshield,” I choked out.

  He turned away from me, and I could have sworn that the heat he always threw off rose a few more degrees.

  He wrapped an arm around me and practically lifted me from the sidewalk, taking us out of the cool wind and into the Wells building. The security guard rushed over to offer assistance, but Beck waved him off, leading me to the elevators and putting his phone to his ear. He was right beside me, but an incessant ringing in my head was making it hard to focus on what he was saying.

  I heard the words rose and blood, probably because those two words were already running around my head, filling me with fear and anger.

  If Catherine was doing this, I was going to fucking kill her. Jail was too good for her, she needed to die. More voices were talking around me, and it wasn’t until Beck sat and pulled me into his lap that I snapped out of whatever shock had taken hold of me. He had his arms wrapped around me, and I pressed my face into his wool coat.