Moonlight Scandals

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

  Interest sparked in Liz’s eyes.

  “I’m not sure what or if we’ve caught anything that will be conclusive, but I think we’re going to need to bring Sarah in, just in case. Have her do a walk-through.”

  “Agreed.” Jilly let her arms rest on her knees. “You can do the walk—”

  “So, back to the other reason why I’m here.” Rosie drew in a deep breath. After internet stalking Devlin and realizing that the more time she spent with him, the more she got wrapped up in him, she knew what she needed to do. “I’m going to remove myself from this—”

  “Narrative?” Liz supplied helpfully.

  Rosie laughed. “Kind of. I’m going to step away from this investigation.”

  Jilly stared at her. “Come again? You can’t be for real. You’ve been obsessed with the whole de Vincent curse and haunting since I’ve known you. I know this isn’t the de Vincent manor, but this is one of their homes. I know you don’t seem to get along with Devlin, but I cannot believe you do not want to be involved in this.”

  “Did things not go well last night?” Concern filled Liz’s gaze.

  “No, things were actually pretty cool. I mean, he was a bit distracting during the EVP recording.” She paused, smiling. “Actually, he was kind of funny, but with my friend being involved with Gabriel, it just feels weird.”

  Both of them stared at her.

  “And even though I didn’t kill him last night, we haven’t really gotten along . . .” She trailed off, thinking of just how well they had gotten along Friday night before she told him about the reading. “Anyway, I just think it’s best for you guys to take this one over.”

  “Wow,” Jilly murmured, still staring at her.

  Liz leaned forward. “Did something happen between you two?”

  “What?” Her stomach dipped. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I’ve never known you to not want to work on a case,” Jilly replied, glancing at Liz before refocusing on Rosie. “And you pretty much squeaked out ‘what?’”

  “I did not.” Her brows lowered.

  Liz grinned. “You did.”

  “So, I’m going to say something happened between you guys.”

  Sliding even farther down in the moon chair, she sighed heavily. “I . . . okay, something did happen between us, and I’m not trying to hide it or anything like that, but it just feels weird to be a part of this investigation now. So, yeah.”

  Jilly closed her laptop. “We’re going to need a little more detail than that.”

  Rosie lifted her hands. “We kind of made out Friday night at the Masquerade. It’s not a big deal—”

  “Um. That is kind of a big deal,” Liz said. “Isn’t he engaged?”

  “They broke up,” she explained. “We made out and it was great. The man can kiss and . . . stuff, and we got along last night, but we really don’t like each other.”

  “I always make out with people I don’t like,” Liz said blandly. “That’s why I’m with Jilly.”

  Jilly snorted. “I feel like there is so much more you’re not telling us.”

  All Rosie did was lift her brows and her hands again.

  There was. There was a lot she wasn’t telling them and she wasn’t going to, because she figured enough people, including her, had whispered and gossiped about the de Vincents. And even if it wasn’t a de Vincent, Rosie wasn’t the ‘kiss and discuss with the girls’ type. She had no problem listening to other people talk about their love life, but for her, it was something private. She kept her business in her business.

  Both girls knew this.

  Liz groaned. “Okay. Fine. I will try to forget that my friend was all up close and personal with the Devil, but kudos to you for that. You basically made out with a celebrity.”

  She grinned, but really didn’t want to think about the fact that she did make out with him, because it made her want to do it again, and she also knew that inevitably he’d tick her off again. “I’m going to text him your numbers, since I am sure he’ll freak if I gave his away. So, just a heads-up if you get a random call or text from an unknown number.”

  “Cool.” Jilly leaned into Liz. “We’ll take it from here. I’m sure Devlin will be thrilled to work with us.”

  A slow smile pulled at Rosie’s lips as a little bit of disappointment flickered in her chest. “Yeah, I’m sure he will be.”

  Chapter 22

  Dev sat in his office in the city Monday afternoon, staring at his phone. His jaw worked as he read the text message for the twentieth time.

  No matter how many times he read it, Rosie’s message didn’t magically change. And it was a rather long message. An actual paragraph. Who sent texts that long and ended it with a . . . chicken-head emoticon?

  He had no idea what the chicken head represented, but the rest of the message was pretty clear.

  She was pawning him off on a friend she called Jilly, and she wasn’t in the position to pawn him off since, in his opinion, there was nothing about this situation that warranted pawning.

  Then she typed—thanks for confirming what I already knew. That rich people do have secret clubs. A small grin had appeared the first time he read that. And then—I really hope Lucian doesn’t have a spirit problem, but if so, Jilly will take care of it.

  And that was the end.

  This text was a brush-off. What he imagined people received after a date that went well, but one person no longer wanted to see the other. He’d never in his life been on the receiving end of a brush-off.

  Dev did not like it. At all.

  What in the hell?

  He reached for his phone and stopped just before he picked it up. Was he going to call her? Yes, that was exactly what he’d been seconds away from doing. But why? There was no reason to contact her.

  Dev picked up the phone anyway. Fuck being blown off. He would—

  The phone rang suddenly, catching him off guard. He recognized the number.

  Archie.

  He was going to have to deal with Rosie later.

  “What do you have for me?” Dev asked as he rose from his desk and turned to the glass wall behind him. The design gave an amazing view of the city, especially at night.

  “Something fairly messed up, man. Got the insurance company to give me the VIN,” he explained, and Dev was a little curious to know how he’d managed to pull that off. “Which led me back to who the vehicle was registered to. You’re never going to guess who they came back to.”

  “Who?”

  “One Lawrence de Vincent,” he answered.

  “What?” His hand tightened on the phone as he turned from the window. “Lawrence didn’t have a Mercedes. The man only drove Porsches. You’d think they were cutting him some deal based on his loyalty to them.”

  “That may be, but that’s what the records show.” There was a pause. “I’ll be in contact when I know more.”

  A muscle flexed along Dev’s jaw as the call disconnected. Why in the hell was Sabrina even in possession of a car registered to Lawrence—a car that Dev had no idea the man owned? And how in the world did his father’s estate lawyer miss this car when it came to settling the estate?

  Dev doubted that he had.

  Which meant that bastard had hidden the car and who the hell knew what else.

  That was unacceptable.

  Walking back to his desk, he snatched up his keys and stalked out of the office. Derek rose as he walked past. “Cancel all my afternoon meetings.”

  His assistant knew better than to ever question the orders. He nodded as he sat down, one hand heading for the keyboard, the other going for the headset attached to the phone.

  Too impatient to wait for the elevator, he took the stairs down the ten floors, making his way to the front entrance. Lawrence’s lawyer had an office less than four blocks from his, and he was about to get an unexpected visit. Entering the main level, he nodded at the receptionist and crossed the lobby, walking under the art deco murals on the ceiling that had been desig
ned to match the Empire State Building. He stepped through the double lobby doors and then out into the cloudy day and air that held a surprising chill to it.

  He took one damn step to the right when he heard his name and immediately recognized the voice.

  “Devlin, what a convenient surprise. I was coming to see you.”

  Jaw clenching down so hard it was a wonder he didn’t crack any molars, he slowly pivoted. His uncle was stepping out from a black town car, adjusting the jacket of his gray suit.

  “Stefan.” Dev waited by the revolving doors. “Surprised to see you here.”

  A half grin appeared as he walked up to him. “Now, why is that?”

  “Figured after our last conversation, you wouldn’t come around for a while.”

  “You would figure that.” The amused set to Stefan’s expression reminded Dev so much of Lawrence, he wanted to lay Stefan out on the sidewalk. “I need to have a word with you. Can we go up to your office?”

  “I don’t have time right now,” Dev replied. “If you want to talk, then you’re going to do it out here and make it fast.”

  The amused expression slipped off his face as if it were a mask. He stepped closer to Dev, away from the doormen. “You won’t even give me the barest amount of respect, will you?”

  Dev was about two inches taller than Stefan, so they were nearly eye to eye when he met Stefan’s gaze. “No.”

  His jaw worked. “One of these days, you will regret this . . . attitude you have toward me.”

  “Doubtful,” Dev sighed. “What did you need to speak to me about?”

  Stefan ran his fingers along the band of his watch. “I ran into an old friend a few days ago at this dinner and he had the strangest thing to tell me.”

  “Is that so?” Indifference dripped from his tone.

  “Yes. Surprisingly the topic of conversation turned from Lawrence’s death to you.” The muscle along his jaw was working overtime. “Which was very interesting, don’t you think?”

  Impatience ticked through Dev like a bomb counting down. “Can you get to the point of whatever it is that you have to say?”

  “This friend of mine lives in Nebraska.” Stefan paused when a car honked. “Had the strangest thing to tell me. Now, he lives in Omaha, but ran into a couple from some little village out in the middle of nowhere. They were very excited. Had heard a de Vincent had come to their town a few months ago. The heir, to be exact.”

  Dev tensed, but kept his expression bland. “And?”

  “And I’m curious.” Stefan smiled then. “What in the world would you be doing in Nebraska of all places?”

  Staring at his uncle, he couldn’t decipher if Stefan knew why Devlin would be there or if Stefan knew what was in Nebraska. There’d been no evidence that he had, but Devlin knew better than to completely underestimate him.

  “I was looking at property.” That wasn’t exactly untrue. “Thinking about expanding our resort portfolio.”

  “In Nebraska?” he replied smoothly, too smoothly. “Who would travel there for vacation?”

  “A lot of people, Stefan.” He cocked his head. “People who would rather be surrounded by wilderness instead of beaches and people. People who want to get . . . lost for a little while.”

  “Interesting.”

  He smirked. “Not really. I need to go.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Stefan stepped back to the waiting car. “Oh by the way, a little piece of advice from someone who knows.” He winked. “You should be more careful with your . . . indiscretions.”

  Dev’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

  A faint, knowing smile curved the older man’s lips. “Engaging in a tryst with a woman at the gala so soon after Sabrina’s disappearance is, well, quite scandalous, Devlin.”

  The fine hair along the nape of his neck rose. “I didn’t see you at the Masquerade.”

  “Late arrival.” Stefan lifted a shoulder. “I’d expect you of all people to be more careful. Honestly, I was quite surprised to see you lead the woman into the courtyard—a dark courtyard. Hopefully I was the only one who saw and recognized you.”

  Dev didn’t give a shit if anyone saw him leaving with Rosie. What he cared about was if Stefan overheard their conversation. Anger flashed through him. “Did you follow us?”

  “Unlike some, I wouldn’t stoop to that crass behavior.” He glanced down at his watch as he delivered that rather pathetic insult. “I need to go.” He started to turn, but stopped, facing Dev once more. “From what I could see, she’s a very . . . beautiful woman. Not at all like Sabrina, I am sure.” Those eyes, nearly identical to Dev’s own, lifted to meet his gaze. “I’m sure she must be something . . . unique to have caught your eye.”

  Dev said nothing as he kept his expression utterly blank, but inside, a slow inferno was building into a blinding rage. He knew not to let it show, no matter how badly he wanted to warn Stefan to not even think about Rosie. If he did that, it would only draw more attention to her.

  And that was not the kind of attention he wanted Rosie to have, no matter what she may know about him or be involved in.

  “That makes her . . . interesting.” Stefan flashed a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Very interesting, indeed.”

  “I’m sorry, but Mr. Oakes is very busy.” The frazzled receptionist stepped around the desk, hurrying after Dev as he stalked down the hall. “I’ll tell him that you stopped by.”

  Dev ignored her. After the run-in with Stefan and having to wait to make sure he hadn’t been followed, he had little to no patience.

  “Mr. de Vincent, please. You cannot go—”

  Too late.

  Placing his hands on the wooden paneled doors—doors that his brother had made—he pushed them open.

  A strangled-sounding curse came from behind the desk, from Edmond Oakes, to be exact. Who currently had his hands full and probably his mouth, too. There was a woman on his lap, a much younger and blonder woman than his wife of twenty-some years.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Oakes. I tried to stop him,” the receptionist gasped. “He wouldn’t listen.”

  “Jesus, Devlin,” Edmond said from somewhere behind the woman. “You could’ve at least knocked.”

  “I could’ve.” He strolled forward and dropped into a chair. He arched a brow as the woman scrambled off the man’s lap, clasping the edges of her blouse together, revealing his father’s estate lawyer.

  Edmond Oakes was a man getting up there in years—a man who was about one more glass of bourbon away from liver failure if his yellowish complexion was any indication. The front of his dress shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white undershirt that stretched across his chest and looked like it was mere moments away from bursting. His dyed brown hair was a mess, and Dev knew that when he reached under the desk, he was buttoning up his slacks.

  Dev had no idea why Lawrence used this man for his estate. He wasn’t particularly noteworthy or well referred. His gaze flickered to where the lithe woman was buttoning up her blouse, her back to them. The woman glanced over her shoulder at Dev. She was young. As young as Nikki, probably in her early to midtwenties.

  He refocused on Edmond. Well, there was something the aging lawyer had in common with Lawrence. Obviously.

  Right now, his ruddy eyes were doing their best to glare a hole straight through Dev. “Sorry, Ms. Davis, we’ll have to pick this up later.”

  Ms. Davis grinned as she nodded. “Of course.” As she swayed her way past Dev, she winked. “Hello, Mr. de Vincent.”

  He nodded and waited until he heard the door close behind them. “How old is she, Edmond?”

  Lawrence’s lawyer snorted as he rose from his chair. Both the dress shirt and undershirt were untucked. “Old enough. Ms. Davis is my new assistant.” He ambled toward the liquor cabinet that took up more space on the wall than law books did. “She is my personal scheduler.”

  “Personal scheduler? Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?”

  He huffed. “Care for a
drink?”

  “No, but please, help yourself.”

  Edmond did just that, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “What can I do for you today, Devlin? I assume it’s something fairly important since you didn’t even attempt to make an appointment.”

  “It is.” Dev rested his cheek on his balled hand and watched the lawyer shuffle back to his desk and sit down. “I want to know why I was unaware of a black Mercedes owned by Lawrence.”

  The man froze with the glass halfway to his mouth. “Excuse me?”

  “Lawrence owned a black Mercedes. I was unaware of this since it was not included in the estate papers you went over with me,” he said, watching a red tint seep across the man’s face, following the faint spider veins. “Now, I imagine a lawyer with your many, many years of experience would’ve discovered unclaimed property and not have left it off the estate. Or it was on the estate, a part that was kept from me.”

  Edmond tipped the glass back, downing the contents in one impressive gulp. Baring his teeth, he shook his head as he placed the empty glass on the desk. “Now, Devlin, you know that when a person requests the contents of their estate to be private—”

  “Do I remotely look like I care about privacy laws regarding Lawrence’s estate?”

  “Devlin—”

  “I’m sure that I look like I care about why there was a Mercedes on the estate that I’m unaware of and why Sabrina Harrington is in possession of this Mercedes.”

  Edmond’s gaze shot to his as he pulled his hand away from the glass. “You’re going to have to ask Ms. Harrington that question.”

  “And I’m sure you’ve heard that Sabrina is missing,” Dev replied. “So, asking her is going to be difficult.”

  He coughed out a dry laugh. “I’m sure that with all the . . . power at your fingertips, you can find Ms. Harrington and ask that question.”

  Dev smiled faintly as Edmond’s hand twitched.

  The man swallowed as the silence stretched out between them. “Devlin, you have to understand that I cannot, by law, share any details that my client had entrusted me to keep private.”