Dev felt sick. “So what are you telling me?”
“He did it at someone’s direction. He left notes to cover himself.”
“Why?” Dev couldn’t square it. “Why would he do it, even if someone asked?”
“It was a bad time, Dev. Houston was just coming out of massive waves of foreclosures and businesses going under by the hundreds in the wake of the oil bust. Big accounting firms had laid off people right and left. Dad had four kids.”
And a wife with expensive tastes, Dev thought. Connor was too young to remember the trips, the jewelry, the big house. “Whose direction?” But his gut was already starting to twinge.
“The firm’s biggest account needed financing to keep them afloat. The real books couldn’t survive a lender’s scrutiny. DeMille and Marshall couldn’t afford to lose the account. Dad made the fraudulent entries. The client got the loan. Everything was fine until the Securities and Exchange Commission did an audit. Dad took the fall.”
“Who, Connor? Dad wouldn’t have done that on his own. Who made him sign the working papers?”
But his gut already knew before Connor said the words.
“The senior partner. Charles DeMille.”
Dev squeezed his eyes shut against the roaring in his brain. Finally, it all fit. The unusual interest of Charles DeMille in their family’s plight. The false solicitousness of a man who had even more to lose than Patrick Marlowe had.
His charity took on a whole new light. It was hush money, paid just in case anything had been left behind.
“He might as well have put a gun to Dad’s head. He killed him just as surely as if he’d pulled the trigger.” Dev started pacing. He wanted to smash something, wanted to tear out Charles DeMille’s throat.
You’re nothing. You never were.
That bastard. Dev could still see the terror on Lacey’s face from that long-ago night. Still feel the shame of being cast out for being not good enough for his princess.
The princess who was never DeMille’s blood at all. Lies. Lies upon lies.
“Dev? You all right?”
Dev looked at his watch. Six thirty. A little early to go calling, but who the hell cared?
“Will those papers hold up in court, Connor?”
“They’ll raise enough questions to force the issue. I’m no lawyer, but I’d think they’d certainly convince a judge to subpoena records.”
“Keep them safe. Don’t say anything to Mom or the girls, all right?” Dev’s head began to pound.
“What are you going to do?”
“He took our father away from us. He took our name. He took everything—” Dev’s jaw clenched. His eyes were hard as he stared into the past. “I’m going to return the favor. Show me. Show me what you’ve got. Every detail.”
“You want to get some sleep first? Where have you been?”
With the daughter of the man who ruined us. Dev stifled a harsh laugh and ignored Connor’s question. “Sleep is the last thing on my mind.” Dev forced himself to exhale slowly, get the churning in his stomach under control. “Show me.”
He followed Connor to the dining table where papers were spread out all over everywhere. “Just to think that all this time it was sitting there, waiting for us.” He cursed softly. “All these years, we could have…”
It didn’t bear thinking. The sense of loss staggered him.
“What are you planning?” Connor asked. “I don’t like the look on your face.”
For a moment, Dev simply stared at the papers without picking them up, his thoughts careening from one stunning implication to another.
None of it had to happen. None of the pain.
His mother hadn’t had to drink away the anguish. His siblings could have had a father. They hadn’t had to be inches away from welfare.
You bastard. Charles DeMille’s smug certainty flared in his face. You lying, arrogant ass.
The scared fifteen-year-old boy hadn’t had to lie awake at night in terror. The eighteen-year-old hadn’t had to leave everyone who mattered.
I hope you burn in hell. I’m going to help you get there, Dev vowed.
“I’m going to pay a little early morning visit to River Oaks.” He shook his head and reached for a stack of papers, his jaw grinding. “You got coffee made?”
Lacey woke up wanting him. Her body tingled with the sweet hum of arousal. He’d made love to her all through the night, each time tinged with a desperation that touched her to her soul. Intense, as though he needed to make up for long years lost apart. She’d felt the same need. They’d driven each other crazy with a hunger that grew with every touch, every caress, every greedy plundering. When she’d finally fallen into helpless slumber, the feel of his strong body wrapped around hers had given her the best few hours of sleep of her life.