A Bad Boy is Good to Find - By Jennifer Lewis Page 0,92
soiled string. “Hope it’s not a bunch of skeletons or something.”
“Too right. I never know what’s going to happen around here lately.” Rog shifted his long body in the Jeep’s tiny backseat. “So the house is really yours?”
“So they tell me. There’s an old will involved, dating back to when the house was first built. The house goes to the oldest male of the line, failing that to the oldest female. Primogeniture or something, it’s called. They did a DNA test on me to make sure I’m who I say I am.”
“Smart move,” murmured Lizzie, eyes on the windshield.
Con chuckled. “Yeah. Anyway, they have to match it up with something of the old man’s. I think they have a lock of his hair from when he was a baby or something creepy like that. They get the results back tomorrow.”
“How do you feel about being related to him? To the guy who abandoned your mother to her death?” Lizzie turned to him, eyes flashing. She knew he’d caved under pressure and shown the letters to the news media, who’d slavered all over them. He also suspected Lizzie thought there was something pornographic about him splashing his unsightly family history all over the press.
“I hate him,” he said with conviction that tightened his voice. “He didn’t want to leave his precious crap to Mom. Only reason it’s coming to me is because of some old will he couldn’t change. I hope the bastard rots in hell.” It felt good to get that off his chest after playing nice for the cameras all morning.
“So I guess you’ll be giving all his money and possessions to a charity for battered women?” said Lizzie archly. She wasn’t looking at him, but he could see her raised eyebrow.
“Maybe.” The prospect of inheriting the house still seemed weird. Wrong. Damn he loved the area, though. Now he’d gotten over all those ancient fears, the thought of living back down here on the bayou held a lot of appeal.
“Are you serious?” Lizzie’s head snapped round.
“I don’t know. I barely know my own name right now.” He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the firm leather and metal something he could at least hold on to.
“Your name’s Conroy Beale, unless the story’s changing again.” Her tone was cool.
What was eating her anyway? He’d hoped all that hot sex they’d enjoyed lately would mellow her out a bit. He also hoped that after he told her the good news that she’d get her money without having to marry him, they could pick right back up where they’d left off in the early hours of this morning. Either that or she’d be pissed as hell he’d gone to Maisie behind her back. He was hoping for the former.
A surge of warm anticipation tightened his pants and he smiled at her.
“What are you smiling at?”
“You.”
“Don’t miss the turnoff!” called Rog. “It’s the next right.”
The storage facility was an old one. Long corrugated metal buildings set deep off the road in a weed strewn lot.
“Shouldn’t think there’s anything still in there.” Lizzie scratched an itchy bug bite on her arm. “It’s hardly protected by armed guards is it?”
“There’s a security guard in the office, though he’s about a hundred years old. He’s the one who told me where number four was. Says it’s this whole building.” Patches of red rust-preventative paint were crudely daubed over the peeling pale blue powder-coat of a building at least two hundred feet long.
The van door slammed and Maisie strode toward them, Dino close behind with the camera on his shoulder.
“What have we here, I wonder?” She rubbed her hands together.
Lizzie crossed her arms and hung back, as usual.
Rog sidled up behind her and whispered in her ear. “Maisie told the news crews we weren’t coming until five, she wanted to scoop them.” He chuckled.
“Conroy,” Maisie intoned, adopting her “on air” glow. “We’re about to uncover yet another legacy of a forbear you never knew existed. How do you feel?” She leaned into him, eyes glittering.
“I don’t know.” He ran his hand through his hair.
The lord of the manor’s shirt was coming untucked. Amazing Con wasn’t coming right apart at the seams considering all this drama she’d dropped him into. Could they just go get married? Was that too much to ask?
“You have the key?” Maisie asked in deep, sonorous tones.
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
Con held it out. They strode toward the door, Dino following. A nasty twist of anticipation toyed with the contents of Lizzie’s stomach.