Taming London (Warwick Dragons #1) - Milly Taiden Page 0,52

a good idea. Bethany didn’t know why he still had them, but they would hardly let their employer kill her. “How would he explain my murder if there were a bunch of witnesses?”

“The guards are paid by him. Their silence could very well be bought by Leonard.”

Bethany considered that for a few moments. Eugenie had a point. “That’s true. I’ll bring some pepper spray then.”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to. I’m doing this. If he killed my mom, I have to know. I want to hear him tell me.”

Eugenie gave her friend a quick nod, but there were tears in her eyes. Bethany felt terrible for putting her best friend through some stress, so she gave her big hug.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised.

“You should give me London’s number. I should call him if you don’t come back.”

A shiver ran up Bethany’s spine. “Call the police if I don’t come back. Leave that liar out of it.” She meant London. For now, it was easier to send all of her anger his way. She would deal with him and her conflicting feelings later.

Bethany left the house while Eugenie called after her to stay put. There was no stopping her.

She had to know. She had to hear it straight from Leonard’s mouth. He had played the grieving husband. He had been so convincing, even after his marriage to Lucille. He said he was desperate for companionship. That he couldn’t handle going at it alone, that Lilly had left too big of a hole in his life.

In short, Leonard had played her expertly, and she was just about sick of being manipulated for other people’s purposes. When had she become the kind of woman who could just have the wool pulled over her eyes?

That wasn’t who she was.

She was a strong, independent, intelligent woman.

And she would prove it.

The cab ride to her mother’s house—to Leonard’s house—had bolstered her anger and her resolve. She was going to get to the truth, no matter what. Then she would finally have justice for her mother. No more nasty articles would be written about Bethany if the real culprit was exposed and brought to justice.

On the steps of the house, Bethany took out her phone from her back pocket. She was angry with herself that her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She set the phone to a recording app and slid the device back into her pocket.

She might be going into a murderer’s house to confront him, but she was going to record everything.

She rang the doorbell, and Lucille soon opened it with quick, choppy movements.

“No.” She pushed Bethany away with much more strength than Bethany could have thought possible. “You have to get the hell away from here.”

“Hey!” Bethany squeaked, confused by the vehemence and open hostility Lucille was demonstrating her.

“Step aside, Lucille. Let the girl in.” Leonard popped out over Lucille’s shoulder.

Lucille mouthed a silent sorry, her eyes lined with tears.

It was then that Bethany realized that Eugenie had been right. She had walked right into the lion’s den like a dumb girl in a horror movie. But instead of panicking, she squared off her shoulders and plastered a mask of composure on her face.

She followed Lucille and Leonard into the house. Four guards were standing around in the living room. They were not the usual men that she had come to recognize. They were tall, burly, and menacing looking. There was something in the set of their shoulders that was animalistic, and she had the terrifying thought that Leonard had changed out his regular security details for male shifters.

He wouldn’t have, would he? How would that have been of benefit to him?

“Sit,” Leonard snapped at her, motioning for the couch that was in the middle of the living room. He gestured for the guards to leave. They took Lucille with them.

The woman shot nervous glances over her shoulder, fear twisting her face. Bethany gulped, but kept her cool. She wouldn’t give Leonard the satisfaction of knowing she was absolutely terrified.

“We have things to talk about,” she said. At least her voice wasn’t shaking.

“Do we?”

“Yes. It’s come to my attention that you know more about Mom’s death than you let on. I want to understand.”

Leonard laughed. “Oh, you do, do you? You always were an entitled brat. I’m not saying a goddamn thing to you.”

“I know that you had hired Jean Rochelle to kill my mother.”

Leonard’s red face drained of color and his mouth opened and closed. He was completely flustered and taken aback by