Page 107 of Beautiful Revenge

Devon

Istare out the only window of the waiting room onto the parking lot as I process updates from home.

“Malloy is still in ICU, but my contact told me he’s been upgraded to stable,” Dean says.

“Don’t you Americans have this thing called HIPAA?” I ask. “How do you know that?”

“I didn’t say I read his medical file,” Dean drawls. “I said I had a contact. I might’ve left for a decade, but I grew up here and have more family in Winslet than I can count. My sister is a nurse in the ICU and is happy to keep me updated. Happy is an understatement given the number of texts she sends, and I didn’t even ask her to do it. Let’s just say a gunshot victim in Winslet is somewhat of an anomaly ... and something of a scandal. And there’s nothing Winslet likes more than new gossip material. They’ve been getting it in spades lately between this and your new bedmate.”

I ignore that last part.

“Speaking of the billionaire princess, no one has seen her since the shooting. Are you keeping her locked up in your creepy-ass castle?”

“There’s nothing creepy about my manor—at least not anymore. I spent millions to make sure of that. And, no, she’s not locked up anywhere. We’re out of town for a couple of days. She has family business to take care of, and I’m making sure she’s safe while doing so.”

“Family business,” Dean echoes. “I suppose that hits different when you’re a Madison.”

I couldn’t agree more as my mind goes back to our time on the flight here. “When can you question Malloy?”

“He may be stable, but he’s still in the ICU. They get finicky about anyone interfering with care ... all that shit. Once he gets moved to a regular room, I should be able to makecontact. He’d be an idiot to talk. I doubt you want me to bring up his connection to Turner. That will ruin any work you’re doing on your end.” He stresses his next words. “Work that I know nothing about, by the way. Not one fucking thing.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” I mutter as I pull my cell away from my ear to check the notification.

Ozzy.

And since he doesn’t pretend to be ignorant to anything, I need to take this call.

“Let me know when your sister has any more gossip to share, and I’ll let you know when we’re on our way back to town. I’ve got another call about shit you know nothing about.”

“Fuck, Donnelly. It’s like you’re determined to take me down with you into early retirement.”

I smile. “I do need a new pool boy. The female guests would love you. Hell, some of the men would too.”

“Kiss my firm, Italian ass,” he bites right before the line goes dead, which is fine by me.

I press go on Ozzy. Like usual, he barely gives me a chance to greet him. “Are you monitoring the tap?”

I turn back to where my things are strewn over three stiff chairs. It seems like this place sees as much action as the Winslet Community Hospital. “I’ve been on a call. Did it just happen?”

“Just now. And this is different than what we’ve seen before. No text or direct messages. They’re talking, and you know what that means.”

“I sure fucking do—voice recognition.” I log into my laptop and make my way through the layers of security Ozzy has in place to access his private satellite system. “Did they say anything good?”

“Turner is pissed because his client is pissed. He didn’t name the client, but from what I’ve heard, it’s safe to deduce that it’s Harlow’s ex-fiancé.”

I enter the last password to Ozzy’s final layer of security, pull up the tap, and click on the most recent call.

Victor Turner’s voice is easy to recognize. He’s not only a public figure, but I’ve investigated him long enough, I couldpick him out of a million voices. I know all his personas from the fake professional one to the private irate one.

And the latter is exactly what he is now.

But it’s the other man...

The one he’s talking to that gets me. I didn’t expect to recognize that one.

It’s a voice I haven’t heard in years. One I’d be able to pick out of a million blokes.

Hell, ten million.