Primal Pursuit - Page 167

“Why?” It’s a growl. He knows he’s going to die, and he’s not even trying to stall.

I expected…I don’t know. Groveling. More crying. Screaming.

Davian gets up and goes to the table by the front door where a phone sits, and he scrolls through it, sends a text, and then puts it down. He texts on his own phone, too.

“You have to speak, Rabbit. He doesn’t know who you are.”

Davian’s words are so gentle, so matter of fact, they hurt, tearing huge chunks away from my psyche, and it’s like I’m bleeding and so tender inside.

All these years, and my family is nothing—was nothing—to this man.

And it fucking hurts.

I kick him hard in the balls, and he screams, a thin, high-pitched sound that makes him curl in as best he can.

“You killed my father. You killed my mother. And you would have killed me, too.”

“Technically, I killed them,” Davian says to me in that cocky tone that’s uniquely him. “You need to remember that. He put out the hit. I pulled the trigger.”

I swing the gun at Davian and then throw it. “I know!”

He looks at Antonio. “Rabbit’s pissed. Isn’t she beautiful?” He goes and gets the gun. “In case you’re wondering, she’s talking about Harrison Parish and his wife. Your ex-accountant? Well, ex-accountant for Fowler Industries, which is technically the same thing.”

I narrow my eyes at Davian, that hate shifting back in, darkening the love.

“Kid,” Antonio starts, “your father embezzled millions,stole important jewels. One of which you fucking sold. No one works for me and steals. And they don’t embezzle. He came recommended, and he did good work, so I moved him up. Trusted him. And he stole money. Heirlooms. My goddamn trust.”

“Your trust,” I say, “is worth shit.”

“You were just a dumb little kid. And Stark should have killed you, too. But lucky for you, you weren’t home. And you went to live with your uncle. He vouched you didn’t see a thing. Never got that fucking money back, either.”

I go to kick him again, but Davian cuts a cold look at me, and I stop. I don’t know why, but I do.

I step away a moment to get myself under control, then turn and come back and kick him anyway.

Davian just shrugs. “Rabbit.”

“Shut. Up.”

He holds his hands up, and I just stare down at the piece of shit I tied up.

“I might have been a kid, but you ruined my life. And my dad didn’t embezzle. He didn’t steal. We didn’t have any real money. There was enough to live on, and I guess well. I went to a good school, and I had a college fund. But there weren’t millions in savings. No offshore accounts. You don’t think the feds were over everything? My college fund went to my aunt and uncle to pay for me living there. And you did this. You. And him.”

I glare at Davian.

Then I turn that look on Antonio.

“If he worked for you and stole, where was the money?Where? No hidden houses. No investments. No properties. No art collections. So, where?”

“Not my business. I know what I know.”

I can’t stop staring down at him, and I wish I hadn’t thrown the gun. Davian’s got it now, tucked into the waistband of his jeans. My heart dips in a wild beat as I spare him a glance. But then I harden myself and return my stare to the bastard on the ground.

Wait…

Recommended? He knew I lived with my aunt and uncle, but…

“Who recommended my dad?”