Page 127 of A Taste like Sin

Page List

Font Size:

“Who was he?” I wince as his grip tightens.

“Who?” He laughs again, which raises goosebumps over my skin. “You really are that naïve? Think

carefully. Your father whored himself in front of any donor with money, but there wasonein

particular he never paraded you around. Do you remember?”

No… Not at first. Then, suddenly, a name comes to mind like a light flipping on.

“Gerald Wellington,” I say hoarsely.

“Yes.” Harrison nods. “A sociopathic degenerate with too much money and time on his hands. Rumor

has it that he liked to test the innocent. Play little games. Like cornering two weak little girls,

perhaps? Then making one of them choose who got to die.”

The world transforms for a split second. I’m there again, trapped in the woods, running for my life.

Running from Simon.

“Thorne knew who the bastard was from day one,” Harrison says, chuckling at the irony. “He made

sure Wellington knew as much too. Thorne ensured the man was all but a recluse, but he still played

with his victims. He couldn’t resist. The ones who weren’t you at least.”

Like Lynn McKelvy.

“So you reminded me for him,” I rasp, horrified. “It was you. All this time, it was you.”

The police department supplied my father’s security, even during the time he was mayor, giving him

unfettered access. To my room. My homes. My life.

“A little reminder in case Thorne ever changed his mind.” He laughs, grinding his grip into my

windpipe but not hard enough to obscure it entirely. “He may have forgotten, but you never would,

Daddy’s little princess.”

“And the Borgetta murder?” I choke out. “You made my father suppress the evidence that could have

acquitted Mateo Villa. Why?”

“Thorne told you that?” He shoves me forward and reaches out with his free hand, unlocking the

sliding glass door. Cool air blows the hair from my face and I instinctively stiffen, resisting his grip

even though it’s futile. I have no chance in hell of overpowering him. “I should pay him another little

visit—”

“Kyle killed her, didn’t he?” I say in a rush, hoping to keep his attention on this topic. “His name was

among the list of suspects. Suspects you refused to have questioned in full. He killed her—”

“Shut up!” He wrenches me around, using his size as leverage to drag me out onto the balcony.