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“He’s deceased,” Thatcher confirmed. “Found his death certificate. Marilyn Sloane, Sloane and Bru’s mom, too. She died in—”
“A home break-in.”
Thatcher looked at me. The room did. Thatcher nodded. “Yeah.” He frowned. “How did you know?”
I knew what she’d told me. I knew the facts, but what I didn’t know were the lies.
I had a feeling they stacked.
Her backstory only supported that, a girl with nothing, her and her brother…
Trash.
That had been Wolf’s word for her once upon a time, but then, I’d had no reason to have thoughts about it. I’d been neutral in that regard. Noa had only been the girl in the way back then.
Not a device my grandfather was using.
Her place in this town didn’t make sense, a rogue piece, and I didn’t like rogue fucking variables.
“She came over to my house.”
The room’s attention shifted back to Thatcher after what he said. He grunted. “The little bitch weaseled her way into my house. Got close to my family.”
“The fuck?” I sat up. “Why? How?”
“Bow made it sound like Mom invited her for dinner. The two of them ran into her at the store, I guess, but it doesn’t sound much like my sister fought her on the decision.” Sighing, Thatcher pulled a hand down his face. “We might just want to bring my sister in. She doesn’t understand why Noa’s a threat. The girl got in my house, bro. Again, after already manipulating my little sister once, and that does not sit well with me. I don’t know what the fuck she was up to this time, but she came over while Wells and I were at practice.”
“It was a good thing we got out early.” Wells shrugged. “She left after we got there, and that girl’s a good fucking actress. Thatcher and I saw her crying in her car on her way off the property, really hamming shit up after Thatcher and I got to her.”
“Or maybe we should consider that she wasn’t.”
Wolf had, again, been quiet up to this point. He’d been present for this part of the conversation, but he’d been quiet nonetheless.
He had his fingers laced together, his thumb flicking that emblem at his neck, and I turned completely in his direction. I shook my head. “What are you talking about?”
He’d said some shit like this before, questioning my thoughts on the matter. He did this even when no other conclusions made sense, and that only heightened the situation.
This shit was already enough for me, enduring this shit and the deceit Noa Sloane clearly had no issue taking part in. I didn’t know what my grandfather was doing either, but she was right in the center of it.
Wolf opened his hands, looking at me. “I talked to her.”
My brow jumped. “What?”
He put a finger on the table. “You told me to look into this situation. You told me to get the truth.” He huffed. “Now, I’m not saying I have that, but we might want to consider a scenario in which she and her brother have nothing to do with your grandfather.”
“They have nothing to do with him.” I smirked, but nothing was fucking funny here. “They’re living in his house, bro. Playing around with his money. Going to my school, a school where his grandson happens to go.”
Wolf rubbed his mouth. “According to Sloane, her dad had a will. A will in which he named your grandpa as guardian.”
“So?”
“So the man was the guy’s boss.” Wolf put out a hand. “He worked for your grandfather like Thatcher confirmed, and according to Sloane, their dad didn’t even have much to fucking fill a will with. Their family couldn’t even rub two cents together, so what kind of poor fuck has a will in the first place—”
“Someone who’s lying.” I swallowed. “Someone who’s a liar, and by talking to his daughter, you’ve probably put all this shit on my grandfather’s radar. That we’re looking into him and this? Sloane probably walked that information right up to my grandpa.”
“I was careful.” Wolf nodded. “I’d always be careful.” He lifted a hand. “I got her thinking we’re working on a project together.”
“A project?”
