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I sit up a little straighter at this new bit of information, as do my brothers. Most might have the notion that a pastor and his wife would have nothing that could be used against him, but we know better.
Oh, do we fucking know better.
“Blackmailing you how?” I ask. “What have you done?”
Mr. Simpson bristles. “What makes you think we’ve done anything wrong?”
I arch a brow. “Are you serious?” When he nods, I scowl. “For starters, a person couldn’t blackmail you if you’re squeaky clean. And then there’s the fact that you let your daughter suffer at the hands of pure evil.” I shrug. “Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the two of you are the very sinners you preach to your congregation about.”
The two of them exchange a look, and my hackles rise. There was a lot of information in that one look. Way more than I think they realize.
Pissing off the Grim Reaper is not going to end well for them.
“We, um…” Mr. Simpson straightens his already perfect tie. “We’ve built a very successful church over the years, and Brad wants a piece of it.
“Try again.”
Mrs. Simpson’s shoulders slump. “We’ve been stealing money from our parishioners in order to maintain our lavish lifestyle,” she blurts.
“Ruth,” Violet’s father admonishes. “We agreed never to speak of that.”
“And our daughter is missing, George,” she retorts. “Until today, we weren’t even sure she was still alive.”
I snap my fingers to get their attention. “Focus,” I order.
“Right.” Mr. Simpson nods. “Brad somehow found out what we were doing, and he’s using it to control our every move.”
“In other words, your secret is more important than your daughter’s life,” Fort says.
“No, no, you don’t understand.” Ruth smiles sadly. “We were doing this to give her the life she deserved.”
“Bullshit,” I sign. “I get that you’re both too busy telling yourselves what you must to feel better about your gluttonous ways, but at what expense? Because Violet didn’t get a better life because of it.”
“Until she married you, that is,” Abyss tacks on.
I glare at him. “Shut it.”
“You’re Violet’s husband?” Mr. Simpson asks, his eyes narrow.
I square my shoulders. “Is that a problem?”
Ruth rests her hand on top of George’s and shakes her head. “No, no problem. Why would that be a problem?”
“I’m not exactly who I imagine you wanted for Violet.”
“Are you a good man?” she asks.
“He’s the best,” Soul responds for me. “And he won’t try to kill her.”
“Look, we just want help putting a stop to Brad’s reign of terror,” Mr. Simpson says. “Is that something you can do?”
“Of course, it is,” Spike says. “But give us one good reason why we shouldn’t take you out and then go after him alone?”
Mrs. Simpson levels her gaze on me. “Because we’re Violet’s parents.”
“I’ve killed people who were far more important than you,” I admit.
Their eyes widen, but neither of them comments.
