A Lover's Vow. Brenda Jackson
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“And?”
She shrugged. “You tell me, Dad. You’ve met him.” A week before Shana’s wedding, Jace had invited her dad to accompany him and Shana to Delvers to meet his father. The only thing Ben had said afterward was that Sheppard Granger was a likable guy. That hadn’t told her much, since there were plenty of murderers who’d gone down in history as being likable.
“The meeting with him didn’t last long, Jules.”
“Doesn’t matter. The ex-cop and ex-detective in you would have sized him up pretty quickly. Tell me something other than he was a likable guy.”
Ben turned from the sink and met his daughter’s intense gaze while heaving a deep sigh. “Apparently, the word likable doesn’t do it for you.”
“No, it doesn’t.”
Ben moved across the room to take a chair. He knew Jules had questions for a reason, and he didn’t particularly like where this line of questioning might lead. “If I had to do a quick character analysis of Sheppard Granger, I would have to say if he wasn’t behind bars, he would be an affluent entrepreneur who, although born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is the type of man who doesn’t have a problem sharing his wealth and thinking about those less fortunate. He would be an awesome benefactor. Not just of his wealth but of his knowledge, which I believe is extensive. I could tell he’s kept himself up-to-date on modern technology, changing trends and world events. I believe that although he’s behind bars, he has a special leadership gift that few men possess, which is why he was able to not only form relationships with the three men you met last night, but also become a positive role model, counselor, adviser and confidant to them, as well as to others.”
Ben paused a moment to gather his thoughts, knowing that his daughter, the ex-cop, was latching on to his every word. “I was able to pick up on those things about him immediately, the minute I walked into the prison. He’s highly respected by more than just the warden. He’s earned the respect of the guards and his fellow inmates. They know he’s getting special favors, but it didn’t seem to bother anyone. In fact, it’s as if they know any favors given to him will eventually benefit them. They know that he will look out for them.”
Jules nodded then asked the question Ben had been waiting for. The one he had known she would get around to asking. “Do you think he’s someone who could have killed his wife?”
Ben didn’t say anything for a minute. “I only met him that one time, Jules, and the meeting lasted a little more than an hour. But it’s my belief that the only way he could have done such a thing is if he’d been pushed, and I mean pushed really hard. I never knew his wife, so I can’t say what he was dealing with. But, according to what Jace and Shana shared with me on the ride to Delvers, the brothers have proof that it was their mother, not their father, who was having an affair.”
Jules already knew that. The way the story went was that one night, while working late at Granger Aeronautics, Shana and Jace had discovered a secret compartment inside a sofa in Sheppard Granger’s office. The secret compartment held a file containing proof of the affair.
What Jules had found just as fascinating was why her sister and now-brother-in-law were in his father’s empty office in the first place. Both Jace and Shana had sealed their lips on that part, but Jules figured they must have been giving that sofa one hell of a workout.
“Throwing that into the mix,” Ben interrupted her thoughts to say, “a jealous husband might do just about anything. He might have snapped.”
Jules rolled her eyes. “Maybe right then, but not a few months later.”
Ben shrugged his wide shoulders. “Maybe not. But maybe he wanted a divorce, and she refused to give him one.”
Jules drained the last of her lemonade. “What if Sheppard Granger’s suspicions are true and whoever sent that email meant business? That means Shana could be in as much danger as Jace. It also means there might be more behind Sylvia Granger’s death than her affair. That may have just been a cover-up for something bigger.”
Ben didn’t want to hear that, although the same thought had crossed his mind earlier. Before he could formulate a response to his daughter’s comments, his phone rang. He stood up, grateful for the reprieve. “Excuse me for a minute. That might be Mona.” He quickly left the room to answer his mobile phone, which he’d left in the living room.
When he reached it, he frowned, not recognizing the phone number. “Hello?”
“Ben, this is Sheppard Granger. Is there any way you can pay me a visit? Today, if possible? I might need your help.”
Dalton walked into McQueen’s and glanced around. It was happy hour, and the place was certainly lively. He walked over to the bar and slid into a seat, thinking that just a few months ago, he and his brothers would have been enjoying a drink together after a long day at work. Now Jace and Caden were biting at the bit to get home to their wives.
“What are you having, Granger 3?” Myron, the bartender and owner of McQueen’s, asked. Myron was a fun-loving guy who managed a nice place. The drinks were good and the food exceptional. Myron had started differentiating between Dalton and his brothers by referring to Jace as Granger 1, Caden as Granger 2 and Dalton as Granger 3.
“The usual.”
Myron grinned. “Your usual is coming right up. Where are Grangers 1 and 2?”
Dalton shrugged. “Home with their wives, I suppose. Probably ran red lights to get there.”
“Marriage has a way of doing that to you,” Myron said, placing a glass of scotch in front of Dalton. “So don’t hate them.”
Dalton frowned. “I don’t. I just didn’t expect the changes so soon. Jace, Caden and I were apart for years, living our lives in separate places, but now we’re back in Charlottesville, what do they do the first chance they get? Get married. If that’s not bullshit, I don’t know what is.”
Myron shook his head, grinning. “Doesn’t sound like bullshit to me but good common sense. Remember, I’m also married—and happily. I played your game for years, different woman every day of the week, a flavor of the month. But at some point that crap gets old. I wouldn’t trade being married.”
Dalton figured he didn’t want to hear anything else Myron had to say. He wasn’t in the mood. Taking his drink, he said, “I’m grabbing a table. Talk to you later.”
Crossing the room, he saw several women checking him out, some brazenly, not even trying to hide their interest. Surprisingly, he wasn’t in the mood for them, either—women throwing themselves at him, probably needing a good fuck as much as he did. So why was he having a pity party when he could probably go somewhere and have an orgy? He felt the answer soak deep into his skin, and he could taste it on his lips. Because he only wanted a certain woman. One who was more edgy than soft, sharp than dull, one who invaded his dreams every night like she had a damned right to be there.