What She Doesn't Know Read Online Free PDF

Candy. “Has he taken care of you?”
    The twenty-something bimbo blushed and nodded. “Yeah. I get my money before…” She cleared her throat. “In advance.”
    “Fine.” Eartha came out from behind the bar, laid her hand on Parry’s shoulder and squeezed. “Max just called. Mr. Royale died a couple of hours ago. Max wants you home. Now.”
    “Louis died?” Parry stared at Eartha, his eyes bloodshot and glazed with tears. “Poor old bastard. I’m going to miss him.”
    “R. J., leave everything. I’ll finish here and lock up.” She delved into her pants pocket, retrieved her car keys and tossed them to R. J. “Drive Mr. Clifton to Belle Rose in my car. See him inside and take him straight to Max.”
    “I’ve got my own car,” Parry said.
    “Your car will be safe here overnight,” she told him. “You’ve been drinking and don’t need to drive. Max and Mrs. Royale and Mallory are going to need you in one piece. The last thing they could handle right now would be your having a wreck.”
    Parry heaved his thick broad shoulders, then sighed as he slumped over in defeat. He eyed R. J. “Boy, you know where Belle Rose is, don’t you?”
    “Yes, sir,” R. J. replied. “I reckon everybody knows where Belle Rose is.”
    “I sure as hell hope Louis did right by my sister and her children in his will,” Parry mumbled. “Guess we’ll be seeing something of Miss Highand-Mighty Jolie Royale now. She’ll be coming home to claim Belle Rose.”
    As R. J. led Parry out of the restaurant, Eartha busied herself with clearing away the dirty glasses, washing them and wiping the bar clean. Jolie Royale. She barely remembered the girl. Plump. Blonde. High-strung. And totally spoiled. The princess of Desmond County. Only months after his first wife’s death, Mr. Royale had sent his daughter away. Folks had said how sad it was that the girl has survived the Belle Royale massacre only to lose her mind and have to be sent away to an asylum. Of course, later on, they’d learned that Jolie had never been in the nuthouse at all; she’d been sent to an expensive boarding school in Virginia.
    Eartha had asked Max once about his stepsister, but she’d never asked again—not after the deadly glare he’d given her and the sharp response, “I don’t discuss Jolie with anyone.”

    Parry Clifton snored like a freight train roaring down the tracks. The guy had talked nonstop for the first fifteen minutes, then he’d quieted and fallen asleep. The snoring was a great improvement over the jabbering. R. J. instinctively didn’t like the man. His drinking and womanizing reminded R. J. too much of his own worthless father. After his mother’s death when he was six, he’d been at his old man’s mercy. He’d learned to steer clear of him as much as possible, to become invisible. That way, he didn’t get knocked around as much. He had no idea if Jerry Sutton was alive or dead and didn’t give a damn either way. He’d run away at fifteen and had stayed on the move ever since. For the past seven years, he’d drifted from one town to another, picking up whatever job he could. He’d lucked out when he arrived in Sumarville. Eartha Kilpatrick’s bartender had up and quit on her that very day. Fate had dealt him a winning hand three weeks ago.
    The huge white wrought-iron gates came into view, the entrance to Belle Rose. He could see the old plantation house from the road, although it set way back at the end of a long tree-lined drive. He’d learned pretty fast once he arrived in Sumarville that a couple of old families still ruled the roost in these parts. He hadn’t learned all the players or their roles in this antiquated Mississippi town’s drama, but he knew that Louis Royale was the richest and most respected man in the county and that his stepson, Max Devereaux, wielded the power of a prince.
    When he drove up to the gate, he noticed the security cameras and realized he’d have to identify himself before he would