All three men gave her looks that said they didn’t believe that. Neither did she.
“Could it have been the rat?” she asked, trying to think of who might have warned Corey that she was there. “Except that doesn’t make sense unless . . .”
“He’s been working for the Devil’s Sinners all along,” Damon said grimly.
“That would mean Luther was too,” Spike said.
“I know,” Damon replied. “Which is why we need to find out for sure. We’re going to set a trap using the rat.”
“What kind of trap?” she asked.
“Less you know the better, my dear,” Grady said.
“But you will deal with Luther, right?” she asked. “You won’t let him take over from his father. Because if you’re not going to take care of him, I will.”
“And how would you do that, my dear?” Grady asked in a deceptively casual voice.
“I don’t know. Pay someone, I guess. Maybe we should do that. Do you know someone who could kill him? I can pay for it.”
Damon shot a look at Spike. But he sat there, watching her with that too-knowing gaze of his.
“Is there some reason you’re so adamant about Luther being taken down?” Damon asked.
“Other than all those poor women that he abuses?” she asked.
“Yes,” Damon said. “Because while most people would feel horror over that, they wouldn’t be willing to part with their cash to take him out. By the way, that would take a significant amount of capital to achieve.”
“I have money.”
“And just how does an out-of-work librarian from Nowhere, Nebraska have that sort of money?” Grady asked.
“I won it.”
“You . . . won it,” Grady said slowly. “In the lottery?”
“How much money are we speaking of?” Damon asked.
“I think it’s a little over a million now. I used a bit of it already.”
Damon crossed his arms over his chest. “If you didn’t win the lottery, how did you win it?”
“Well, I’m not really sure.” This was the bizarre part. “I must have entered a competition. This man came to my house with a check for two million dollars.”
They’d all grown tense. “What? It’s not that strange, is it?” Of course it’s strange, Millie.
“Actually, it’s very strange. Do you remember the name of this man? Or the name of the competition? Where the money came from?” Grady questioned.
“He had some sort of normal name. Like Ken Jones. But I do remember the name that was printed on the check of the company who ran the competition because it was so unusual.”
“What was it?” Spike spoke up for the first time in ages.
“For Fox Sake.”
Spike sat there for a long moment.
That couldn’t be right.
He had to have heard wrong. Right?