“That’s all you know? Really?” I pressed.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “What’s your point?”
I growled. “I heard about your new friendship with the Lieutenant Governor. It’s not a coincidence that he and Kennedy have been on the opposite sides of the gambling permits. He has a vested interest in the laws not being expanded. I know exactly what he has stock in. If it passes he will lose millions.”
She shook her head. “That’s interesting, I guess.”
I knew my face was red. I felt my temple throb with the anger. “You know more. You know all of the story. And I need you to start talking.”
She shrugged. “I’m guessing you heard we had dinner last night. Is that what this is about? Some kind of defense of your father? Rushing in here to save his honor? I haven’t mourned him long enough for you?”
“I don’t give a shit about my father. You can start with dinner and work your way backward.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t speak to me that way. You’re in my house.”
I huffed. “Actually, it’s mine. I’m letting you live here.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but she knew it was true. I inherited every penny and every inch of real estate my father owned.
“Unless you want to move out on the street, start talking.” I glared at her.
“You wouldn’t. I’m your mother.”
I grabbed her wrist. “How about I take you down into the Vieux Carre tunnels? I’ll show you where he died. Where your grandchild’s father died.”
She wrangled her hand away from me. “You’re being dramatic.”
“Am I? I watched him die. He died right in front of me.”
It was the first time she flinched. “You went into the tunnels?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
She reached for a chair and sat. “I-I—” She looked up at me. “You weren’t supposed to go down there.”
“What was your plan? Was it to put your daughter’s life in danger? Maybe the baby’s instead?”
She shook her head slowly. “No. Never. I would never let anyone hurt the baby. That’s absurd.”
“Then what? What fucking manipulative scheme did you come up with?”
“Anthony wanted to make sure she didn’t ruin everything he had.”
“Kennedy?”
“Yes,” she snapped, but her eyes closed. She regretted it. “Anthony Gardner and I met at a charity event. You know the masquerade ball I used to attend with your father.”
“But wasn’t that a few months ago? Dad was alive.”
She shrugged. “He was. But Anthony and I started a friendship. We had mutual interests. Kennedy was squeezing us dry with the interest rates. Your father wouldn’t do anything about it. Nothing. He just stood there and let her steal from us. She was close to taking everything Anthony had too with her absurd glam casino resort. So, we formed an alliance.”
“To kidnap her?”
“To remove her from New Orleans,” she answered.
The other suspicion that had haunted me since the night of the tropical depression surfaced. “Was it the first time you kidnapped her?”
“What?”