Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I know what a shell game looks like. Hell, Jasper taught me this shit when I was seventeen years old. And I know damn well, in a second, what Paul is up to.
The trick is, you make the “feeder” accounts look like legitimate business. And when I glance over his sheet, that’s exactly what he’s doing. One is branded as a “construction advisory contracting firm.” The other is a geological surveying start-up based in Florida. The only problem?
They’re all Paul’s companies.
I glance through the windows of the cafe, and Paul is yammering away with the barista behind the counter. Fuck it. I open up a folder, and I start poking around. It takes me all of thirty seconds to find the cleverly named “Contracts” folder inside the equally ambiguous “Shell Corps” folder. Apparently, you don’t have to be a genius to pull this off in a trusting place like Canaan.
I open the PDF named “Main Trust Contract,” and I start skimming. Instantly, I frown.
The Trust is in Paul’s name, and the contract is a standard boilerplate one, like pretty much every Trust contract I’ve ever looked at. There’s even the subsection that mentions that in the event of a marriage where finances will be joined, the trust is to be dissolved to avoid compromise. That’s standard shit, but then, Paul is getting married.
My frown deepens. What the fuck is he up to? But then, it’s pretty damn clear what he’s up to: Paul’s about to scam this whole fucking town.
There is no church, that’s pretty clear. In fact, he’s got pre-approval contracts for buying property in Costa Rica. I roll my eyes at how brazen and obvious he is, but then, Paul is from Canaan, which is exactly the type of town a con man would pick. I mean, that’s why I’m here.
I scowl at the contracts and some of his other scheming before I glance back inside the cafe. Paul’s being handed two to-go cups, and I quickly close everything down and bring his original spreadsheet up. He steps out of the cafe and grins as he sits and hands me the coffee.
“So, where were we?”
I smile thinly. “Paul, I’m afraid I do have to run. But, let’s put a pin in this.”
He frowns slightly, but he nods. “Yeah, yeah for sure, Gabriel. We’ll revisit soon? Before you leave town?”
I smile. “Absolutely.”
Not. Absolutely not.
I want no part of Paul’s bullshit. I’ve got my own shit to figure out—with what I am, with what this thing with Delilah is, and going along with that, what it means with her and I when I leave town in a few days’ time.
Later on that afternoon, I’ve got one last sermon for the day scheduled at the tent. The place is packed like it’s been since I got here, and I give ‘em a standard dazzler about “being the light” and “illuminating the Way for the unsaved.”
But, there’s no collections plate, and it’s not an oversight, I just don’t pass any along. I also don’t set up a collections bucket, I don’t do any baptisms, and I still don’t sell a single bottle of snake-oil.
When the crowd leaves, I sit on the edge of my stage, scowling. I’d ask myself what the fuck is wrong with me, but I already know what it is.
It’s her. It’s Delilah. But then, I’m not sure if what this new me is with her in my life is such a bad, or wrong, thing.
Chapter Twelve
Gabriel
“I brought you something.”
I look up, startled, from my notepad to see Delilah leaning against the post by the back-flap to the tent, grinning at me. I smile back, and a warmth melts over me, like it always does when I see her.
She nods at my notepad. “What are you working on?”
“A sermon.”
She giggles. “You actually try?”
I roll my eyes. “Hilarious. And yeah, I do.”
“See I thought you just pulled stuff out of your…” She blushes adorably, and I love that she still gets all ruffled when she’s about to try and use an actual cuss word.
“Your ass.”
I chuckle. “You’re starting to get a mouth like a sailor, hanging around me.”
She giggles.
“But yes, I try.” I shrug. “You know, sometimes.” I grin and nod at the paper bag in her hand. “What’s that?”
She grins. “This.” She reaches inside and pulls out a huge mason jar filled with something orange and amber colored. My brow perks up.
“Is that some of that peach moonshine?”
“Yes indeed.”
“And you brought enough for the whole class?” I tease.
But she just rakes her teeth over her lip. “Yeah,” she breathes. “I did.”
I smile curiously. “Are you actually joining me in a drink for once?”
She nods, chewing at her bottom lip as she grins. “Just for once, though.”
I make a tsking sound and shake my head. “Naughty, naughty.”
“Well, I’ll be praying extra hard tomorrow.”