Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105708 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Right. I’ll be in touch.” I end the call, my fingers thrumming the table, when Rita buzzes again.
“Beck is here.”
She sounds uncomfortable. Beck has that effect on people. “Send him back.”
“He sent himself back,” she says, and sure enough, Beck opens the conference room door.
He’s thirty-five. Tall. Quiet. Lethal. The difference between him and Kurt: CIA vs. SEALs. No conscience versus conscience. I don’t get up. I let him come to me. He saunters toward me, dressed in black jeans and a Metallica shirt, his longish, black hair spiky. He claims the seat previously occupied by Kurt, his stare meeting mine, his blue eyes so damn pale it’s like looking into the eyes of a husky on the prowl, ready to attack. You want this man on your side, but you protect your throat.
“I hope this visit means you finally did your job,” I say drily.
His lips quirk sardonically. “Meredith Winter had a gambling habit most of her adult life. Ten years ago, her husband reined her in and put her on a budget.”
“And made no provisions to control her when he died.”
“Exactly. And when he hit the ground, she did, too. The underground poker rooms—and those dudes are bad news. She lost her touch. She took out markers against the winery, which explains why there was no money trail for her spending and why your father was paying her cash.”
“If you want me to believe they both ended up dead over a gambling debt, you’re barking up a fool’s tree. My father would not just pay off her gambling debt, no matter how good a fuck she was. Not without leveraging her for the winery, and he’d put that in writing. You need to find it.”
“I told you. Someone wiped the phone and computer records. There are entire periods of time missing from your father’s and Meredith Winter’s records. But there is an obvious suspect here. The next person in line to inherit, even if he had to force it through the court system.”
“Faith’s uncle,” I supply.
“That’s right. Keep her away from him.”
“He fucked her mother. She hates him.”
“Interesting,” he says, though he never sounds overly interested in anything. “When?”
“The year Faith graduated from college.”
“He was married then,” Kurt says, proving he’s been studying up. “And his wife is the female Mark Zuckerberg; her company is Facebook’s biggest competitor. He wouldn’t want his wife finding out he bent over his brother’s wife, as she, from what I understand, gives him an allowance and keeps him on a leash.”
“He’s filthy rich. No prize at that winery would be worth killing over.”
“But protecting his secret would be.”
“None of this connects dots that make sense.” I circle back to where we were. “This gambling debt was a tool my father used as a weapon. You need to find out why he needed that weapon, because that’s why they both ended up dead.”
“If you’re right—and I believe you are—Faith is now the target.”
“Which is why I’m taking attention and pressure off of her. I’m going to get my bank to buy out the bank note, and we’ve done up dummy documents to make me a key stockholder. That brings the attention to me.”
“Or you trigger a reaction you don’t want by making whoever wants that winery think they can’t have it.”
“Pissed-off people make mistakes, and we’ll be watching.”
“Or your actions ensure that history repeats itself. Your father and Meredith Winter got in someone’s way. Now you and Faith are in the way. They died. You two die.”
“And would you suggest I do something differently?”
“No,” he says, standing up and, without another word, heading for the door.
Chapter Nineteen
Faith
I arrive at the Allure Gallery right at nine, parking the BMW in the rear of the gallery, running my hands over the logo on the dash with a smile. And not because it’s a BMW but because it’s this BMW. Because this one is custom, sleek, and sexy, just like the man who owns it. I’m just about to exit the car when my phone buzzes with a text from an unfamiliar number. Faith, this is Nick’s assistant, Rita. He’s in a meeting but wanted you to know the minute the inspectors arrived at the winery. They are there now and have already checked in with Kasey.
I am pleased by this text. It tells me that Nick listened when we talked. He’s trying to keep me involved and informed. I text Rita back: Thank you. I am looking forward to meeting you.
Rita replies with: When will that happen?
This week, I hope , I reply.
Looking forward to it as well. Let me know if you need anything, is her message.
I smile at her offer, but as my mind turns to Kasey, I suddenly feel selfish for being here, not there. He’s dealing with everything I don’t want to deal with, and I’ve never put that on him or taken that off of me. I hit his autodial, and he answers almost immediately. “Everything is fine,” he says, greeting me. “I’m quite capable, in case you’ve forgotten.”