Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103665 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Yeah. I don’t spend money on much. Once you tell me what you’re putting in, I’ll match it.”
She might just hug him. “Great.” Her fingers tightened slightly on the counter. This had been in motion longer than anyone knew. She’d already asked the banker, Peter Rentzing, to start running the numbers months ago—right around the time Jarod had forced her into that engagement. She hadn’t told a soul. But she’d had a feeling. Something in her gut had whispered that she’d find the right opportunity, and when she did, she needed to be ready. Now she had a partner. One she genuinely liked and wanted to help.
Ace sauntered off toward the far corner where the TV showed a PGA tournament somewhere warm. Palm trees, clean fairways. A fantasy.
Amka leaned down for her coat. “I’m heading to the bank,” she called out. “Be back in an hour.”
“Hey.” Ace turned away from the television. “Wait a minute. I’m your escort.”
“Ace, I think I can make it down the street on my own.”
He gave her a broad, almost sunny grin. “Sure. If there’s not a sniper waiting to pick you off at high noon. It’s doubtful, I know, especially since the troopers have been patrolling your street continually. But I’m on Amka duty.”
Amka duty? She rolled her eyes. “We have to find that sniper.”
“We’re working on it,” Ace said grimly.
She had Osprey men around too much these days. “Fine, but that means we’re holding our first corporate meeting today.”
“Fine by me. Why are we going to the bank?”
It was a fair question from her new partner. “Okay. So, I’ve been working with the bank to secure funding for a project, and now I actually have the real estate to do it. I’d planned to mortgage the bar and my house for my future, and now we just need to wait for the insurance money. I’d like to get everything in place.” And maybe get Jarod uninterested in her.
“Thinking ahead, huh? When we’re at the bank, we can check how much I’ve got in there too,” Ace said, pulling the door open with a creak. “Might surprise us.”
“Maybe we should build a couple buildings,” she said. “And buy another plane.”
He huffed. “Let’s not get cocky. I don’t know if we’re rolling in that kind of cash.”
She arched a brow. “Let’s find out.” It was time she concentrated on her life and built something to last, even if she was on her own. Well, as soon as she got out of this situation with Jarod.
Now the town was buzzing with the news that two local kids found a body near Rascal Mountain. Christian had gone off alone to track the killer. She’d fought herself from calling him all morning. He wasn’t hers to worry about, no matter how many times he’d kissed her.
Chapter 21
The warmth from the fire in Sam’s Tavern finally heated Christian’s feet. He might need new boots. He leaned back in his chair, legs extended, coffee in hand, sleeves rolled to the elbows. The coffee was strong tonight, just like he wanted.
Dutch sat across from him, his posture loose in that deceptive way seasoned lawmen managed when they were thinking too hard.
Christian's gaze drifted past the flames, to the bar where Amka stood behind the counter with Daisy, both laughing about something. Her hair was loose again, shiny and silky down her back. She looked lighter tonight, happy, even. The tension that had clung to her last night had disappeared.
Ace had mentioned that they’d formed a business together before he left for the night. The woman did like numbers, so perhaps that’s why she seemed happy?
She wiped her hands on a towel and leaned into Daisy’s side as they bent over the schedule, lips moving fast, both chuckling.
Christian’s throat went tight. He didn’t want to need that smile. Didn’t want such beauty pulling something loose in his chest. But her joy and kindness did. And he felt that need like pressure against his ribs.
She hadn't looked at him once since he'd come in.
Fine. She didn’t need to.
The front door creaked open.
Cold air swept across the floor, and two uniformed troopers stepped in, hats off, coats wet from the still-misting rain. One male in his mid-sixties and a younger female with dark red hair. True red hair. They spotted Dutch and made their way across the tavern.
“Evening,” Dutch said, dragging a chair out with one boot. “Coffee’s hot.”
They both sat. “Evening, boys,” the female said.
Dutch nodded toward Christian. “This is Christian Osprey.”
“Jeb Pontevo.” The older guy extended a hand. His grip was firm. “This is Paige Johnson.”
The woman held out a hand and Christian shook it. “Nice to meet you.”
Dutch grinned. “Christian is working with me as a consultant but will be an AWT by the end of the year. He tracked the killer of the victim we found earlier. Can’t believe we finally can identify one of these victims who’d had their eyes scratched out. Poor bastards.”