Total pages in book: 168
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 159420 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 797(@200wpm)___ 638(@250wpm)___ 531(@300wpm)
“That’s what I thought too,” he says, completely calm. “But as I said, I met your father and we struck up a deal. Apparently, the land I’m interested in is also of interest to him. Has been for decades. So I told him if he helps me get the land I want, I’ll give him a percentage of it.”
My stomach bottoms out.
No. No, no, no. It can’t be. It… I know. I know what he’s talking about. There’s only one piece of land my father is interested in, has been for decades, and he’ll do anything to possess it. Including befriending this psychopath from California. Rawhide.
“I see you finally understand,” the man murmurs.
“The Graysons—”
“Are not very friendly,” he says, cutting me off, his eyes changing, becoming harsher. “Which is the opposite of what you hear about people in small towns. You go to L.A. and someone’s rude, you think that’s the nature of things. But you come to Black Rock, Montana, a town that’s a dot on the map, and someone doesn’t want to see you, no matter how many phone calls and emails you send, that’s strange. There’s something wrong with the Graysons, isn’t there? Something does not fit. They’re too secretive, too tightly bonded. Even the men who work for them. And believe me, I tried. I tried to get them to talk, but no one did.”
That’s because many of the men who work for the Graysons are bound to them for life. They’re reformed criminals with their own set of codes, and no matter what, they’ll never talk. And the man who reforms them, the man who forces them to do penance, is going to bring down his fucking wrath, along with the wrath of the entire Grayson clan, on this California clown when he finds out. That’s my only thought in the moment.
“But what people do talk about is the Grayson–Turner rivalry,” he goes on, cocking his head to the side. “About their bloody history, how for years they have been at each other’s throats, trying to steal each other’s land. Trying to hurt each other. Which is how we came to work together, your father and I. The enemy of your enemy is your friend; isn’t that how it goes?”
Anger is making my chest tight as I ask, “So what’s the plan?”
“The plan was simple,” he says, putting his elbows on the table, threading his fingers together. “Pick a man from the Grayson clan who has the best motive to hurt the Turners. Force him to steal the Turner Princess. Make it look like a Grayson-instigated kidnapping that the Turners will have to retaliate against. Sort of like throwing gasoline on an already burning fire. Escalating the situation so they fight among themselves while someone else swoops in and takes advantage of it, buys their land out from under them.”
Then he explains in a casual tone as if giving a lesson, “It’s the oldest play in the book. It’s called a hostile takeover. It’s how mergers happen. Or how a rich government takes control of a poor country. By destabilizing it.”
My heart is slamming in my chest; my skin is at once both sweaty and chilled. “So then… then why shoot at me?”
At this, a wheezing sound fills the room and my eyes skitter over to my father. Believe it or not, I completely forgot he was in the same room with us. But he looks… afraid. It’s not an expression I’ve seen on his face before. His eyes are still locked with mine and are wide. And his face is red, the tendons of his neck standing out as his chest jerks up and down. I realize why. It’s because the man beside my dad is squeezing his breathing tube.
“What… what are you—”
He lets it go and throws me a smile. “It’s just something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”
“I don’t—”
“Your father’s a horrible man. I hope you don’t mind me saying that,” he says, putting a hand on his chest. “He just is. He’s done a lot of bad shit in his life for money, for land, and while I understand that, there’s some stuff he’s done that I draw the line at. Befriending him was more out of necessity than a choice. I don’t really like him all that much.”
I look at my dad again. He’s breathing normally, but I understand why he’s been sitting there so rigid, his spine straight. It’s because he’s petrified. It’s not his formidable persona that’s making him look like that; it’s fear.
“Anyway, kidnapping you was your father’s idea,” he begins, and I look back at him, shaking. “Picking Radisson King was your father’s idea too. He told me it’s his most famous crime. The whole town knew who was behind that accident sixteen years ago, but no charges were ever brought. There was some retaliation from the Grayson clan but nothing to match the severity of what he’d done. Personally, I’d think murdering your father in a similar fashion would’ve been a nice gesture, but”—he shrugs—“anyway, he thought if Radisson kidnapped you, everyone would believe it. It would look the most convincing, given the history. I, however, had a different idea.”