Desperate Enemies 3 by Adam Carpenter (latest ebook reader .txt) 📕

He dressed smartly in white Capri pants and a bright, flower print shirt, flip flops on his feet. He looked like he was going to have a relaxing lunch poolside, but in truth, he just wanted to feel like his old self, bitchy, flamboyant, and sexy. He'd left Eldon Court without a word to any of his neighbors, none of them about on the cul-de-sac. Not even the determined Parker, his endless digging perhaps as futile as the ground was fertile. Bodies, gold, whatever the land held, it didn't appear ready to give it up.

So he strode in to the Bayside Hotel, where a few of the employees welcomed him and asked how he was doing, how devastated they were by what happened to Aaron, “he was the life of this place, our regular guests already miss him as much as we do,” and Paolo accepted all condolences in the spirit they were given. Then he made his way to the bar. He'd only made it through the night at Edgar and Jack's with those tequila shots, and now knowing what he was about to do, well, a shot of Patron was in order.

“Silver,” he said, and watched as the bartender poured from the squat bottle.

Paolo accepted the shot glass, knocked its contents back with one gulp. The burning liquid felt so right oozing down his throat that he slapped the glass on the bar, indicating another. As he waited for his drink, he looked to his left and noticed another man at the bar, young, cute, with a thick shock of curly dark blonde hair, watching him curiously. Paolo acknowledged his flirtatious smile with a lift of his fresh shot, then went about his own private business without further thought toward the obvious advances of the guy. Still, as he made his way away from the bar, Paolo felt as though he knew that guy, that they had met somewhere. . .

Oh well, he had business to attend, that was the priority, and so he headed down toward the hotel's offices until he came to a door marked, “Private.” He didn't knock, instead just turned the knob and walked into the office unannounced to the utter surprise of the man behind the desk.

“What is the meaning of this. . .?” Danvers Converse asked, his wiry frame jumping up with surprisingly agility. His hand reached inside his desk drawer, but Paolo held out a hand in an effort to stop the man from doing something foolish.

“I mean you no harm,” Paolo said, “so there's no need to reach for your gun. Which I assume, is new. . .”

“Indeed, seeing as though your doomed lover chose to steal from me and try to use my own gun on me.”

Paolo winced at the brutal honesty, but said nothing further on the subject. Right now the last subject he wished to discuss was Aaron, what Danvers had done to him, what it had all cost him. Cost, yes, that was the key word here, it's all Paolo wanted to discuss. He closed the door, stepping forward and easing himself into Danvers’ guest chair. Danvers too settled back down, fingers laced like a church steeple, a crocodile's smile on his lips.

“So to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

“You want my house, you can have it,” Paolo said, “for the right price.”

“Well, you're certainly direct, Mr. Bautista,” Danvers said, intrigued, “but without the others, your house is worthless.”

“I think you're wrong.”

“Oh, how is that?”

“Gold,” Paolo said, playing his hand because he had nothing to lose.

Danvers’ smiled widened, like he was getting ready to attack and was enjoying the moment of anticipation. “Someone's been doing his research. Should have dealt with that snitch Miller more effectively.”

“What you want, it's not just about building a resort, that's just a front for what you really intend to do—to excavate the land around Eldon Court for gold—and in the process you get to destroy the Saunders family legacy.”

“George Saunders told me he loved me, then he sold me out for the security of his regular life,” Danvers said, “and then they crazy loon betrayed me.”

“I don't care about your motives, Danvers,” Paolo said, “I've got nothing left here in Wonderland, not after Aaron's death. . . it's time for me to move on. So if you want my house and my property, here's the price.”

Paolo unfolded a piece of paper he had been holding in his hand, slid it against the cherry wood desk, waiting anxiously for Danvers to pick it up. He did, finally, of course he did, he was a businessman first, fueled by his endless quest for money and power, but also to fulfill his plan for revenge. The man raised his eyebrow at the amount.

“A hefty price,” he said.

“It's nothing compared to what I've lost,” Paolo said.

“So I pay for the house and the land, and the rest is. . .”

“Collateral damage.”

“I'll have to think about your offer,” Danvers said.

“You have two days,” Paolo said. “If you don't buy it, I'll sell it to someone else.”

Danvers eyes narrowed. “And who would that be?”

“My neighbors,” Paolo said, “They'll all come together and buy Number Three from me, thus strengthening their hold on Eldon Court. Just makes your job even harder.”

Danvers Converse said nothing for over a minute, and the silence and warmth in the office brought beads of sweat to Paolo's forehead. But he wouldn't wipe at them, not when he had the upper hand. Or did he? Had he overplayed it? But just when he was getting ready to speak, Danvers broke the silence.

“Fine, two days. I'll give you my answer,” he said, extending a hand across the desk.

Paolo refused to accept it, and Danvers just nodded with understanding.

“Well played, Mr. Bautista,” Danvers said, standing back up.

“Oh, no, Mr. Converse, nothing about this entire mess has been well played,” he said, and then without another word he exited the office, finally letting out