Page 80 of Fresh Old Bounties

Sonia clapped her hands one more time. “Everyone has made good points. If an offer is made, we shall bring it to a vote.”

Dru’s expression turned mutinous, but without the capital to convince the bank to sell her the Corner Rose, she couldn’t simply jump in and dare the room to choose a chain over her.

Sonia dealt with a few squabbles after that, then set us free.

“That went better than I expected,” I said as we walked toward Ian’s SUV. Between Bosko and Veva’s support, I thought we had a good chance at denying Preston if he put in an offer for the shop.

My phone vibrated in my pocket with an incoming text. From Dru. Who was walking by my side.

I checked it surreptitiously, in case it was some kind of secret SOS. It was a list of names. Definitely not a cry for help.

“You sent me a list of names?” I asked. “Why?”

“I wrote down everyone who argued for selling the Corner Rose to the bastard,” Dru said. “So we can investigate them.”

I studied her face. She wore quite the malevolent expression, complete with scary smirk.

“You mean blackmail, don’t you? You want to see if there is anything we can blackmail them with.”

The smirk intensified.

“Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far?” I asked earnestly. “We don’t need to resort to dirty tricks. We have a strong argument. That’s enough.”

Dru shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

“Ian,” I said, turning to him, “tell her she’s overdoing it.”

The paranoid bounty hunter shrugged. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Well, that one was on me.

Instead of turning toward the mom-and-pop restaurant for our usual after-PBOA dinner date, we walked on to the parking garage, and I sighed wistfully at the street as we left it behind. I’d come to really enjoy our little PBOA tradition, but with Dru here, there was no chance for a quiet dinner. She’d spend it making plans on how to “convince” people to back us up. Ian had likely sensed that too.

We were piling into the SUV when Ian’s loud phone alarm went off.

“What is it?” I asked, startled.

He scowled at his phone for a few moments. “Someone’s trying to break into the house.”

NINETEEN

“Oh, no,” I exclaimed. “Call the police?”

“Get in,” Ian ordered.

Dru and I hurried to get into the car and strap our seatbelts on. Ian started the SUV and made it to the garage gate in record time.

He tossed me his phone. “Check what he’s doing.”

“Police?” I ventured again.

“No.”

Nothing to do about that. His house, his decision. I checked his phone as he accelerated into the street—a security camera feed filled the screen, night vision tinting everything into shades of gray. A male figure dressed in black, including gloves and a balaclava, was tooling around the back door.

“He’s not afraid of the dogs,” I said.

“Because they’re at your shop,” Ian answered darkly. He took a corner at high speed and I braced for impact. “What’s he doing now?”

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