Page 54 of Chasing Storm

My eyes land on the big guy as he nods. It’s not that I don’t trust him. I’m protective of Teagan.

The delay in response has Elijah adding, “I promise Simas will take care of her.” I reluctantly agree. “Take out the casserole and we can get down to business.” He turns to Simas. “In a half hour, you can get Teagan.”

I text Teagan that Simas will be there instead, and I take out the food. Elijah strolls into the kitchen, assessing the room. His hand runs along the countertop, gazing over the cabinets and out onto the deck from the glass kitchen doors.

Elijah breaks the silence. “Regarding James. We’ve received calls of sightings from him in the Midwest. Other than that, it’s as if he’s disappeared.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s around. I believe Teagan when she said she saw him.”

He holds a hand up. “I’m not denying she did. Nor am I saying he’s not around, but he’s off all radars.”

This doesn’t sit well with me. If Elijah can’t find him with all his money and resources, how the hell am I going to be ready when he decides to make an appearance? My hand runs through my hair and scratches the scruff on my face. I had hoped Elijah could flush him out. Now, we’re the ones living on the edge, checking our backs, when it should be James.

Elijah leans on the counter. “Joe, we’re not giving up. James probably disappeared knowing you’d be contacting me.” I give a not so convincing nod. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep all of you safe. Your family is special to me.”

I offer them something to drink and we make our way into the living room.

I ask Elijah, “Should I bring my laptop out or do you want to head into my office to look over the accounts?”

“Nah. You can just tell me.”

“I’ve made you three million over the last five and a half months.” This has him bobbing his head up and down. “I recently sent you the information.”

“Sorry, I haven’t gotten to it yet. Life has been…hectic, to say the least.”

Simas cuts in to tell us he’s leaving to pick up Teagan. Once he’s gone, I go over the trades I’ve made, and mention his property I sold in the beginning. Elijah had reservations on selling, but I explained to him that the property wasn’t generating any money for him, nor did he have any plans to build on it. The guy has umpteen properties, and I think he’s lost count of them, so I’m about to tell him so.

“Do you have a realtor who handles all the real estate you own?”

“Yeah, why?”

He’s leaning back in the chair, getting comfortable as I spring it on him.

“There’s no doubt you’re a savvy businessman, but I think you’ve put too much faith in your realtor.”

“Joe, I’ve been buying and selling property for years. I think I know what I’m doing.”

“With all due respect,yourrealtorhas been buying and selling.”

Elijah places his drink down, leans his elbows on his knees, and says, “Are you suggesting I haven’t had any input into my ownerships?”

He’s losing his patience, so I quickly add, “Not at all. I’m saying you have so many businesses and properties that I believe your realtor isn’t giving you proper advice or suggestions.”

His eyes lock on mine, contemplating how to respond. His fingers steeple, and he taps them against his mouth. “Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Hold on, let me get my documents.” I return and sit on the end of the couch nearest Elijah and lay out my spreadsheets. “This property on Cape Cod hasn’t done anything. You’ve owned it for five years, and never built on it, so all you’re doing is paying taxes. The notes I’ve found about it mentions the land can’t be built on.”

His eyes narrow, but he scoots forward to look at the items. “My realtor never told me that.”

“Look Elijah, I think it’s possible he might have been cooking the books. The last sale I found on the property is $725,000, which was yours. When I checked the accounts from five years ago, it’s written that you paid $760,000.”

He curses, rubs a hand over his mouth, and asks, “Are you positive?”

“No, I can’t say he’s definitely stealing from you, but from the little bit I’ve researched, it seems your books are showing more than what you paid. Either he fudged the paperwork to reflect $760,000 for the difference of the actual sale or it was an accident.”

“There are no $35,000 accidents, except on my part. We’ve been friends for a long time, so the past couple of years, I’ve slacked off on following up and let him handle everything.” He slams back against the chair. “Fuck!”

I remain quiet. If there’s one thing I know, it’s letting someone’s fumes settle before throwing more onto them.

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