Page 35 of Guilty as Sin
“Because,” she said, going for her pink tote behind the counter and feeling less off-balance than she had all day, “I’m getting pressure to sell my land. You aren’t the only one who’s had threatening messages. And Brett Hunter wants to buy it.”
“Oh. Well, bugger me.”
“Possibly,” she said. “I think that’s dirty, though.”
“Definitely.” He waited while she turned off the lights, then followed her out the door and waited while she locked up. “Did he know you were armed?”
“No,” she said. “Nobody but you.”
“I like the way that sounds. But tell me about these threats. And about Hunter.” He pressed the button to unlock his pickup, which was exactly the sort of uncompromising black workhorse she’d have expected him to drive, but instead of hopping in on the driver’s side, he went ahead of her and opened her door.
“This is very chivalrous of you,” she said, remembering at the last minute to tuck the folds of her skirt inside.
“I know,” he said. “Unusual.” And slammed the door.
By the time he came around the truck and climbed in on his side, unfortunately, she was getting a few regrets. “So you know,” she said, “I’m not flirting.”
“No,” he said gravely, pulling out of the spot, swinging a tight U-turn, and heading for the gym. The sun was low, with twilight just around the corner, and he flipped on his lights. “I see that. Merely displaying your weaponry.”
“It worked. Got you at a disadvantage.”
“Too right. Tell me about the threats. And about Hunter.”
She sighed. “You’re hard to sidetrack.”
He glanced across at her, then back at the road. Unfortunately, they were already at the gym. “I am,” he said, pulling into the lot and a parking space, turning off the engine, but making no attempt to get out of the truck. “So tell me.”
She hesitated, still. Why had she showed him? Why had shetoldhim?
Because in another week, she’d be gone and Lily would be here alone. And somebody needed to know. Somebody she trusted. Just in case. “Not like you,” she finally said. “Not the overt threats. But L— I’ve been getting pressure to sell my place to Hunter for the new ski area he wants to build, since it’s the last big parcel before you get to the ski runs, and it’s good for cross-country skiing. And this morning, I got a text. It just said, ‘Leave,’ which isn’t much. But I couldn’t trace it, and it didn’t give me a good feeling. It was probably from a burner phone. Anonymous. The kind you buy at Walmart.”
“I know what a burner phone is.” His jaw was set into those lines again. “Pressure? Does that mean you don’t want to sell?”
“Yes. But some people don’t like to take no for an answer.”
“I’m surprised, then, that you’d—what? Go out with Hunter? I’d have thought it’s the same thing as my stalker. Say no once, then keep saying it. If you engage, they win. They win once, they think they can win again. Massive and overpowering force, that’s what you want. No fair fights.”
“Gee,” she said, “you must be fun to live with.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
How was she going to explain this when the real answer was, “I wanted to assess the threat to my sister?” With an “as much truth as possible” approach, she decided. “I needed to see whether that pressure—beyond the aboveboard part of it—was coming from Hunter or from somebody else.”
“And you’re that confident you can tell?”
“Yes.”
He stared at her some more, and she met his gaze. “And what did you decide?” he asked.
“That it probably wasn’t him. He’s offered me a parcel trade before, and today he offered a better one. He said that was his best offer. Take it or leave it. And I think it probably is. I asked every question I could think of—water, sewer, electric, gas, flooding—and told him I’d be checking, and he didn’t seem fazed. Of course, he could be having somebody else apply the pressure, while he keeps his hands conveniently clean.”
“It’s a good offer, then?”
“Well, yes. It is. Lakefront. And he offered to move the house. That one surprised me.”
“Probably because it’s cheaper than building you another one and tearing yours down.”
Paige nearly winced at the thought of Lily’s reaction to seeing her pretty cottage demolished. “Probably.”
