Page 6 of Colton's Secret Weapon
She shrugged, not always that great with earthly time passage. “Ten years, maybe?”
He nodded. “I was in law school.”
Right. He’d won a full scholarship to Harvard. She’d still been in high school, and every teacher, the principal, pretty much anyone who was vested in getting students to study and get good grades, had held up the possibility of a Harvard scholarship as potential reward.
She’d forgotten about that. Studied him anew at the memory.
The man, for all his surface living, had more layers than she’d expected.
Interesting. But not pertinent to the moment. Or his purpose in her life.
He was still looking at her. It felt like he was touching her, too. In what seemed to be a kind way. Unless she was self-imposing her own needs onto him.
Seeing herself starting down a path upon which she would only get lost, Dove gave herself a mental shake and forced herself to focus on the more mundane—but vitally important. “Ladybirdwas Mom’s boat. She used an inheritance from her grandmother to buy it after she got sick. She used to take me out on the water and…”
No. Stick to the mundane.
“She left it to my father in her will—”
Emotion welled, but anything else Dove might have said was interrupted by the sound of her cell phone alerting her to a call.
A particular call.
From a problem she was tackling by begging Mitchell Colton into helping her father.
Brad Fletcher.
He’s looking for a soul to steal.The line from the famous song filled the room. She’d set the ringtone to remind her not to let the man trick her into captivity.
Fear struck her. She let the phone ring twice. She had to answer it. Wouldn’t let him think he’d intimidated her.He’s looking for a soul to steal.The line of the famous song played a third time. Giving her a boost of strength. She needed at least one more.
“Are you going to get that?” Mitchell’s voice pulled her out of her haze. Drew her gaze in his direction.
And she didn’t need the fourth ring.
Filled with confidence, she said, “Hello?”
Mitchell didn’t mean to eavesdrop. The office space Whaler had chosen for himself among the buildings on his little property was about the size of a cubbyhole.
He still couldn’t make out all of the words booming from Dove’s phone. Atake it or leave itandbest you’re going to get.
It wasn’t so much the words that had him tuning in. It was the tone of voice he heard over the smartphone in Dove’s hand.
That, and the way her hand was shaking.
A sign of fear or weakness at odds with her tone as she said, “I’ve told you, Mr. Fletcher, I’m not interested. Please do not call again.”
She was pushing to end the call as she issued the last word.
Timed perfectly. Like a movie scene that had had many takes and film editing to make it so.
Her phone calls were none of his business. Except that she’d asked for his help. Beyond that, he’d heard a threatening tone that had raised the lawyer in him. “What was that about?” he asked, without a hint of apology.
“Brad Fletcher. My dad won’t take his calls or open his emails, so he’s taken to calling me. He wants to buy St. James Boats. I’ve told him multiple times that we aren’t interested in selling. And the offer he just made was so low, no way I’d accept. He keeps warning me about the business losing equity and that when I’m forced to sell, he’ll get it for half of what he just offered.”
Mitchell’s radar had been up just from the man’s tone. He liked the situation even less with Dove’s added information.
“There was menace in his tone, Dove. You need to be careful. Block his number. If he shows up here, call the police.” Hislawyer’s brain was going at Mach speed. They could file for a restraining order…
