Page 72 of Enticing the Fixer

“No. Not that kind of woman but someone who wanted the business sold. Maybe an investor or the buyer. Walter had called him about a medication his doctor was prescribing him. He wanted your father’s opinion about a drug interaction. Anyway, Jack told Walter he was meeting a woman and setting her straight. He wasn’t selling the business because it was his legacy to you. That all the money in the world wasn’t enough.”

Shit. Things are starting to look more suspicious by the second. There might be more at stake than a random virus and some missing money.

She jumps off the sofa and paces the small space from the coffee table to the front door. “So, someone has been trying to buy the company since before my father died.”

“It sounds like it. He’d never mentioned it to me. Walter also said he’d mentioned an argument with an Ethan someone.”

“Ethan.” She stops in mid-step. “That’s the board member that threatened me the other day.”

“Threatened you?” Mark lurches forward and clutches his side. “Damn it.”

Kinsley rushes to him and grabs his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” His face turns red. “It’s just a stitch in my side. Old men aren’t meant to move around that fast. We must warm up before we do anything.”

“Thank God.” She steps back and clutches her chest. “You had me scared.”

“I’m sorry.” He presses down on the arms of the chair and stands. “You’ve got to be careful. Your father told Walter that the money the board members could rake in dazzled them. Or at least some of them. But while it would have been a quick influx of money, the business should bring in more over the long-term. He wanted to set you up for sixty years, not ten.”

“But the board members are all in their forties or older. Most of them, anyway. An immediate payout would be tempting to them.”

I stand because remaining seated was uncomfortable. “Tempting enough to kill your father and sabotage you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t like to think that, but….” She shrugs.

“It’s starting to seem more probable by the day.” I inhale as fear skates through me. One of the board members had her father murdered. Or murdered him themselves.

There’s no question. Kinsley’s life is in danger. I’ve seen people killed over five dollars in poker chips in Vegas. This deal has a lot more zeros trailing behind the number five.

“I’ve got to talk to Truman.” And my guys. I step outside and make the call. I’ll protect my future at whatever cost.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kinsley

We’re silent on the drive back to the office. The possibility that my father was murdered is more than a possibility. The possibility had remained a conspiracy theory until Mark said the board had been pushing for the sale before my father died.

Why didn’t he say anything? Was he oblivious to the threat that could cause? Clearly. Why would he think it would turn out to be anything else? People offer to buy companies every day and turning them down doesn’t lead to murder. If someone was killed every time someone got greedy….

Oh, never mind. People do get killed every day over greed. My father just didn’t think it could happen to him.

“Are you okay?” Leo places his hand on my leg and squeezes, then returns it to the steering wheel.

“I’m okay. I guess. It’s surreal. I thought Keith was a nutcase when he mentioned someone intentionally seeking out my father, but it makes sense now. I guess.” I shrug. “I don’t know. Just because someone was mad that my dad wasn’t selling still doesn’t mean it was more than a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He glances at me as he flips on the turn signal. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“I guess.” Which one of the board members would risk their futures over money? Each board member rakes in 500k a year, so they’d make up the difference in four to six years. It would be stupid to….

It would mean a murderer is trying to convince me to sell the company. What happens if I don’t? And who is it?

It’s too much to take in. Too big of a stretch. My dad had to have been at the wrong place at the wrong time. And my bringing up the possibility of something else happening has weirded out his friends. They’ve started with the conspiracy theories and are running with it.

We turn onto the street in front of the office. The clouds overhead match my mood.

“We’re all trying to understand why he died so young.”

He taps his fingertips on the steering wheel in a steady cadence, one after another. “Let’s keep what we heard to ourselves.”

---