Page 11 of Destined Chaos
“You expecting reservations, Mom?”
“Not for another hour, dear,” she said, standing. She left the table and returned minutes later with two men in tow.
“Uh, Libby, are these two men here for the reservations you made earlier? They say they’re here to see you.”
“I guess I’m not that foggy after all.” Libby smiled and put the napkin on the table as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I rose with her, as did Clark, only retaking our seats as Libby gestured toward the others. “Mrs. Weller, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll show them up to their rooms.”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Weller sat back down with a frown marring her lips. It was evident she wasn’t happy about these new people.
“Who was that, Mom?”
“That was Dwight Slaughter, her cousin.”
“That was Dinky?” Clark asked, glancing over his shoulder where he’d once stood.
“Yep.” She tsked and met my gaze. “I was hoping you’d be quicker on the draw. Now that he’s here, there might not be any chance of salvaging the deal.”
I took a bite of the lasagna and swallowed it. “Why is that?”
“The other man is Dinky’s business acquaintance, and he’s interested in the property.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Clark finally asked, resting his elbows on the table.
“A Bennett birdie warned me that if the developer gets his hands on the mountain, then nothing will ever be the same again.”
“Sounds like the same birdie that warned me that we shouldn’t let any more outsiders in.”
Damn. My appetite vanished into a dark pit, much like my hopes and dreams for the property.
5
Libby
I swiped the room keys off the reception desk as we passed the check-in counter and handed Dinky the electronic card keys to each room. He shoved one into the card reader lock and opened one of the doors.
The man with Dinky walked in and glanced around the room. Dark furniture was placed around the room. The paintings on the wall weren’t store bought but looked like originals that should be in a gallery. They were stunning, even if the rest of the room was in need of a bit of TLC. It was a warm room and inviting, kind of like visiting a long-distant relative.
“Rustic,” he said, sliding out of his black trench coat. “They won’t be much competition.”
Rudeness. I rested my hands on my hips.
“Henry Johnson, I’d like you to meet my cousin and current owner of Slaughter House, Libby Slaughter.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Johnson said, extending his hand. He had a gold ring on each finger. Hhis watch alone looked like it could pay for Slaughter House. An age-old large jagged scar marred his palm. His look screamed he wasn’t the type of guy to piss off.
I should have pressed for how Dinky knew this guy. I didn’t try to push Dinky on his affairs, not since the last time I had to bail him out with his bookie. He’d promised to stay away from the casino tables, but this guy. He looked like nothing but trouble.
Dinky always was working an angle and hunting investors for his next big idea. None of which really panned out, but he tried. I’d offered advice once to help him get a leg up, but he didn’t take it. He said he didn’t need it, but it was more like it was his pride doing the talking.
I took Johnson’s hand. His large smooth fingers engulfed mine. Instead of shaking, he lifted my hand to his lips and placed a kiss. “Dwight didn’t mention you were beautiful.”
“Uh…thanks.” I slipped my hand free and inconspicuously wiped the kiss on my jeans. “Din… Dwight, if I can have a word with you?”
“Get settled, Mr. Johnson. In the morning, I’ll drive you up to the property so you can take a look around,” Dinky said, heading for the door.
