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How did he know about the canceled tours? There was no way he would know what my bookings calendar looked like. Unless…a shiver squirmed up my spine. Did he have someone on the inside? God, I’ve gone paranoid.
“It’ll pass.”
O’Keefe shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not. Who knows…tomorrow, you might wake up and find even more of a shit storm on your front walk? There were what? Thirteen protesters today? What if that were to double tomorrow? What would it take to get you to see that this isn’t going away?”
My eyes went round. “You put them there?”
O’Keefe’s wolfish smile answered my question while his lips stayed clamped shut.
“Son of a bitch!” I raised my casted fist.
His throaty laugh stopped me from swinging. “Rosen, you are a delightfully simple man. So primal.”
“Get. Off. My. Property.” I grit my teeth, desperately tugging on the last piece of self-control.
“Listen, I’ll make this quick. I’ll double my original sum. That is a staggering amount of money for someone like yourself.”
I bristled at his assessment. “It’s not about money. You can’t buy me.”
“You’re really willing to walk away with nothing?” O’Keefe folded his arms and arched a perplexed brow at me.
“I have everything I need. Everything I want.” I looked around the property, the hulking shadows in the moonlight. “This place was my father’s legacy. I don’t expect someone like you to understand. There is no dollar amount you can put on this, and any attempt to do so will only insult me further.”
O’Keefe stared for a long moment, and for a brief flicker, I thought that I’d actually gotten through to him.
Then, he began to slowly shake his head.
“I really didn’t want to do this, Rosen, but you’ve left me no choice.” He reached into his dark blazer and pulled out a tri-folded stack of pages. He took a step closer to me and I stiffened.
“What is this?” I demanded, reaching for the papers.
“It’s a contract.”
“For what? Do you have some kind of mental defect? I just got done telling you I’m not interested in your offer.”
Motherfucker sure liked going in circles.
He smiled, predatory and cold. “It states that you’ve signed over all rights to the museum, the property, and planes to me.”
I laughed and made to tear the pages in half.
“I wouldn’t do that…” I paused. “If you don’t have these signed in three days, I will be going to the authorities with a very juicy little tidbit.”
“Really? Are we back to that again? Fuck, O’Keefe, one little bruise on the side of your head doesn’t prove a damn thing. We’ve already had this discussion, remember? Maybe I hit you harder than I thought…” I sneered.
He only flashed his maddening smirk again. Completely unfazed. “No, no. This would be in regards to Rick Tutor, your smuggler buddy.”
My heart dropped to my toes. How the fuck did he know about Rick?
He laughed. He knew he had me.
Damn him.
“You don’t think that a tail is all I had on our dearly departed Talia. No, no, that wasn’t enough for that slippery little minx. I had a bug sewn into every bag that bitch owned.” He fished a hand back into his pocket. “Now, don’t get excited. This isn’t an original. Just a copy. I thought you might like to hear it first. That it might help you make your decision about whether or not you want to sign your name on the dotted line.” He handed me the small memory card.
“I never mentioned anyone by name,” I said, taking the card. The question slipped past my lips before I could stop it.
“You didn’t have to. I had the location and let’s just say it was pretty easy to connect the dots. Remember, Rosen, you were an airman, not a spy. And thank goodness for that. You’re not very good at covering your tracks.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He pressed the fob and headlights flashed twice from across the lot. He’d parked his expensive luxury car in the farthest corner from my house. In the dark, there’d been no way to see it, and even when Jack had pulled up the long drive, the headlights hadn’t reached that part of the lot.
“Goodnight Rosen. I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again soon.” He turned and started across the lot, his cadence casual and unburdened. Meanwhile, on the first step to the porch, I felt as though a cement truck had unloaded its contents on top of me. I was frozen in place and crushed by the weight.
I clutched the memory card in my hand. What the hell was I going to do?
I had three days to figure it out.
22
“Son of a fuckin’ bitch.” O’Keefe had followed through on his subtle threat. When I opened my blinds the following day, the protesters had doubled. If he couldn’t get my land out of my hands by bribery and blackmail, he was going to get it by tanking my business.
