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“Figures,” I say. “How the fuck did he get away with that?”
“The usual loopholes. He’s got major problems. To be honest, you probably didn’t have to pay me to do this. Sooner or later, he’ll face an audit. The man is a ticking time bomb,” he says.
“What else?” I ask him. “Anything illegal?”
“Addiction problems, but you already knew that,” he says. “The guy buys escorts every week. I don’t know if you can get him on any legality issues, but it’s all there in my reports. You’ll see his browser history too. He searches you a lot.”
“He searches me?” I scoff. “What the fuck is wrong with this guy?”
“That’s not the whole of it either,” he says. “That hotel project he’s got going on in Colorado — well, he doesn’t have the funds available to open. He can’t pay any of his workers.”
I feel the plane start to rumble. “You know that because of his bank statements?”
“Sure, his bank statements show that. But it’s not only that. He’s said it himself,” he says. “In his emails. Check it out for yourself. The guy is dirty. He flat out said this hotel is going to be a dud. A lot of people are going to lose their savings because of this guy.”
“Do I have your blessing to take the man down?” I ask him, smiling to myself.
“Hell fucking yes you do,” he says. “Guys that prey on the innocent deserve the worst. Take. Him. Down.”
“Good. Listen, we’re taking off. I gotta run. Thanks for everything. I owe you one.”
“See you, brother,” he says. “You paid me, so you’re good. No owing needed.”
As the plane takes off, I hang up the phone. Below is Detroit, but in front of me is the rest of my life. There’s so much I want to do now that this is going to be taken care of.
I reach into my coat pocket and take out a small box.
Inside is a diamond ring. It’s simple and not over the top.
I could have spent millions, but my gut tells me Madison isn’t a woman to gush over money. It’s the gesture that counts.
She’s the one I want to spend my life with. I’m sure of it. And I’m going to propose to her right after Byron falls.
I just hope the plan works out, and that I get there in time.
Hours later, the plane lands.
Boulder is nothing like I imagined. It’s luscious and green, and everything you’d want in a city. Well, except the elevation.
When I step out from the plane, I can barely get any oxygen. At this rate, I’ll be crawling to the hotel fundraiser.
I check my email at the nearest coffee shop. There’s still time to waste, and I’m not about to blow my cover.
I scroll through all of Byron’s emails.
One email reads:
“Boulder? Are you kidding me? We’ll never make a cent there.”
The reply is what gets me.
“Tax loopholes, my friend. If the development doesn’t pan out, we’ll be fine. We’ll still get the hype we need. It’s the brand name that matters, right?”
I scroll through his bank account statements. There’s at least fifty grand I can make out going to “Angel’s Escorts,” based out of Detroit.
Fifty grand of the company’s money.
Even if I can’t get them on the legality, I can expose them for the frauds they are.
