A heavy, oppressive weight settles down around my shoulders. I don't like the sound of what they're saying. The way that Damon mentions taking care of Liam and that he's not going to be a problem has a sinister ring to it. And honestly, it sends a chill down my spine. Call me paranoid, but something just doesn't seem right. Something is definitely going on here.
Eventually, their conversation returns to more mundane topics and I'm forced to remain in the booth while they finish their coffee. I don't want to walk by them and alert them to my presence. I sit there, sipping my own drink, trying to figure another way out, when I hear them stand up and end their meeting.
Thinking I finally have my chance to get out of there, I scoot over to the far end of the booth and prepare to make my break. Unfortunately for me, I nearly knock the plant sitting on the back of the booth down. Because I'm just that graceful.
Thankfully, my reflexes are quick. I reach out and grab the plant before it can go tumbling down to the ground and shatter. But, as I'm steadying the wobbling ficus, I slowly become aware that the mayor and Damon are standing there, staring at me.
“Oh hey,” I say, sitting up straight and trying to act casual like I hadn't just heard these two men talking about “taking care” of their competitor. “The two of you decide to enjoy this place one last time before demolishing it? Change your mind at all?”
Damon's eyes narrow as he looks at me. Or more like, looks through me. I stare back at him, unflinching, and smile brightly. It seems to irritate the piss out of him, which makes me a little happy inside.
“Very funny, Ms. Samuels,” Goodrich says. “No, quite the opposite really. Mrs. Brenton, as you're aware, sold to Mr. Moore here. So, we're just chatting about the plans for this beautiful city of ours.”
Damon, clearly agitated, butts in. “Plans that would come to fruition much faster if you'd work with us, rather than fight against us, Ms. Samuels,” he says. “Don't you want what's best for your hometown? We certainly do. That's why we're doing what we're doing here, believe it or not.”
“Hear, hear,” Goodrich says. “Well said, Damon.”
I roll my eyes so far back into my head, I fear they may get stuck like that forever. Which, if it means not having to actually see either of these two assclowns standing in front of me again, it might be worth it.
“Let me think about that, Damon,” I say. “Oh, guess what? The answer is still no. Sorry if that makes your plan of destroying my city any harder for you. No, wait, I'm not sorry. Not at all.”
Damon's cheeks color and his eyes flash with a look of white-hot rage for a second before he's able to rein himself in. He dials it back and in the blink of an eye, he's composed, and his expression is one of pure patience and compassion.
But, then he sneers at me, shakes his head, and blows the whole patient and compassionate vibe he was going for. It's interesting, however, that as this whole drama has played out over the past few weeks, how often his mask slips around me the angrier I make him. He may not believe it, but I actually see him for what he is – a monster.
Damon fucking Moore puts on a good show and can play a role with the best of them. He portrays a kind and compassionate man almost flawlessly. At least, while things are going his way. When they're not, the real Damon Moore – the monster – comes roaring out of the darkness.
The latter of the two Damon Moore's, his face twisted with rage, his eyes narrowed with hate, stands before me. Giving me a good look at his real, true nature.
“We'll get your property one way or another, Ms. Samuels,” he hisses. “I was just hoping we'd be paying you for it instead of the bank.”
“Huh, the funny thing about that, Damon, is that I own the property outright,” I say. “My parents paid for it in full years ago. No bank holds a loan over my head. If you'd have done your research, perhaps you'd know that. What sloppy, careless work. And quite honestly, gentlemen, that sort of sloppy work really worries me about what kind of plan you have for this town.”
The fact that I know something he doesn't or rather, that I corrected him about something he didn't know – in front of the mayor, his business buddy, of all people – not only makes him look like an idiot, it also makes the white-hot anger in his eyes burn brighter than before. He glares at me for a long time, and that look almost makes me want to hide in fear. Almost.
“There are other ways, Ms. Samuels,” Damon says, his voice low. “There is always another way.”
“Are you threatening me, Mr. Moore?” I ask, feeling my own anger ignite.
“Not a threat, Ms. Samuels. Just food for thought,” he says. “Have a good day.”
Damon and Goodrich turn and walk towards the exit without saying another word. I can't help but watch them and wonder what they have in store for Liam. And what the ominous ‘other’ ways to steal my shop from me might entail.
Whatever it is, it does not sound like good news for Liam or me. As I stand there watching them through the front windows, I decide I need to tell Liam what I'd just overheard. He needs to know.
Chapter Twenty
Paige
I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. I hate waking up before my alarm. Glancing at the clock, I see it's only a few minutes early, but God, I hate getting cheated out of those minutes. Dawn is beginning to break outside and I know that I should get up and go for a run. I'm just feeling incredibly unmotivated this morning. Sleeping in and then having a leisurely cup of coffee sounds heavenly to me.
But I have work to do and can't be a bum all day long. As much as I'd like to. I have a shop to run, after all. So, while I might forgo the run, I can't afford to lay in bed all day. Besides, I need to make sure that I see Liam today. I need to talk to him, tell him about what I'd overheard.
As I think about it though, I actually have no idea what I overheard. Neither that developer guy, Damon, or the mayor was exactly – specific. From where I sat listening, it sounded pretty ominous and foreboding. It sounded to me like thinly-veiled threats or as if they had some sinister plan in the works. And the fact that they had mentioned Liam by name is what made it all the more worrisome to me.
I mean, after all, he was recently attacked in Seattle by some unknown assailant. And although he may not be ready to believe it, I'm more than convinced that his ex-wife had a hand in it. Based on some of the things he's told me about her, there is no doubt in my mind that she's behind it. In fact, she probably had her boyfriend do it.
I can't say with any certainty that Liam's attack is in any way connected to what Damon and the mayor were talking about, but the whole thing has left me feeling really unsettled. It's like I'm looking at all these different pieces of a puzzle. And I know that once I start putting the pieces together, everything will come into focus and I'll have a coherent picture. I just don't know where to begin.
I don't believe in coincidences and nothing that is going on has changed my mind. And although I have nothing concrete to give him, only my wild speculation, I feel like Liam needs to know. At the very least, he needs to know that Damon Moore and Mayor Goodrich are speaking about him and apparently have something in the works with him in mind.
My alarm goes off, so I reach over and turn it off. A few minutes later, the aroma of brewing coffee saturates the air. Inhaling deeply, I savor the scent. Now, if I could only find a robotic butler to bring it to me, I might never have to leave the bed again.
The sound of the heater kicking on rumbles through the house. It's February in Port Safira, which means it is damn cold outside at this time of the morning. Knowing that makes me want to get out of bed even less. I'm curled up in my warm, cozy blanket, and there's a big part of me that wants to stay here the rest of the day. To do that though, I'd need coffee and a good book – which means, I'd have to climb out of my bed for both.
“Damn it,” I mutter to myself.