At the same time, Emma declared, “Greg would never have allowed that.” Then she hiccupped and dug through her purse for another Altoid.
He lifted his hands. “We all know they’re crooks. They could do some really bad stuff to us, as Andi was just suggesting, and it’s about money, straight up. Money we could use, ’cause whether you two know it or not, we’re asset rich and cash poor around here.”
Emma frowned at Andi. “You think they’d do something?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” Andi wondered if she should have hung on to the note instead of leaving it in Luke’s safekeeping.
“She’s blaming them for Greg’s death,” Carter said.
“Not true,” Andi jumped in. “I was just worrying aloud.”
“Greg was driving too fast,” Emma said carefully.
Silence fell around the room for a moment. Andi was sorry she’d brought up the idea. All it did was remind them of those last few months, when Andi hadn’t been the only woman in Greg’s life.
“You’re kidding about the Carreras, right?” Andi asked Carter.
“Am I? This goddamn loan’s taking forever. We may need to sell something or we’re going to have no money. And I mean none.”
“I thought there were reserves,” Andi said.
“You want to talk to the accountant, be my guest,” he snapped. “I didn’t call this meeting because I thought either of you had anything to contribute. I called it because you need to wake the fuck up!”
“We’re not selling to the Carreras,” Emma stated positively.
“Then let’s hear your ideas on making money,” Carter demanded. “The lottery? Gold buried in the backyard? A genie in a bottle?”
“Don’t be such a dick.”
“Emma and I didn’t know we were in financial trouble,” Andi cut in quickly, worried that Emma might hurl the crystal ashtray in the center of the table at her brother. “But whatever. The Carreras stay out of it.”
“Oh, you get to decide?” His blue eyes were cold.
“Brian Carrera threatened me at my club. Threatened all of us.”
Emma blinked at Andi as if trying to focus, and Carter demanded, “Threatened us? When? What did he say?”
“Yesterday. He said to be sure to tell you both that the Carreras make better friends than enemies, and that accidents happen.”
“Oh my God.” Emma blinked.
“Carrera belongs to your club?” Carter asked.
“He was on the treadmill next to me.”
“Holy shit,” Emma said on another hiccup.
Carter turned on her in a flash of anger. “Pull it together, Emma. I mean it. This is serious, if Andi’s telling the truth.”
“If I’m telling the truth?” Andi could feel her blood pressure spiking, had an image of red liquid shooting up a thermometer. Not good for the baby.
“I just meant—” he began, but Emma ran right over him.
“They’re killers. Maybe they haven’t been caught, but they killed Ted Bellows. We all know it.”
“That was an accident,” Carter snapped.
“Another accident?” Emma asked.
Carter turned his angry gaze on Andi. “So, they killed Ted Bellows and Greg?”
“All I know is that Brian Carrera threatened me, us, and I believe we need to protect ourselves,” Andi said. “What kind of security do we have at the lodge? What about ourselves? My cabin was broken into and somebody put a note on one of the beds that’s still there. It said, Little birds need to fly. And I think the Carreras put it there.”
“What?” Carter asked.
“What!” Emma practically shrieked at the same moment.
“Must be a play on our last name. Whatever. I’ve decided to be proactive. Yesterday I hired Luke Denton to help investigate the Carreras, pick up where his partner left off, at least legally, and bring them down. He also offered me personal protection.”
“Who?” Emma asked, looking dazed.
“That detective?” Carter asked. “The guy who falsified evidence . . . uh, Boucher’s . . . partner?”
“Bolchoy. And yes, Luke worked homicide with him at the Portland PD.”
“Luke?” Carter repeated.
“Yes, Luke,” Andi said evenly.
“What kind of personal protection?” he questioned, and Andi resented the insinuation in his tone.
“Any kind I need,” she answered.
“God, I need a drink,” Emma expelled.
“You’re already drunk. And it’s barely ten,” he railed at her. “Where’s Ben? Call him and have him pick you up.”
“Fuck you!” Emma shot to her feet, dropping her purse, which spilled its contents all over the floor. She bent down to pick up the items and half fell out of her chair. In a fury she slammed items back into her purse, spitting mad. “You . . . can go to hell, you fucking, smirking bastard! Hell! Along with the fucking Carrera brothers!”
She flounced out of the room, her exit slightly ruined when she caught the strap of her purse on the door handle. She practically ripped it in two as she yanked it free.
As soon as the door closed behind her, Carter growled, “You should have told me about all this before.”
“I’ve told you now.”
He slammed a fist on the table. “No wonder he was smirking, the shit.”