Dutton smiled. “This goes beyond fishing in unmarked waters or getting in a bar fight.” He leaned back in the chair and looped his arm over the back of Courtney’s. "These things have a way of moving forward whether we want them to or not. It's only a matter of time before formal charges are brought. And these aren’t ones you want to snub your nose at. These are federal. These are the kinds of charges that?—“
"Hey, Dutton."
Shit. Trent should’ve known his father wouldn’t stay hidden or quiet. Trent certainly wouldn’t have if someone had been trying to railroad his son. He swallowed. Odd thing to think right about now, but it was true. If Trent ever did have a kid, he wouldn’t let anyone speak to him, or her, that way. Not without a fight. Didn’t matter if they were grown or not.
His father strolled into the kitchen with the swagger that Trent had always remembered. Had always admired. Had always wished he had. His dad stopped at the edge of the table, looking down at the man who’d sold him out twenty years ago with the expression of someone who’d been waiting a very long time for this very moment.
Trent sat up a little taller and puffed out his chest.
"Long time no see,” his dad said.
Dutton stared at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
Courtney wasn’t handling the situation any better as she looked like she’d been frozen in time.
Trent wished he could take out his phone, take a picture, and send it to his friends.
"And really—" He pulled out the chair beside Trent and sat down. "You're resorting to blackmail these days?" He shook his head and made a tsk noise. “With my son, no less."
Dutton stared. Whatever he'd walked in here expecting, it was obvious by the way he looked between father and son, this wasn’t it.
Courtney stiffened, and she cleared her throat. “This is unexpected.”
“Well, they did just dig up my grave the other day.” His father winked.
"You being alive creates potential legal complications for you personally. I'd tread carefully if I were you,” Courtney said.
"I'd be more worried about how my being alive might bring some attention to your father, as well to what you're planning on doing here in Calusa Cove with Sovereign Resources,” Jack said. “You know, history repeating itself and all.”
A phone buzzed. Courtney reached into her bag and pulled it out. She tapped the screen, showed it quickly to Dutton, then set it on the table, face down.
Trent pushed back his chair, stood, and walked to the window. He stared out at the moat. A couple of gators had climbed up on the grassy section of the yard near the dock to sun themselves. He contemplated how much he could push Dutton and Courtney. This wasn’t his wheelhouse. And while his father had known Dutton twenty years ago, he had no real experience with the man in present day.
“Because of you, my girlfriend’s uncle is dead,” Trent said.
“We heard about Slade.” Dutton nodded, like he might actually give a damn. “He was a good marshal. I enjoyed working with him, but we had nothing to do with his murder.”
“That, I don’t believe,” Trent’s dad said. “I’m sure my son and Dove agree with me on that point.”
“And I’m not selling Mallor’s Landing," Trent added.
“Yes, you are.” Dutton picked up the offer from the table and held it out. “You will sign it. Today.” He’d shed any semblance of congeniality and civility. "Or Dove doesn't make it to your driveway."
Dove glanced at the dashboard. It had only been twenty minutes since she’d left Mallor’s Landing, but the fact that she hadn’t heard anything from Trent regarding his visitors spiked her pulse.
She turned down the access road, which curved through a tight row of cypress trees with branches hanging low enough to drag across the truck's roof. She thought coming through the north side of the property, past the Alligator Farm, across the walking path, and past the graveyard would be best, since she could hide her vehicle, take cover, and get a good look at what was going on inside the main house. Only, it was taking longer than she anticipated.
On the side of the dirt road, she could see the iron fence of the family cemetery through the trees, the old stones catching what light filtered through the canopy.
She focused her gaze on the hairpin turn coming up, looking to avoid the big pot hole.
“Shit.” Just as she came around the corner, she had to slam on the brakes. “What the hell?” A dark SUV sat sideways in the road. Three men stood in front. All holding weapons at their side. Not a pleasant greeting from people who didn’t belong.
The engine hummed as she stared at Karl standing between two men she never seen before. Slowly, she lifted her phone off the seat and pulled up Buddy’s contact information.
Buddy: 3 gunman access road, Mallor’s Landing. Need back-up.
“Get out of the car with your hands up,” one of the men yelled.
