Page 115 of Dirty Rival
I’m up at six, and already my phone is going off. At nine, I call Connie. “I need radio silence. If someone calls you, tell them I’m giving a presentation and will call them when I’m out.”
“What are you doing, Reid?”
“Is Carrie there?”
“Yes. Do you want to talk to her?”
“No. I don’t.”
“She seems good, Reid. She’s excited about whatever you’re working on.”
“As we all should be,” I say, not giving her that hint of what’s between me and Carrie that she wants. That’s for us to reveal, at some point. And I’m going to make sure that point exists. “I’ll call you later.” I hang up and an hour later I’ve had black coffee and some sort of pastry I could have done without but I’m at the ranch and the gates are open.
I drive down the dirt road, and when I reach the sprawling white mansion that is the main house, I’m greeted by a ranch hand who informs me that Mr. West is gone for the day. He won’t return until tonight. It’s clear he’s living here. Interesting. I tip the man a hundred-dollar bill, with the promise he’ll call me when he returns.
I drive to a diner nearby and pull out my MacBook. I want to call Carrie, but I don’t. She’ll ask where I am and I want to tell her about this in person after I secure a truce. I’m at the table a good two hours when West slides into the seat across from me. He’s my father’s age, late fifties, and he wears those years just as arrogantly and well. “Obviously my hundred-dollar bill to the ranch hand didn’t earn me any loyalty,” I say.
“This is my territory,” he says. “You had to have known that.”
I study West, search his eyes for some part of Carrie to connect with, but I see nothing that resembles the woman who has come to mean so much to me.
“What are you doing here?” he demands.
“She matters to me. We aren’t a part of your war.”
“You’re his son.”
“We had an agreement. I did what you wanted.”
“And I gave you what you wanted.”
“Tell her.”
“Never,” he says.
“Tell her I didn’t destroy you.”
“Never,” he repeats.
“What’s it going to take?”
“You will never be with my daughter.”
“Money? I’ll give you money. I’ll make you a rich man.”
“I am a rich man.”
“And yet you took Carrie’s money.”
“To make her more money. And my money is locked up and substantial. She’ll inherit well and you won’t see a dime.”
“I don’t need her money. I need her. What’s the number?”
“There is no number. I don’t want money. I want out. I want peace. I want this place and the woman who’s here.”
“And the oil under her land?”
He smirks. “Of course, you know.”