Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 285(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“It can be frustrating,” Kelly says. “I fought Leif for the longest time. I wish I could give you some advice. The truth is, I don’t know Falcon, and although Leif used to, he’s the first to admit that he doesn’t anymore.”
“Eight years can change people. Especially eight years either behind bars or in the trenches of Afghanistan.”
“Sure enough,” Kelly agrees. She pops the potatoes in the microwave.
I set the broccoli to roast in the oven, and because we can’t grill the steaks since we can’t go outside where the grill is, I decide to cook them the old fashioned way—in a cast iron skillet I find in one of the cupboards. That’s how my grandmother still cooks steaks to this day.
I put the skillet on the stove, turn the heat on.
“How long will the potatoes take?” I ask Kelly.
“No more than five to ten minutes. It’s hard to gauge when you have four in there at once. But I’ll check them periodically. Keep going till they’re all squeezable.”
“Sounds good.” I search the refrigerator. “No sour cream but we’ve got butter.”
“Butter’s good. I eat butter as often as I can. I never had it when I was a kid.”
“You never had butter?”
“It’s a long fucking story, Savannah, and I don’t want to bring the evening down any more than it already has been.”
“I hear you. Maybe one day you and I can have a girls’ night.” Then I sigh. “Except my life… It’s so screwed up. It may never be the same.”
“It will be.” Kelly smiles. “I’ve seen Leif work miracles.”
“Maybe you have, and I’m sure he worked more than one for you. But my family has way more resources than Leif does.”
“Leif is backed by the Wolfe family of Manhattan. They’re billionaires.”
“My family isn’t worth billions. We’re probably close. But it’s dirty money. I have a trust fund, but I’m determined not to touch it.”
“I hear you. I inherited a shit ton of money from my father. My natural father, who I never knew until recently. I ended up giving most of it away to charity, to help abused women who needed it. Of course I socked away enough so that Leif and I can have a good start in life.”
“Who can blame you for that?” I give her a smile. “But I don’t want any of mine. Not a cent.”
“Even if it could help Falcon?”
I bite my lip. “That’s a good question, and if I thought Falcon needed it, I would hand it over in a minute. But his family has their own money. Falcon has a trust fund that’s probably larger than mine.”
“True. Leif tells me they’re heirs to the Cooper Steel fortune.”
“They are. His grandmother passed away a little over a year ago. Everything went to her only son, Austin Bellamy, who’s Falcon’s father. Plus they have a lot of money from the ranch in their own right. They’ve got a huge operation, one of the biggest in Texas.” I frown. “You think Falcon is telling Leif the truth right now?”
“I couldn’t say,” she says. “But I do know Leif can be very persistent. And very resourceful.”
21
FALCON
Eight years earlier…
It’s not an easy thing, withdrawing that much money in cash from a trust fund.
And it’s not like a drug cartel on the border is going to take a cashier’s check.
Funny thing about banks. They don’t keep millions of dollars in paper money sitting around. Lucky for me, I have contacts.
The one person I know who will never let me down is my grandmother. Sandra Cooper Bellamy.
I take a drive to the far side of our ranch, to her mega-mansion.
My grandfather, Brick Bellamy, passed away a few years ago. Nana hasn’t remarried, and I doubt she will. She and my grandfather had one of those once-in-a-lifetime love stories. They were still holding hands in their sixties. It was equal parts cute and nauseating.
I didn’t tell her I was coming because she would’ve asked why. Not that I need an excuse to visit Nana, but I didn’t want to have to say anything about this over the phone.
I bring my car to a stop in the circular driveway that’s lined with majestic oak trees, parking behind Nana’s black Lincoln town car. Her driver, Jackson, is on call at all hours. Nana doesn’t go very many places anymore, so Jackson’s probably in his room in the mansion waiting for his phone to ring.
The house itself is a sprawling mansion, the exterior designed from limestone. It’s warm and earthy tones are welcoming, as is the wide southern veranda with ornate columns and a spacious wrap-around porch, home to three porch swings. As kids, my brothers, sisters, and I spent many happy hours out here eating Nana’s homemade treats and washing them down with fresh lemonade. I broke the swings more than once, and each time, Pops threatened to whoop my ass, but he never did. Nana wouldn’t have stood for that, and Pops would do anything for the love of his life.