being a mother. Linda was always too concerned about keeping her dancer body trim and fit. Doug’s fatherly love remained focused on Shawn and his other child, Shawn’s younger sister, Melanie.
The shock and unexpectedness of Linda’s infidelity had almost caused a heart attack. He’d never been the same since.
Shawn was almost ready. Doug had been training his son and showing him the ropes for the last fifteen years. As the Vice President of Operations, he had the respect and loyalty of the key staff at the casino. He was all business, but fair and hands-on without being a micromanager. Shawn was smart and could be ruthless. Retirement was near and he’d turn almost everything over to him. Shawn would be a great CEO. Doug could chair the board, with veto power over only a few essential matters. That suited him fine.
Shawn would receive an additional thirty-six percent of voting stock, giving him fifty-six percent majority ownership and voting control of the company.
Melanie would not feel slighted. Doug’s only daughter was in med school and headed for a career as a top surgeon. Non-voting shares plus a stock and cash inheritance would almost equal Doug’s bequest in value, so neither child would feel that the other was favored.
The remaining twenty-four percent of non-voting shares were divided in half between his ex-wife Beth and Linda. He didn’t want to give Linda a dime, but as his wife she was contractually privileged, even if she had been “stepping out.” That was more than enough for two women who, he had to admit, had never interested him as much as his business did. What was wrong with him? Too late for that. Making the best arrangements and having easy years seemed like the best he could expect.
Because his ex-wives both had nonvoting shares, Shawn in the end would have one-hundred percent voting control, with certain decisions that would have to be approved by Doug, for as long as he was chairman. He still hadn’t told Shawn that yet.
Linda was about to lose her entire part-owner share of the Greek stock, because Doug was meeting with his attorney to discuss the processing, filing and serving of the divorce papers. It was her own fault, because Linda had known from the time she signed the prenup that divorce would lead immediately to that loss of ownership. However, she’d found that “car salesman,” Ace Sanders, more attractive and important than all the love and everything else that Doug had given her.
He should have acted sooner, but filing for divorce required too much energy. Now, he was forcing himself, tired as he was, to finalize the divorce, get it over with and get his life and emotions in order again.
He slumped deeper in his chair. He was done for the night. He’d already spent too much time thinking about his personal problems.
There was a rap on the door.
“Mr. Grant, have you signed off on those papers?”
He looked up to find one of his night-shift pit bosses standing just outside the door.
“Darryl, come in.”
The casino employee entered and Doug handed him the papers.
Doug walked toward the big office window that looked down on the casino main floor.
“How does it look tonight?” he asked.
“Philip called in sick, so I moved Joey to table games supervisor and Nancy is the stickman tonight.”
Doug nodded but didn’t speak.
“Is everything all right, boss?”
He sighed. “I watched my father build this building with his own hands. It has grown from a small, nickel and dime outfit to what it was now, an operation that generates hundreds of millions of dollars annually and is still growing. I just don’t know how much I have left.”
He saw the employee’s reflection in the window, shuffling his feet uncomfortably.
“What can I do?”
He turned around and smiled at his employee. He wasn’t going to burden this young man with his troubles.
“I’m done for the night, Darryl.”
“Yes, sir.”
He said his goodbyes on his way out of his casino as he did every night, making sure every employee at the Greek felt appreciated. He gave Shawn last-minute instructions.
“Have you thought anymore about our expansion idea?” Shawn asked.
Doug nodded. “I’m going to look at some properties tomorrow. See you in the morning.”
“Bye, Dad.”
He left the casino thinking about his appointment with the lawyer tomorrow afternoon.
There was an outside chance that Linda knew he was playing her, but it was all about the money—even if she knew. She’d be on the way out of his life by nightfall tomorrow.
Ace Sanders sat in his trademark black Ferrari outside the Greek Casino, a few blocks from his destination. He couldn’t believe the long hours that the sixty-three-year-old Grant still put in at work. Everyone knew the man was a grind.
Ace let his staff do the dirty work. Everyone reported to him daily at eleven and unless there were problems or decisions that needed his direct involvement, their reports were enough. He’d always paid well to recruit top casino executives and for years had left the management of his casinos up to them.
Once done with details, Ace spent the rest of the day roaming the floors of both casinos, talking to the high rollers and charming them into bringing in new, rich customers. He loved the games, the women and the house’s guaranteed wins.
Ace watched the front of the casino. No movement.
As he waited, he shuffled a deck of cards and dealt four poker hands. He dealt the last card and set the remaining cards on the passenger seat between the hands. He picked up his five cards and smiled.
Three queens.
He checked the other dealt hands. “This really isn’t your night, Douglas,” he muttered.
He opened the glove compartment and pulled out the weapon, a smooth, seven-inch, high-carbon hunting knife, a beautiful, shining tool that left almost no evidence at the scene, except for whatever the police could learn from knife wounds. They might figure out the kind of knife that had been used and the cuts would tell them a bit about who used it, but he was sure that nothing would tie him to this. He’d bought the knife from a famous German knife maker who had personally made it for him, so it would never be traced.
He was about to exchange two cards when he saw his target exit the building. Ace checked his watch. It was after ten. Grant was a classic creature of habit, someone who
Grant waited as the valet retrieved his car, then hopped in and moved into traffic.
Ace waited a moment before turning on his headlights and following Grant’s vintage Jaguar. He remained a good distance behind—he already knew the route the man would take home.
The two cars turned off the main road without another car in sight. There were no streetlights, but he could see Grant’s Jag approaching a vacated strip mall that had been closed down for years.
A deep thrill climbed Ace’s body.
Doug had just turned onto the back road, less than fifteen miles from his place, when he noticed the car behind him. It moved quickly, lights flashing.
He shook his head but pulled the Jaguar into the deserted parking lot of an abandoned strip mall.
A Ferrari pulled beside him on the right side.
Sanders was the last person Doug wanted to see.
Nothing moved in the Ferrari. The windows were blacked out, so he couldn’t see the driver’s face.
The window of the Ferrari moved down. It was Sanders. Did he want a confrontation?
