Tony sighed. “I suppose we can find supplies further down the coast.”
"You want to go back and talk with them, be my guest,” Reese said. “But I'm with Libby." He pointed over the bow at the open waters of Boston Harbor with his left arm. “Let’s raise the mainsail and get out of here.”
Chapter 19
Spalding Residence
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
Darien leaned against the door frame inside Harriet's kitchen, crossed his arms and watched the executive board meeting of the Bee’s Landing Homeowners Association come to order. There were five members of the executive board, including Harriet. And every one of them, except Harriet, cast furtive glances in his direction, or put heads together to whisper. They knew he was an outsider, and by the look on the face of the short fat one, they had more than an idea of who he was and where he currently lived. None of them looked happy, except Harriet, who’d plastered a manic smile on her face.
The short fat one raised his hand. "I'd like a point of order, please, before we get going.”
Harriet paused mid-sentence, cleared her throat, then gracefully sat and gestured for him to take the floor.
The short fat one—Darien couldn't help himself but nicknamed the man Roly-Poly—clambered to his feet and adjusted his button-down shirt like a professor about to lecture an unruly class. "What exactly is the meaning of this, Harriet? Who is this person? This is supposed to be a closed session—how are we supposed to get board business completed in a swift manner if we've got someone who we don't even know—“
“This is Mr. Darien Flynt. He's one of my husband's closest friends at work,” Harriet replied evenly, exactly like they’d discussed.
Darien nodded at the agreed-upon times during her scripted performance. Harriet did well, he had to admit. They hadn't had enough time to go over it properly, and the story certainly wouldn't hold up in court, but if she kept it together, he felt confident they'd be able to trick the board. She’d made discreet inquiries and discovered that none of them knew all that much about their neighbors. She, of course, knew a little about everyone, but the executive board members were far too busy preening themselves to look good in everyone else’s eyes, rather than make friends in their own neighborhood.
"He worked with my husband, Henry, and was able to escape Charleston when…” Harriet put a hand to her mouth and caused it to tremble just the right amount.
Two of the board members softened their stony looks and glanced away. Darien had to give it to her, Harriet knew how to pull one’s heartstrings. She was a superb performer. He wondered how much of her interactions with him were performances and frowned.
“Darien has brought me word of Henry—he told me how my husband saved his life. It is perhaps the crowning achievement of Henry’s career at the bank, that he would sacrifice…excuse me," she said, right on cue, and dabbed at her eyes. “My husband sacrificed himself so that his friend, Darien Flynt, might live. And now Darien has come here to tell me, at great risk to himself, of Henry’s last moments."
The two board members who Darien had recognized from the start as the ones Harriet had already told of their plan glanced at the others and frowned. The youngest, the hothead lawyer who’d been most eager to go door to door and confiscate property from those who—in his opinion—had hoarded supplies, slapped the table with an open palm. He stood and pointed at Darien. "This isn't going to work. They’re not going to believe that."
“What’s going on here?” demanded Roly-Poly as he adjusted his glasses.
Darien leveled a cool gaze at the young lawyer and smiled from the shadows. "It'll work. No one else is going to think twice about it. You guys have a bigger stake in the game." He pushed off from the door jamb and stepped into the kitchen. Everyone but the young buck subconsciously leaned back.
They didn't know much about him, of course—Harriet made sure of that—but all prey animals recognized a predator when one strolled into their midst. And among the tender fingered, soft bellied desk jockeys of Bee’s Landing, Darien Flint was most definitely a predator.
"It doesn't have to convince everybody,” he said. “The story just has to keep people in line."
The hothead lawyer sneered. “What happens if that doesn't work?"
"You leave that to me," Darien said with as much menace as he could force into his voice. When push came to shove, Darien wasn’t a fighter—he’d rather think his way out of a tight situation, or even better, steal a car and speed away. But he'd learned over a long, moderately successful criminal career that nothing got a message across faster than sheer, unadulterated violence. And for that, he’d rely heavily on Jon Boy.
The thought turned his stomach. The poor, simple-minded giant was as innocent as a child, but blessed with more strength than three men. Darien promised himself that no matter what, he would take care of Jon Boy. Without someone like Darien to guide the gentle giant, he was a prime target for someone less scrupled. The big man wouldn’t last more than a week without Darien.
But without the loot and supplies squirreled away in the fancy houses of Bee’s Landing, none of his crew would survive more than a week. He just had to make sure that the executive board knew they wouldn't last more than a day if they displeased him. To that end, Darien decided he needed to make an example.
He stepped closer to the marble topped kitchen island in the expansive heart of Harriet's house and changed course from Roly-Poly to the young buck. He was not only taller and broader of chest, but younger and likely stronger
