Mr. Davidson had his gaze locked on Ian. She wondered why the man didn’t seem to be getting worried or scared. He hadn’t even yelled at her to shut up. If she were him, she’d have been yelling at her to shut up. Instead, Davidson just seemed completely at ease. No, not at ease. He was holding still. Waiting. I wonder if Ian has sent him some kind of signal.
“Maybe I should just lock the bitch in a cage with the two of you,” Baker taunted. “Bet it wouldn’t take too long listening to her mouth for one or the both of you to strangle her.”
“Yeah?” Ken looked at her and then at Ian. He turned back to Baker and shuffled his feet, keeping that man’s attention completely on himself. “I kind of like her sass, myself. And she has a point. You don’t appear to have a working brain. The truth is no one stole your legacy, Baker. You fucked it all up first, by not giving a damn about your dad and his business until you’d destroyed all your other options. And that destruction happened because, second, you’re a totally incompetent businessman. The only thing, apparently, that you know how to do with a business is to drive it into the ground.”
“Don’t forget the part where he screwed his credit so badly that no American bank would deal with him anymore,” Alice said. “I suppose it takes a premier level of incompetence to do that. I guess if you stretched your thinking, that could qualify as a talent.”
“And timing isn’t the only reason you didn’t get your grubby paws on Travis’s business,” Ian said. “You were lazy. You couldn’t be bothered to move your ass from Colorado to Texas when you discovered it was for sale. We were ahead of you by about two weeks, a fact I believe Bob Travis will be grateful for, well, probably forever.”
“Yeah,” Ken agreed. “Laziness, for sure. But timing, too. Yours, Owen, baby, sucks.”
“So that’s why he’s failed up to now?” Alice asked. “Basic incompetence and poor timing?”
“Oh, he’s failed now, too. There’s one more failure we should mention, though I suppose that fits under the heading of incompetence, as well,” Ian said.
Alice inched ever so discreetly toward Ken. She had no idea what was about to happen, but she knew, she knew Ian was going to make a move. It also seemed as if he’d just begged the question. Oh, well, go big or go home.
“Oh yeah, babe?” Alice asked. “What failure is that?”
Baker’s face had been getting redder and redder as the three of them had been jabbering. He began his move just as Ian supplied the answer.
Owen Baker shoved Davidson out of the way and aimed his gun, a Beretta, at Ian.
“Failure to ensure the safety on his gun was in the off position.”
Baker pulled the trigger. Or rather, he tried to pull the trigger. It didn’t work, of course, because the safety was still engaged. Ian kicked out, the toe of his shoe connecting with the man’s wrist, sending his gun flying through the air—and making Baker scream out in pain.
Davidson spun Baker around and cut off his scream when he planted his fist in the man’s face. One punch, hard.
“Well, look at that,” Alice said. “He just folded like a cheap house of cards.”
Davidson looked at her, tilted his head, and winked. “I might have gone with tent,” he said. “He folded like a cheap tent.”
“Should have been suit,” Ken said. “Though his isn’t cheap at all. But the poetry of the word ‘suit’ appeals, all things considered.”
Alice looked down at the unconscious man. His expensive blue suit looked a little worse for wear compared to how it had appeared earlier at the restaurant. The only smart thing he did today was to ditch the hat.
“Hmm,” she said. “Your suggestions have merit. I’ll look it up later and see what the most used expression is. Google should be able to find that information for me.”
“Research.” Ken picked up her hand and kissed it. “I’d say that’s a great way to spend our evening, once we take care of all our business, here.”
The sound of sirens reached them, and Davidson looked at the three of them. “I take it one of you called the cavalry?”
Ian nodded. “Alice did when we pushed her behind us. Mr. Davidson, I’m Ian Kendall, and this is my cousin Ken, and, of course our Alice—Alice Benedict. Sir, I am so sorry you got caught up in this…” He waved his hand at the still unconscious man. “This mess.”
“Don’t be.” He shook first Ken’s, then Alice’s, and then finally Ian’s hand, grinning the entire time. “You can’t be blamed for what that man did—or in this case, tried to do. To tell you the truth, that’s the most excitement I’ve had in a long time.” Then he frowned. “Though my son might be pissed when he hears about it. He’s been nagging at me to have updated security measures in place here. I’ve kind of been waiting for the business to pick up a little so I can afford it.”
“Well, now. Let’s deal with the police and this mess and then have our tour. After, we’ll talk. We may have a suggestion or two that might help you with that.”
They all turned and looked as the state police car screeched to a halt, quickly followed by a cruiser that announced its driver was representing the Lusty, Texas, Sheriff’s Department. Adam fairly bounced out of the car.
Alice recognized the man who got out of the state cop car. She’d met him at Rachel, Brandon, and Trace’s engagement party. He was a friend of Adam’s by the name of Clint Parrish.
“A man with a plan,” Davidson said. “I like that. All right, Ian Kendall. We’ll do all that, and then, we’ll talk.”
* * * *
Several hours later, Ian helped
