“I can ask you the same thing,” I said. “Mr. Gambit doesn’t have any women on his crew, so either you’re a squatter or—”
The woman lifted her brow. “How do you know Gambit?”
I shook my head. “You first, lady. Who the hell are you?”
“Libby Slaughter, and you’re in my house.”
I winced. My annoyance quickly turned to embarrassment. This was so not how I wanted to finally meet the owner I was going to sweet-talk into selling me her property.
“I’m sorry. Mr. Gambit and I are friends. He’s actually….” I held out the donuts in a peace offering. “Never mind. Sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
Libby glanced at the donuts. A look of longing filled her eyes. She could afford the calories. She looked like there wasn’t a fat cell on her body.
Her frown deepened, and she met my gaze. “Who are you?”
“Hugh Bennett, one of the Bennett seven. I’m local, but you probably don’t care,” I said and watched as she lowered her pepper spray.
Her lips twisted at the corners. “I don’t remember many locals. My mom and I left when I was five.”
“Right. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“What loss is that? Gambit? Did you run him off?”
“What?” My brows dipped. “I was talking about your grandfather.”
She measured me with a cool appraising look. Libby’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“What do you mean, Gambit ran off?”
“Up and quit,” Libby said, walking past me to the kitchen. She grabbed a glass and poured the green gunk into it, taking a sip. “He claimed the house was trying to kill him.”
I gestured over my shoulder with my thumb. “Is that why he had the sleeping bag and salt?”
Libby’s blush deepened. “No, that wasn’t him. That was me.”
“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but are you moving in or out?”
She sighed. “That’s still up in the air. At the rate of the repairs, I might have to supervise the situation.” She gestured with a sweeping motion, ushering me back toward the door. “Now, it’s nice to meet you and all, but I’ve got a lot to do today. I have to find a new contractor that isn’t scared of ghosts so I can get this house finished and sold.”
“Right.” I tried to hand her the donut box. “Sorry again for the intrusion.”
She pushed the box back in my direction. Aggravation seeped into her face. “No problem. Next time you probably shouldn’t walk into a stranger’s house. You might get shot.”
“The door was open, and Gambit was expecting me.”
“I’m not Gambit, and I’ve got an itchy trigger finger, so maybe next time, you might want to knock, and if no one answers, there’s a good chance that I’m not here.”
I pulled the front door open. The contact from my hand on the knob was all I needed. I glanced over my shoulder. “You might want to see to the hot water heater soon.”
“Why, did Gambit mention it?”
“No, but you’re going to have issues if you don’t.”
“How do you know? Did you sabotage it?”
“Is there a reason you think people are out to get you?”
“No, sorry.” She plastered on a fake smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “What were you saying about the water heater?”
“It’s an old house, and Gambit didn’t make it down to the basement.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of things he didn’t get to. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Bennett, but I really must run.”
“Hugh,” I called out while jogging down the steps and sliding into my truck.
Resting the donut box in the passenger seat, I started the engine and headed back out of the drive, only stopping when I got to the gas station to refill my coffee. I called Gambit to figure out what was really going on.
Ten minutes later, I had the whole story about how the place was haunted and had tried to kill him. It had started with little things like missing tools and a few minor problems and then switched to bigger, more deadly issues like being pushed down a flight of stairs. He claimed he was lucky to get out alive, and then he spent the next five minutes trying to talk me out of buying the place.
That wasn’t happening. I wasn’t afraid of ghosts or whatever might be lingering on the property. I had relatives that could help me get rid of them. What I needed was Libby Slaughter to agree to sell me the property.
4
Hugh
Four hours later, I pulled up right outside Sheriff Clark Weller’s office and waited with my truck running. The evening air had turned frigid, and the rain felt like icy pellets coming down.
Clark held his hat on his head, shielding his face from the rain as he ran toward my truck and climbed inside.
“Thanks for picking me up,” he said, sliding his hat off his head and dropping it to the floorboard.
“This weather turned to crap in a hurry. Your wife must be out of town.” I put the truck in gear and pulled out, turning my windshield wipers on high.
“Mercy went to visit her sisters,” Clark answered. “Be glad I talked her into going there and she didn’t insist that all of your cousins come here because, rumor has it, you’re playing with fire and there is nothing your cousins love more than getting into everyone’s business.”
I grinned. “You must have talked to Clara or Emmett.”
“Something like that,” Clark said as I drove across town and parked in front of the Mountain View Inn, which Clark’s mother owned. The Mountain View Inn was currently the only place in town to get a decent meal, but I had plans to change that.
“Is that why you invited me to dinner with your mom? Are you hoping excellent food will make me change my mind?”
Clark grinned and grabbed his hat off the floorboard. He pulled the door open. “It wasn’t me that invited you. It was my mom.”
Clark's loud laughter followed him out into the rain as he climbed out and jogged beneath the awning, where he smacked the water droplets from his hat while he waited for me.
“Why didn’t you tell me? Is she pissed that I want to open up a lodge? Because I promise it won’t take away from her business,” I grumbled like a child, knowing a reprimand was waiting inside.
“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” Clark said, yanking open the front door and stepping inside. He hung his hat on the coat rack and shimmied out of his raincoat and hung that up too, while I did the same.
“Mom,” Clark called out.
“In the kitchen, dear.” Her soft voice carried down the foyer.
Clark and I headed in that direction. The scent of Italian herbs and spices drifting through the house made my stomach grumble and my mouth water. Mrs. Weller was the best cook in town. I didn’t care why she’d invited me; she could yell at me all night as long as she fed me too.
I passed the dining room, and out of the corner of my eye, I caught the familiar face of their other dinner guest.
Libby Slaughter was leaning against the wall. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was shaking her head as if wishing she hadn’t run into me.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“I was invited.” A long sigh left her lips as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her long blond hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder, nothing like the wet mess it had been earlier that day. “What are you doing here? Breaking in?”
“I see you two met,” Mrs. Weller said as she walked in, carrying a basket full of rolls.
Clark followed behind, carrying a big bowl of salad. Something that none of them ever ate. Mrs. Weller wasn’t known for cooking healthy. Every meal was followed with a dessert of some kind, most likely an apple pie. They set them on the dinner table next to a casserole dish of lasagna.
“Libby, this is my son, Clark. He’s the sheriff in town, and that’s Hugh Bennett. Clark's life-long friend and local good guy. If you ever need a helicopter or charter man, he’s your guy.”
“Nice to meet you both,�
�� she said.
Mrs. Weller glanced at me and lifted a brow. “Hugh, why don’t you get Libby’s chair.”
“Right, sorry, where are my manners?” I said, sliding the chair out for Libby to sit. Mrs. Weller pointed to the one next to Libby for me to take. If she were playing matchmaker, this had disaster written all over it.
Libby smiled and took her seat before I sat in the one next to her.
Mrs. Weller dished out plates. She handed Libby a large salad and didn’t even attempt to give any to Weller and me, just added extra helpings of the homemade lasagna.
“I’m sure you’re both wondering why I brought you here.”
I glanced at Libby, who seemed just as surprised. I opened my mouth and then snapped it closed before I guessed something that would get me in trouble.
“Actually, you said you invite all the town residents over,” Libby said. Her smile momentarily wavered until she cleared her throat.
“Yes, well.” Mrs. Weller filled a little plate of lasagna and placed it in front of Libby. “You were both born in this town, so that’s true, but the primary reason I’ve invited you both is so that each of you knows where I stand on a few things.”
Libby clasped her fingers in her lap. “And what might that be?”
“You’re experiencing fog, are you not?” Mrs. Weller asked.
“I think we both know that Libby isn’t responsible for bringing the weather to town,” I said, unsure where this was going.
Libby’s stare didn’t waver off of Mrs. Weller, as if she were trying to read the older woman’s mind.
Mrs. Weller was the first to turn her gaze on me. “And even though you believe that structure has a solid foundation and you want to buy Slaughter House, there are secrets still left to be discovered before you should ever make your first reservation.”
Libby’s gaze whipped in my direction. Her brows dipped. “You want to buy Slaughter House?”
“Yes. The secret is apparently out. I want to open a ski lodge on this side of the mountain.”
“And what does she mean about the foundation?”
I put the napkin on my lap and picked up my fork. “What did she mean about the fog?”
She huffed and grabbed her fork, stabbing the lettuce with a bit more zest.
“Each of you needs something the other can provide,” Mrs. Weller continued. “Libby can help with the ghosts haunting the property, since most are probably her relatives. And Hugh, you can help point out all the problems in the lodge, like you do for all those other people who pay for your services. You can also make sure everything gets fixed. It’s an added bonus that you’re local and know everyone in town. You can help Libby contract the right people to get the job done, only might I suggest that both of you be present for the renovations. You know, in case there are any issues.”
“That’s all fine and dandy, Mom, but Hugh has a company. He has flights. He can’t just drop everything to go help Libby. No offense, Ms. Slaughter.”
Mrs. Weller picked up her own fork and sliced into her lasagna with finesse. If anything, she looked pleased with her decisions to bring us together.
“He will if it means achieving his dream. Won’t you, dear?”
That was the question. What was I willing to do, or rather put up with, if it meant getting Slaughter House? Did I care that I hardly knew Libby?
“Assuming Libby’s trigger finger turns less itchy, I’d consider it, but only if she lets me put a bid in on the place.”
The bell above the front door chimed, announcing someone walking into the B&B.
“You expecting reservations, Mom?”
“Not for another hour, dear,” she said, standing. She left the table and returned minutes later with two men in tow.
“Uh, Libby, are these two men here for the reservations you made earlier? They say they’re here to see you.”
“I guess I’m not that foggy after all.” Libby smiled and put the napkin on the table as she stood. “If you’ll excuse me.”
I rose with her, as did Clark, only retaking our seats as Libby gestured toward the others. “Mrs. Weller, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll show them up to their rooms.”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Weller sat back down with a frown marring her lips. It was evident she wasn’t happy about these new people.
“Who was that, Mom?”
“That was Dwight Slaughter, her cousin.”
“That was Dinky?” Clark asked, glancing over his shoulder where he’d once stood.
“Yep.” She tsked and met my gaze. “I was hoping you’d be quicker on the draw. Now that he’s here, there might not be any chance of salvaging the deal.”
I took a bite of the lasagna and swallowed it. “Why is that?”
“The other man is Dinky’s business acquaintance, and he’s interested in the property.”
“How could you possibly know that?” Clark finally asked, resting his elbows on the table.
“A Bennett birdie warned me that if the developer gets his hands on the mountain, then nothing will ever be the same again.”
“Sounds like the same birdie that warned me that we shouldn’t let any more outsiders in.”
Damn. My appetite vanished into a dark pit, much like my hopes and dreams for the property.
5
Libby
I swiped the room keys off the reception desk as we passed the check-in counter and handed Dinky the electronic card keys to each room. He shoved one into the card reader lock and opened one of the doors.
The man with Dinky walked in and glanced around the room. Dark furniture was placed around the room. The paintings on the wall weren’t store bought but looked like originals that should be in a gallery. They were stunning, even if the rest of the room was in need of a bit of TLC. It was a warm room and inviting, kind of like visiting a long-distant relative.
“Rustic,” he said, sliding out of his black trench coat. “They won’t be much competition.”
Rudeness. I rested my hands on my hips.
“Henry Johnson, I’d like you to meet my cousin and current owner of Slaughter House, Libby Slaughter.”
“It’s a pleasure,” Johnson said, extending his hand. He had a gold ring on each finger. Hhis watch alone looked like it could pay for Slaughter House. An age-old large jagged scar marred his palm. His look screamed he wasn’t the type of guy to piss off.
I should have pressed for how Dinky knew this guy. I didn’t try to push Dinky on his affairs, not since the last time I had to bail him out with his bookie. He’d promised to stay away from the casino tables, but this guy. He looked like nothing but trouble.
Dinky always was working an angle and hunting investors for his next big idea. None of which really panned out, but he tried. I’d offered advice once to help him get a leg up, but he didn’t take it. He said he didn’t need it, but it was more like it was his pride doing the talking.
I took Johnson’s hand. His large smooth fingers engulfed mine. Instead of shaking, he lifted my hand to his lips and placed a kiss. “Dwight didn’t mention you were beautiful.”
“Uh…thanks.” I slipped my hand free and inconspicuously wiped the kiss on my jeans. “Din… Dwight, if I can have a word with you?”
“Get settled, Mr. Johnson. In the morning, I’ll drive you up to the property so you can take a look around,” Dinky said, heading for the door.
“It’s going to have to be early. I have a matter to handle on the other side of the mountain.”
“One look at Slaughter House and the land surrounding it, and there won’t be any need to go see the other property.”
Mr. Johnson lifted his brow and unhooked his cuff link. He didn’t look convinced. “I guess we’ll see about that.”
I stepped out into the hallway and waited for Dinky to shut the door before using the key for the room that was two doors down. I stepped in behind him as he carted an overnight bag inside and dumped it onto the dresser.
“You mentioned you needed
two rooms, but you didn’t say you had a buyer.” I squawked just as the door closed.
Dinky put his finger over his lips. “Keep it down. These walls are thin, and I don’t want you to scare him off before I get him on the hook.”
“So, he’s interested?” My heart raced in enthusiasm. The possibility of finally getting rid of the family home was getting closer.
“Libby, Mr. Johnson isn’t a guy we want to screw over. He’s rich, and he’s got connections. He’s the kind of guy you want on your side, so make sure there’s nothing weird going on when we get there.”
Weird. That was an understatement. Dinky knew about my ghost issues, and he also knew about my premonitions. “The ghosts are still there, and it’s not like they’ll listen to me when I tell them not to scare Johnson away. Maybe you should warn him just in case.”
“No.” Dinky’s eyes widened. “No way am I telling him that Slaughter House is haunted. I’ve already told him about the deaths just to make sure it wouldn’t be a deal-breaker, but…just no.”
“It’s okay. You’re right.” I headed for the door. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”
“Be ready.”
I’d opened the door and stepped out into the hall when Dinky called my name. “Libby.”
I looked back. “Yeah.”
The stress lines on his face softened. “It’s really good to see you again.”
“You too, Dink. It’s been way too long.”
“We’ll celebrate when that place sells and we can finally cut all those ties to see if it breaks the curse.”
When my mom and aunt ran, they’d taken both Dinky and me with them. Even though the curse seemed to only plague the Slaughter women, Dinky had felt the repercussions. His mom had died just like mine. We had that in common.
I jogged down the stairs and was heading toward the door when I spotted Hugh standing at the floor-to-ceiling window in the den. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he stared out the big picture window. I stepped inside.
Destined Chaos Page 3
