Lovely, Dark, and Deep (The Collectors) by Susannah Sandlin

Author:Susannah Sandlin [Sandlin, Susannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2013-12-30T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Shane swore the temperature dropped at least ten degrees when Hurricane Gillian blew out of the dining room. A chill silence settled in. He didn’t know what to say to keep the conversation with Charlie going. He’d apologized for being an idiot ten years ago and said a silent prayer of thanks that Gillian hadn’t asked what happened between them.

No, he’d just let her ride to his rescue while he sat here with his foot up his ass so far it had his tongue pinned down. She’d very succinctly told Charlie all he needed to know without too many details. Shane was horrified that Tex had been in Charlie’s house, had threatened a crippled old man, but he didn’t know what to do about it.

He pretended to examine his splinter cut while taking a closer look at his uncle. He’d been so shocked at Charlie’s missing leg, he hadn’t registered that Charlie, like the house itself, seemed so much smaller than he remembered, his torso lost inside a green plaid shirt that billowed around him like a sail. His uncle still had the booming voice and the intimidating stare and the rough edges, but his hands trembled a little when he reached down to wield his cane like a hammer or pet the dog.

That would be the dog who’d never treated Shane with anything better than benign neglect if not outright hostility, but who had fawned over Charlie from the minute they’d arrived. Hellhound.

“There’s some bourbon in the cabinet over the fridge,” Charlie finally said, as if none of the previous hour had occurred. “You got two good legs. Why don’t you pour us a drink?”

Shane found the bottle, smiling at the black Jack Daniel’s label. Charlie had had more influence on Shane than either of them realized, even down to the choice of poison. He rummaged around in the cabinets until he found a couple of glasses and set them on the table, pouring each of them a couple of fingers of bourbon.

“Need water or ice?” Shane asked.

“Water is for wimps and ice is for goddamned pansies.”

Charlie was nothing if not eloquent. That much hadn’t changed.

He waited until Shane was seated before he cleared his throat. “Tell me what you know about these blackmailers.”

“Not a lot.” Shane went through the story about the money and the blackmailers’ uncanny ability to make things happen quickly. “We figure it has to be somebody in the military or government to move things that fast, not to mention highly placed and rich as God. You used to work the waters off Canada’s east coast. How long would it normally take to get the paperwork cleared to bring in a boat from the US?”

“Let me see the papers.”

Shane walked into the living room and fell over a stack of…something. Forget this paranoid crap; he needed a light. Once he’d felt around for the switch to turn on the lamp, he stepped over the stack of old newspapers that had tripped him and retrieved his suitcase.

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