Boone nodded.
“So, you know she was first in line to talk to the lawyer who wanted to file a class action suit,” JD said.
“I spoke to him too.” Boone would like nothing more than to prove his ex-wife was a criminal. He couldn’t care less if that meant it put him in a questionable situation. What she did killed people. “I gave him all my old research, but it wasn’t enough to prove there was a correlation between the ingredients in the supplement and the deaths of those elderly who took them.”
“Didn’t you create that supplement?” JD asked.
Boone took a long drag of his cigar, savoring the thick smoke before letting it bellow out between his lips. He stared out into the back alley at a cat who slinked behind the dumpster, looking for a treat. “That was Rylee’s baby. I had nothing to do with that market.” Boone sipped his drink. The scotch burned his stomach. “When I created that company, I let her do her thing, believing she’d go about it the right way while I focused on finding treatments and cures for illnesses like what my mom had. But I soon realized what a bitch my ex-wife was, and I did the only thing I could. I left. And because she hired her own team and changed a lot of the chemical compounds, the information I had was dated. Either way, the supplement business is tricky and unregulated. She had all the proper labels and warnings,” Boone said. “But we’re digressing from the topic.” He swirled the light-brown drink before taking a huge swig. “Paget can’t know who I am, and she can’t know I bought her land. Not now and maybe never.”
“If she ever finds out, she’ll never forgive you for lying to her,” JB said.
“We’re barely friends, so it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
JD dropped his hands to his lap and leaned forward. “Barely? We were under the impression the two of you were tight. Maybe even involved.”
“She’s a sweet girl and her father’s an amazing man. I care about them, but we’re just neighbors and friends. But because of what happened, and the fact I have the financial means to take care of this for her, I want to do it. But I need to know she won’t find out from either of you, or anyone else in your family.”
JB inched closer, holding out his hand. “You have our word,” he said. “For the record, I think you’re making a mistake not telling Paget the truth. The only person she blames for her mother’s death is your ex-wife and the people she had working for her. Paget knew William Bone left.”
“I’m well aware,” Boone said. “I’m also painfully aware of the fact that Paget believes I’m a coward, along with a few other superlatives she’s used when discussing my past life.” He took one last puff from his cigar before putting it out and closing the window. “But I didn’t change my name or create a canopy of shell companies to protect my identity because I wanted to hide. I did it because I wanted to do something good with my father’s money, and I wanted to do it without being under a microscope. If you two out me with Paget, you also out me with all the not-for-profit companies and charities I work with along with the treatments my medical foundation is working on. I’m not hiding because I’m ashamed. I’m doing it because I actually want to make a difference, and it’s easy to do so when I don’t have the world questioning my every move.” Boone didn’t owe them, or anyone else, an explanation. However, JB and JD were good people, and they had Paget’s best interests at heart.
“You don’t have to explain to us,” JD said. “Just don’t fuck over Paget and we’ll be good.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Boone shook JD and then JB’s hand. “I’m going to do whatever it takes to make sure her and her father don’t have anything to concern themselves with in the future.”
“Good to know,” JB said, tipping his cowboy hat. “Let’s make sure we all keep in touch.”
“We’ll see ourselves out.” JD stepped out of the office and took the turn into the hallway and down the stairs.
Boone took a few moments to collect himself while he sent a message down to his kitchen, asking for a take-out order. He’d taken a big risk by letting both JB and JD in on his little secret.
But what scared him more was how quickly JB had put it all together. If he’d been able to do that, then others might be able to as well, and that would be bad. He would have to make sure he kept his head down and out of the public eye. That should be easy enough to do. He’d spent a small fortune to make sure no one could connect his name to the medical foundation. Nor could anyone be able to find a paper trail from William Bone to Boone Wilder.
He pulled up Paget’s contact information on his cell.
Boone: I’ll be over at about 8:15. Is that okay?
Paget: I’m just getting into my car now. I should get to my dad’s house at about that time. Thanks.
Boone: See you then.
He stuffed his phone into his back pocket. He could never bring her mother back. He couldn’t change the past.
But he could make the best of the future, and that’s what he planned on doing, even if that meant he’d lose Paget forever.
Paget rolled her rusty old Jeep to a stop in the driveway. She tried to keep from smiling as she waved to Boone sitting on one of the rockers on the front porch. She didn’t want to feel so at ease in his presence. She resented how much she looked forward to seeing him, and she certainly didn’t like how her body heated up like a damn oven ready to bake some fresh gooey cookies that would no doubt melt in her mouth.
“Traffic was a nightmare,” she said as she made her way up the five steps.
“No worries. I literally just got here five minutes ago.” He lifted a metal cup and tossed a few ice cubes in it before putting the top on it and giving it a good shake. He poured it into a glass. “You might as well dig into that burger and fries.” He handed her a pink drink. “And I have the mixings for three more whiskey sours.”
“Oh, my God.” She swallowed a large gulp of the drink. “No one makes this cocktail like you do.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He ripped open the take-out trays. “How’s your dad today?” Boone handed her one of the baskets. He set the other one on his lap while he took out a beer from the small cooler he’d brought over from the bar.
“He’s doing well enough. He’s using the chalkboard to communicate, but he still gets frustrated and angry and lashes out.” She dunked a fry into some ketchup and plopped it into her mouth. Letting out a long sigh, she blinked. “He tossed the television remote at a nurse today because he was trying to tell her the batteries had died, but he couldn’t get the words out.”
“Where was his writing material?”
“On the bed, right next to him,” she said. “He just wanted to say the words, but he’s still really struggling outside of therapy.”
“It’s going to take time.”
“Try telling him that.” She nodded, chewing on her burger. “He thinks because he’s been there for the whole weekend he should be better by now.” She wiped her lips with her napkin. “I heard from my real estate agent, and I got an offer on my cabin.”