“What can I do for you?” Boone asked.
“Paget informed us that her father will be going into a short-term care facility for a while and during that time she wanted to take on some extra riding lessons and other responsibilities around the ranch so that she could take some time off when her father came home,” JB said.
“We wanted to just give her whatever she needed,” JD said. “But that would have insulted her, and she wouldn’t have taken it anyway.”
“Sounds like Paget.” Boone leaned back in his chair. It had been a real struggle for him to agree to let her work an occasional shift without paying her, all for the sake of trading off hours to take care of her father.
Something he would have done just because he liked the old man.
And he liked Paget.
A lot.
“She’s going to be working a few shifts here,” Boone admitted. He liked the Whiskey family. They were the kind of people his parents would have been like if they were still alive and the kind of humans that Boone aspired to be like. “I wanted to fight her on it, but it’s a battle I won’t win so if giving her a couple of hours a few days a week makes her feel better about me doing odd jobs around the house and sitting with her dad, then so be it.”
“You’re a smart man,” JB said. “Which is why we want you to do us, and Paget, a big favor.” JB pulled piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. “This is Paget’s cabin. She’s listing it quietly tomorrow. If we buy it, she’ll blow a gasket and we can’t have that. We were hoping maybe, if we gave you the money, you could buy it, and then we could all just sell it back to her when she’s ready. We’d set you up with a corporate name so that—”
“Hold it right there.” Boone opened his drawer and pulled out a small bottle of scotch. He poured himself three fingers and took a good swig. He rubbed his aching temple. “You want to set up a shell company and buy her place only to give it back.” Boone shook his head and let out a slight chuckle. “Have you talked to the agent she’s listing the property with today?”
“She tried calling us a half hour ago. We figured we’d call her after this meeting,” JB said.
Boone opened the folder on his desk. “I put in an offer about a half hour before you waltzed into my bar.” He tapped the papers. “I did so under Maverick Medical, LLC, and I put in an escalation clause. There is no way to find out it’s me.”
“And the real estate agent has no idea?” JD picked up the pieces of paper and scanned the contract.
“No. I had the people I employ at Maverick Medical handle the offer.” Boone swallowed the lump in his throat. “And since you’d come here asking for me to do something and to turn around and lie about it to Paget, I can assume this confession is safe with you boys?”
“Who the hell are you, really?” JD set the paperwork back on the desk and folded his arms. “That’s twenty grand more than the asking price.”
“We all know she undervalued that land.” Boone took another swig of his scotch.
“How is it that you have a company where your name, I assume, isn’t anywhere on the documentation?”
Boone didn’t have to tell him the entire truth to be honest enough to curb their curiosity. “I inherited a shit ton of money from my old man who was about the biggest capitalist you could ever meet. He didn’t have a kind bone in his body. He exploited weak companies and then bought them, destroying the very people he proclaimed to try to help. I watched him crush perfect strangers while he slowly destroyed my mother’s heart.” Boone finished off his drink. “My mom died of multiple sclerosis, an incurable, highly untreatable disease, even with medication.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” JB said. “We know what it’s like to lose parents at a young age.”
Boone nodded. “My dad died six years ago. My mom four. But when my dad was alive, he didn’t use a dime of his money to help his wife. Not a single donation went to any charities that she could have benefited from.” Boone would leave out his first company with his ex-wife. No one in Buhl, Idaho, needed to ever find out about his connection with the woman everyone blamed for the loss of at least one hundred lives.
And Boone would have to agree, but try as he might, he couldn’t prove it. Though, he hadn’t totally given up on that front.
“When I got the old man’s money, I decided to create my own foundation, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want it to be tainted or constantly be under the flashes of the paparazzi wanting an interview from the trust fund kid.” That part wasn’t that much of a lie, especially considering when he’d first started his medical research company with his ex-wife, the media had tried to eat him alive.
This time he did it quietly and with the right backers and the right scientist. The kind of people who really wanted to make a difference in the world.
Not a name for themselves.
“Holy fuck. You’re William Bone,” JB muttered as he bolted to a standing position. “I knew there was something familiar about you.”
Boone flattened his hands on the desk. The air in his lungs escaped in a painful swish. He tried to take in a deep breath, but he couldn’t expand his chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Give yourself a good buzz cut, shave that growth on your face, and put on an expensive Italian suit, and you’re this guy.” JB tapped on his phone and held it up to his brother’s face. “When he first came to town, I thought he looked familiar but I couldn’t place it.”
“Does Paget know?” JD took the cell and glanced between it and Boone.
“You have me mistaken for someone else,” Boone said behind a tight jaw. He did his best to keep his face expressionless, but he struggled with his tone, which had turned dark.
“I don’t think so.” JB took off his Stetson and raked a hand through his hair before picking up the paperwork. “This is a completely different medical research group than the one you used to own. I read somewhere that you sold it to your wife?”
“I have nothing to do with it, or that bitch.” Boone slammed a fist down on the desk. He opened the drawer, pulled out his ashtray and cigar, then refilled his drink before making his way toward the window. He flicked the lock and pushed up the pane. “I hope you don’t mind the nasty habit.”
“Not at all,” JD said as he leaned back in the chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “I wish I could partake, but my wife would kill me.”
“I tried to light up outside the other night, and Cheyenne snapped it in half and grumbled about what a bad influence it would be for Jimmy to see daddy smoking a cigar.”
“She’s right,” JD said.
Boone was grateful for the light banter, but he knew the focus would soon turn back on him, so he might as well take the conversation there himself. “I need your word that what I’m about to tell you stays between us.” Boone lit his cigar and puffed, blowing the smoke out the window. He let out a long breath. “Paget can’t know.”
“If she did, she’d not only make your life miserable, she’d kick your ass.” JB leaned against the desk. “I take it you know how her mother died.”