Grumpy Boss by Hamel, B. (best non fiction books to read TXT) 📗

acres of very expensive and very desirable land. As far as I could tell, the guy had no financial connections at all, despite being worth millions.

I parked the car out front of the house next to an old, beat up truck. Millie frowned out the windshield and looked around. “Are you sure this is right?” she asked.

“It’s the biggest house for miles,” I said. “And the GPS says it’s the place.” I killed the engine and got out of the car.

Millie followed. I understood her hesitation: this guy was supposed to be loaded, and while the house itself looked like it cost a few million at least, the truck was a real piece of shit, and there was random farm equipment left to grow rusty and covered in weeds. An old tractor leaned up against a nearby crumbling fence; an ATV was tipped on its side and missing a wheel; several wheelbarrows full of what looked like tiles or bricks were lined up in the grass fifty feet into the nearest field.

“Come on,” I said, and began toward the house, but before I could reach the front porch an incredible blast made me jump and turn toward Millie.

I grabbed her as another blast ripped the air again, and I realized it was gunfire. I cursed and shoved her to the side, toward the old truck, and pinned her against the bed, covering her with my body. I didn’t have time to think—my heart raced in my chest and I felt like I wanted to throw up, but the adrenaline kept me hyper-focused on the moment.

One more gunshot broke the air before I spotted the shooter: a man standing just over the fence line on the opposite side of the driveway, his back to us, the gun pointed away, into the field. He wore jeans, a flannel shirt, and dirty black boots. Smoke curled from a shotgun wedged in his shoulder, and more smoke puffed from a cigar in his teeth. He lowered the weapon and held it up, aiming into the sky, as he blew smoke out and shouted a curse.

“Rees?” Millie asked from beneath me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Shit, it’s okay. He’s not shooting at us. Are you hurt?”

“Fine, just—“ She grunted a little. “You’re kind of heavy.”

I realized with a start that I was crushing her against the bed. I moved back and sucked in a deep breath. I nodded once, not trusting myself to speak again, and paced toward the man. Anger washed through me, and I wanted nothing more than to break that bastard’s nose open on a very hard rock. He scared the fuck out of me, but even worse, scared Millie—and could have hurt her. The mother fucker should never shoot a gun near a house like that, even if he was experienced and wasn’t aiming anywhere near us.

The guy turned with a big grin, and more smoke plumed from his face. He was older, in his sixties, with jet black hair cut short, and a scruffy beard. It was Byron Nave, no doubt in my mind, though a little bit rougher than the picture I had of him back in the office.

“What the hell are you doing?” I called out as I reached the fence.

He tilted his head and took the cigar from between his teeth. “Shooting a god damn bird on my own property. And what the fuck are you doing, stranger?”

“I’m Rees Court,” I said. “We had a meeting. And I show up to you shooting a fucking gun in your front yard.”

“Pheasant,” he said, like that explained shit. “Released them on my land a few years back and the bastards have been multiplying ever since. They walk right up to my house, like I won’t fucking shoot them.” He turned and shouted at the field. “I’ll shoot, you fucking bastards, don’t you god damn tempt me.”

I stared at him and considered turning around. It wasn’t too late—we could drive back to the airport and be home by the morning. This psychopath was more liable to murder us by accident, or even on purpose, than he was to invest in my company.

But I needed his money, and I didn’t have any other leads at the moment, so even though he was holding a gun, and clearly mentally unstable, considering he just yelled at a bunch of birds, I decided to suck it up and press forward.

“Kevin Lane put us in touch,” I said, and gestured at Millie. “This is my assistant.”

“Charmed,” he said, nodding at her. “I was expected you, Mr. Court. Kevin told me to keep a look out.”

“Call me Rees,” I said.

“So long as you call me Byron.” He walked over and leaned against a fence post a few feet away. “I got to admit, I don’t know how you fancy Wall Street types like to do these kinds of deals. Kevin tells me you’re one of the few honest money men in the game.”

“I’m not sure about honest,” I said, taking a breath to calm my jittery nerves. My hands were shaking as I started to come down from the rush. “But if I’m going to fuck you, I’ll at least fuck you to your face and buy you dinner after.”

Byron barked a laugh, throwing his head back. He sucked in some smoke and blew it out before dabbing the cigar out on the post. He tucked the stub in his pocket then shoved a hand at me.

“Welcome to the wild lands, Rees. That bird I shot out there? That’s for dinner tonight.”

I shook his hand. “So long as I’m not going to eat any buckshot.”

“Don’t you worry, boy.” He grinned viciously and squeezed, almost yanking me into the barbed wire fencing. “I know how to clean game.” He stared at me for a long moment then released my hand and turned away. “Y’all go inside, my housekeeper will get you set up. Alba’s a real fucking peach, so you be nice to her. I’ll be