Second Chance Gold (Buck Reilly Adventure Series Book 4) by John Cunningham (tohfa e dulha read online TXT) 📗

a few,” I said, “but they clearly document the pre- and post- hurricane condition of the property. In the latter, much of the land had been scraped—”

“All by hand. We had no heavy equipment in those days. Jerry and I worked tirelessly to clear debris, rocks, even some destroyed buildings to make room for his dreams. It was back-breaking labor.”

“You seem to remember it clearly,” I said.

“Very clearly. I always remember projects I am proud of—and projects where I am not paid.” A fire burned in his eyes. This was a man who had built his business on hard work, starting with him as the sole laborer. “And the Eden Rock is one of the premiere hotels on St. Barths. Of course I am proud to have had a part in its history. Not just with Jerry, but the subsequent owners as well.”

I paused, nodded, and smiled. Time to tack.

“Absolutely, it’s an extraordinarily beautiful property. So if you don’t mind thinking back to the days when you and Jerry were working to clear it, I have an important question for you.”

“Yes?”

“I’m sure you know Jerry is dead?”

“Unfortunate, but not a surprise.”

“And his wife Gisele was badly beaten and hospitalized.”

“I have heard.” He shook his head hard. “But what has this to do with me? It was many years ago that I worked for Jerry.”

I leaned closer so our faces were only a couple of feet apart.

“Several treasure hunters have come to St. Barths looking for gold and silver they believe was buried on the Eden Rock property.”

Henri Antoine jerked back as if I’d slapped him, eyes wide.

“Buried treasure? Ha! Had Jerry only been so lucky! He might have paid me then.”

I paused. “It would have been a nice nest egg to build a construction company with.”

His grabbed the arms of his chair.

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you saying I might have found something and hid it from Jerry—that’s ridiculous and insulting!”

The fury in his eyes pushed me backwards. Truck leaned away from me.

“I think it’s time for you to leave, Monsieur Reilly.” Henri Antoine sprang to his feet, not deterred in the least that I was six inches taller, twenty-years younger, and had Truck with me. There is no greater insult to a man who has built a reputation of integrity than to challenge it.

I held my hands up. “I did not mean to insinuate that, Mr. Antoine, but—”

“But nothing.” His hands were on his hips now, his eyes like lasers into mine. “I’d like you to leave my property.”

“These men I spoke about—the treasure hunters—they are merciless. If I found you, they will too—”

“And I will tell them the same thing. The only thing Jerry Atlas found at the Eden Rock was heartbreak. And me? I learned to demand a substantial deposit up-front.”

As we stepped out of his office, we passed several men standing in the room with Jeanette. They were all burly and none were smiling. Truck led the way out the door, and as we stepped out I turned back to find Henri Antoine on my heels, his eyes still ablaze.

“Thank you for seeing us,” I said. “If two other Americans or two Dominicans come asking questions, please be on your guard. They’re capable of worse than impugning your reputation.”

He crossed his arms and the slow burn of his stare made it clear he had nothing further to say. Truck was already at the Jeep when I turned to walk across the yard.

Antoine did tell us to get off his property, so I assumed he owned all this land. With small residential parcels a fraction of this size selling for millions, this was indeed a valuable piece of property. Could business have been that good in the fifteen-plus years since he worked with Jerry, or had I struck paydirt with my questions?

“You really pissed him off, Reilly.”

“Got to crack a few egos to find the truth.”

Our Jeep labored up the steep hill toward the traffic circle above the airport.

“Just don’t get our heads cracked in the process, okay? I got us a date with two horny British women tonight, they just dying to get back at their ex-husbands.” He slapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s take a break and have some fun.”

Descending the hill from the traffic circle, I glanced to my left and spotted the Beast, the Widgeon still alongside her. I immediately thought of her as Betty, which twisted the knot in my already sour stomach even tighter.

So much for a relaxing research trip to my favorite island in the world.

Truck had a late night with his two British lady friends, but to their chagrin I begged off, needing the quiet of the evening to try and sort out the confluence of disparate details.

I was up early the next morning and itching to get a move on, so rather than waiting for Truck—or dragging him around hung over—I slipped out of the room and took the Jeep into Gustavia. The streets were quiet and the air had a chill since the sun was still low on the horizon. Rather than putting up the top, I cranked the heater and played some loud French music to take my mind off the temperature. I made my way around the harbor, through the small traffic circle, and zigzagged up the one-lane roads to the hospital.

When I got there I found Gisele had been released. Neither her less-than-friendly doctor nor the nurse we’d had to bull past was there, but the woman at the information desk was friendly and helpful.

“Monsieur Atlas paid for her medical expenses over the phone, and her parents picked her up last night.”

“That’s good,” I said. “How did she look?”

The woman’s smile turned to a grimace.

“Still bruised, I’m afraid.” She shook her head slightly. I knew we were both thinking the same thing. Who would beat someone—a widow no less—so brutally, and why? I could think of candidates but not what any of