“My mother sure did,” I reply.
His hands find my waist, turning me to face him, intensity radiating off him. “What kind of secrets, Faith?”
“Her kind of secrets,” I reply, not sure why he is suddenly so very intense. “Like you have secrets,” I add, using his nickname, “Tiger.”
“My enemies call me Tiger. You call me Nick.”
“Why do I keep feeling like you’re my enemy?”
“Why are you looking for an enemy?”
I return to the present and ask myself that very question: Why am I looking for an enemy?Am I looking for an enemy? And if so who is it that I don’t trust? Nick? Abel? It has to be Abel. I’ve already established that I trust Nick. And he’s earned that trust. He wouldn’t lie to me. He wouldn’t deceive me. And if he trusts Abel, I trust Abel.
So why am I still so uneasy?
CHAPTER TEN
Nick
Seconds tick by as Faith stares down at the documents Abel has given her, no words, no action, but I sense that wall of hers slamming into place. “Let us have a few minutes,” I order Abel.
“No,” Faith says quickly. “I have questions.”
“As you should,” Abel says. “We can go through every line of the documents one by one.”
“I’ll read them myself,” she says. “These questions are not questions that these documents can answer.” She looks between us. “For starters, I want to verify that we’re all on the same page that I believe us to be on. That being that the bank would not be ordering a property assessment if they didn’t believe it would somehow allow them to stake a claim on the deed. Correct?”
“Correct,” Abel confirms.
“That’s the assumption we’re operating under,” I add. “And while my preferred method of operation is not to assume anything, winning is about being a step ahead of our opposition. Which is also why I called my personal banker today and have him on standby to buy out your note.”
Her eyes go wide. “At what cost to you?”
“Nothing outside of paying for a rushed property assessment of our own.”
“We can’t use the current one?”
“If my bank finds out your bank is questioning the property value and we don’t disclose that, we’re looking at a fraud situation.”
“Right,” she says. “That makes sense.” She moves on. “And if that assessment comes back under the value of the current note?” she asks. “Can we use the revenue the winery produces to justify the new note? I have that well documented.”
“We not only can,” I say, “we will. But set that aside and let’s talk about the worst case scenario: My banker makes an offer and they decline.”
Her brow furrows. “Why would they do that?”
“That’s our question,” Abel says. “What do they know that we don’t beyond any piece of paper.”
Faith gives him a puzzled look. “I don’t follow where you’re going with this.”
“Where’s the money?” I supply. “What makes the winery or something connected to it worth money outside the obvious? Do you have any idea?”
She shakes her head. “None. And by none I meant that I’m a complete zero on this entire premise. That said, if that were true, if there is some hidden treasure, be it literal or not, the bank will fight hard, and that doesn’t bode well for the outcome we’re after. Which brings me to another question.” She picks up the dummy document and focuses on me. “If you present this, and the bank legally claims the winery, are you left with any liability?”
“No,” I say. “I am not.”
“Okay,” she says. “Then can you use that dummy document to force them to pay you back the money you paid on not just my behalf, but that of the winery.”
“I’d demand they compensate both myself and you,” I reply. “and for all the monies paid on behalf of the rightful owner of the winery. And because under that treasure scenario, the bank would just want us to go away, I believe they’d settle with us. But we’re a long way from that point.”