Page 67 of Betrayal In Calusa Cove
“Well,” Hayes said, clapping Fletcher on the shoulder. “That went better and faster than expected.”
Keaton nodded toward Decker, who emerged from the building with the help of Pete. “He stuck the landing,” Keaton said. “The plans he drew up for us and all the permitting he handled really made the difference.
“Yeah,” Fletcher muttered. “They’re nothing short of amazing. I really like them.”
“Agreed.” Dawson crossed his arms. “Decker plays like he’s going forward with the development. We let the word slip to John. The Barbaros will think they’ve lost control of the land and that Decker turned on them.”
“And Baily?” Keaton asked. “Her payment is due today.”
Fletcher exhaled. “She doesn’t pay a dime. Not with what Enzo uncovered. I’m sure by tomorrow, they’ll show their hand by calling in that loan. In the meantime, she and I will continue to go through boxes, hoping to find something.”
Hayes looked out toward the dark horizon. “This town’s been through enough. Let’s finish this.”
Fletcher nodded. “Time to bring this fight to us and do it our way.”
Chapter 17
The marina office smelled like sun-bleached paper, diesel fumes, and worry.
Baily sat at her desk, trying to pretend she wasn’t counting the minutes to the end of the day. The morning had started off deceptively quiet—no suspicious boats, no broken equipment, no late-night fuel thefts. Just a stack of invoices, an overworked coffee pot, and a new knot in her stomach that she couldn’t untangle.
For the first time since her father had passed, she’d missed a payment. Not once had she been late with that damn loan. Sure, she’d postponed things like the mortgage, but she knew the lender at the bank. Known him her entire life. She could call him on the phone, make a deal for a partial payment, and he’d get off her back for a day or two. She’d take a hit with a late fee for her phone. She’d worked out deals with other business associates because they knew at the end of the day, Baily would always hold up her end of the bargain.
However, because she had no idea who owned that loan, she’d never once messed with it. Never once taken a chance.
The only good news had been that Fletcher and the boys had won the bid for the Crab Shack. That was something. However, she knew that would trigger a chain reaction with the Barbaros. They’d wanted that land, and they’d lost. Worse, they’d been betrayed.
By Decker. By John.
But she’d been betrayed by her own brother. That was worse. Fletcher kept telling her that maybe Ken had been stuck between a rock and a hard place. Maybe there was something they all didn’t know. Fletcher was so caught up in the idea that he’d been painstakingly going through the rooms of his parents’ house, one by one, searching for anything. He’d become obsessed.
She wasn’t so sure anymore.
She reached for the old ledger she kept as a backup—just in case their digital system failed. Habit, she supposed. Or superstition. She stared at it for a long moment, thinking about the good old days. The days when she hadn’t a care in the world. The days when all that had mattered were sunsets with Fletcher while she’d waited for her parents to fall asleep so she could sneak into Fletcher’s bedroom.
But even those days had been filled with Ken scheming. He’d always been looking for ways to skirt doing his chores around the marina. He’d complained about having to work for free, but the reality had been that their father had paid them in other ways. They’d been able to use the marina boats anytime they hadn’t been rented out, and there had always been at least one readily available.
Money might’ve always been tight, but they hadn’t really wanted for anything. At least she hadn’t. But Ken? He’d wanted the world. He’d always itched for what he didn’t have. A bigger, better boat. A fancy car. Money in his pockets.
Her cell rang. She snatched it up and pressed it against her ear. “Mitchell’s Marina, this is Baily.”
There was a pause, followed by a soft crackle of static, then a man’s voice—sharp, efficient, slightly amused. “Miss Mitchell, this is a courtesy call regarding the pending balance owed on your marina loan.”
Her spine straightened. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her breath hitched. “I’ve already submitted documentation to the holding company. We’ve initiated a dispute?—”
The man cut her off from her well-rehearsed speech that Enzo had given her and that she’d practiced with Fletcher all morning. “You’re in default. Payment was due yesterday, and if you read the fine print, there is no grace period. As of the close of business today, you owe the entire balance in full. If you do not make this payment, the deed to the marina belongs to the holding company.”
Her fingers tightened around the receiver. “I’ve spoken to a lawyer, and that’s not legal.”
The man laughed. “Our contracts are legal, standard, your father signed it, and you’ve been paying. The law is on our side, so if you want to keep your marina, you’ll make that payment. Otherwise, you’re in default and you’ll either have to pay the entire thing or lose it.”
“There’s no signature from me on a default trigger,” she said, voice rising. “And the holding company has been unresponsive to a formal inquiry.”
“Then I suggest you stop wasting time with formalities.” His tone dipped—still smooth, but with a sharp edge now, like glass beneath silk. “You pay, or you forfeit the marina. Simple.”
“I—who the hell are you?” she snapped. “What company do you represent?”
“You don’t need my name. You need cash.” Another pause. “And maybe a little common sense. Your place? It’s not worth the trouble you’re courting. Walk away while you still have a choice.”
