Page 48 of Claim Me
Not chump change by anyone’s standards.
The date and time of the arrival was also listed. I checked my watch. Two weeks. Interesting. In addition, I’d found out why Charlie was so pissed, doing what he could to keep her safe.
He’d copied several emails between his father, Jameson and Vladimir Popov. It would appear Jameson had gone to Popov for the loan for the renovations after various banks had turned himdown. Up to that point, the resort and casino had showed weak profits.
But I had a bad feeling that refused to leave that Jameson had been in debt to the Russian Bratva Pakhan for another reason. What that was I’d yet to discover. Perhaps it was of no consequence given Jameson and his wife were dead. Now I affirmed what Charlie had believed all along. They had been murdered.
Mikhail snorted. “I’m no mechanic, but in looking at the original police report, I can see no reason the car ran off the road. The official report states another driver was to blame, perhaps an almost hit and run forced the vehicle the Valentines were driving off the road.”
“But you think otherwise.” The other emails during the course of two months became more threatening. First, Popov wanted a stake in the resort. He’d provided the money, ten million. The interest was hefty and since Marengo had yet to show additional profit even while remaining open during the renovation, he hadn’t been able to scrape up enough money to keep Popov satisfied.
“I do. I have good reason to.”
“And what’s that?” My curiosity was piqued. After Jameson refused, there was a break in email activity. I had a feeling Popov had resorted to either phone calls or personal meetings to handle business. But there was an email that kept me on edge, the anger breaching the surface.
Popov had made threats that collateral would be taken.
The anger deep within me was exploding. Why would he consider something like that? Was he so desperate?
“What is the name of the detective assigned to Charles’ murder?”
“Ryan Torres.”
His laugh brought another moment of anger. “Let me guess. Torres investigated the Valentines’ accident.” Having a private meeting with the detective was the next thing on my agenda. With news of Charles’ death, Popov would be chomping at the bit to get his hands on the resort. Given the information I’d read, if I had to guess, I’d say the Russian prick would use the resort as a cover not only for money laundering, but for bringing in potential clients.
From the pictures of the resort, not only was it perfectly nestled in one hundred acres of prime real estate, but the area was also protected, a location that could be kept highly secured for very exclusive meetings.
And perhaps it was the perfect location to store a shipment of weapons coming in from the port.
“Bingo, brother. At Charles’ insistence. He pushed hard enough that even after the case had indicated a tragic accident, Charles had insisted he had evidence to prove otherwise. From what I can tell, he knew the chief of police, who then assigned Torres to investigate.”
“And of course the good detective came to the same conclusion as before.” I hissed under my breath.
“You bet. Charles even tried to get the press involved, alluding to some pretty interesting accusations involving the police department and the Popov Empire.”
Charlie had never learned his limitations and couldn’t care less about danger. I’d warned him more than once he could gethimself killed. But he was balls to the walls with everything he did.
While I admired his convictions, he obviously hadn’t understood how dangerous Popov could be until much later. The final email was a threat that Charlie had received only the day before his death.
The words were chilling.
Pust’ tvoya dusha nikogda ne naydet pokoya v adu.
May your soul never find rest in hell.
In Russian. Whether or not Charlie had made the translation was of no consequence. At that moment, I was thankful my parents had insisted their children learn Russian. I’d taken up residence in her small office, hoping she’d remain asleep for another hour or so.
“You need to know something else,” I admitted. “The majority share of the casino was left to me.” There was my expansion report for the board. Christ. The realization that just dealing with the casino would be taxing was something else to contend with.
“You’re kidding?”
“No, I am not and Popov wants his share, money lent for the renovations.”
“How much?”
“Ten million and change. No way Mr. Valentine could pay given the exorbitant interest.”
“Whoa,” Mikhail exhaled. “No wonder Popov ordered several assassinations. Why the hell did he go to a fucking Russian.”
