Her Scream in the Silence (Carly Moore #2) - Denise Grover Swank Page 0,38

a business to run here. Can’t blame a man for lowballin’. Name a price.”

The problem was I hadn’t looked up the value of my car because I’d trusted Wyatt to handle it. Whenever I’d brought up my car, he’d told me there was no hurry and he was looking into finding a buyer. Why hadn’t he told me that Bingham had made an offer? It might be a wreck on wheels, but I was the one who got to decide what to do with it, not him. His silence on the matter only reinforced the fact that I could rely on only one person—me.

I decided to shoot high and negotiate to the middle. “Six thousand.”

With a sly grin, he shook his head. “I never took you for a dreamer, Ms. Moore.”

I was surprised he was following the rules of etiquette I’d set up the night before. But Marco was right—Todd Bingham was wicked smart, and I knew he was playing some long game…but what was his prize?

“I’m just a woman who needs to replace her car.”

“That hunk of junk ain’t worth six grand. Try again.”

“Five.”

Rolling his eyes, he moved closer and leaned his shoulder against one of the posts on the porch, crossing his arms. “It’s obvious you didn’t do any homework on what your car’s worth, so why are you really here?”

Shit. I wasn’t about to play my Lula hand yet, so I pulled out the only other card I had, as much as it killed me to tell this man anything about my personal life. “Because I’m no longer with Wyatt Drummond. I’m using Hank’s car, which doesn’t feel entirely right, so I want to get a new one, which means I need money from the old one. Considering it’s not exactly easy to do internet research in this town, and I’m not speakin’ to the one person who might have that information, I decided to come to the source and muddle my way through.”

His eyes brightened with interest, but not because he looked like he wanted to ask for a place on my dance card, more in a this is information I need kind of way. “Well now, if that’s the case, I think I might be able to help you out.”

“Which case is that?” I asked, partially afraid of the answer.

“Wyatt Drummond is no friend of mine, and if you left him, I’ll be more than happy to help you.”

So many questions sprang to life…which one did I pick? Curiosity got the best of me.

“What makes you think I broke up with him?” I asked in a sassy tone.

He chuckled, his laugh this time sounding slightly genuine. “Hell, anyone can see he’s crazy about you. There’s no way he broke up with you.”

“I never struck you as a romantic, Mr. Bingham.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Not a romantic. An observer. I didn’t get to where I am by bein’ passive like my lazy-ass father. I paid attention to my surroundings. I took advantage of opportunities others missed because they weren’t payin’ attention.”

“And you built this empire,” I said, gesturing toward the junkyard.

Tilting his head to the side, he regarded me with cold eyes. “You lookin’ down your pretty little nose at me and what I built, Ms. Moore?”

“Not at all,” I said. “Despite your humble abode, I suspect you’re quite a wealthy man. You just know the value of a dollar. I heard you inherited this from your father and built it into what it is now.”

“You’ve been askin’ around about me? I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted.” The tone in his voice insinuated he’d already chosen the latter.

“You’re a powerful man, Mr. Bingham. You proved that after Seth died. The sheriff’s department didn’t seek justice for that boy’s murder. You and I did.” Sadly, it was a true statement, although Bingham hadn’t been in it for altruistic reasons. “You and I both know that while everyone thinks Bart Drummond is runnin’ the town, including the man himself, you’ve been yankin’ it out from under him.”

His eyes narrowed as though he was trying to figure out my endgame. I had a point, but I’d taken a meandering path to get there.

“And what’s your point?”

“You said you study people…well, the same is true of me. I see you buildin’ this empire, and I have to wonder what your motivation is. People do things for a reason.”

His body stiffened, and I knew I was now treading on dangerous ground.

“And what do you think motivates me?” he

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