Spooning Leads to Forking (Hot in the Kitchen #2) - Kilby Blades Page 0,99
fuck do you know how to do?”
“This meeting is over,” the attorney-type said, pushing his chair back a little as if to stand. He glared up and behind his shoulder as he did. Brody was still glaring down.
“No middlemen,” Dev continued. “We need a meeting with the final decision maker within twenty-four hours.”
“You just put the final decision-maker in jail,” the stony-faced one growled.
Dev smirked. “Then you all are in worse trouble than I thought if that’s whose making your decisions.”
“Don Jr. is no longer in charge of this operation,” boomed an authoritative voice from the door.
“I’m sorry—” Cliff looked as irritated as ever. “But who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Donovan Packard. And this used to be my office.”
The room around him might have fallen silent. Dev honestly didn’t know. Something happened in that moment to bend reality and slow time. Never—not once in his life—had Dev ever looked at a person and felt he was looking in the mirror. The man had cut into the circle on the opposite side of Dev and they stood facing each other, head-on. Staring at Don Packard felt like getting a sneak preview of his future self.
He stood a few inches over six feet—the exact same height as Dev. His hair was salt and pepper with a lot more pepper than salt. He was long and lean, like Dev—and clearly fit. Dev had been told many times that his green eyes were bright; until that moment, he’d never appreciated what that comment meant.
Another thing: despite how Don Jr. had made it sound in his conversation with Shea, the man hardly looked frail or ailing. Donovan Packard Sr. looked to be the picture of health, whatever the sixty-year-old version of that was. All of his adult life, Dev had worried about his mother’s shitty genetics. It was a gift unto itself to find the man so well-preserved.
“My son defied my orders.” All the while, Don Sr.’s eyes remained on Dev’s. Something in Dev’s stomach flipped to hear the man talk about his son. Clearly, Senior was referring to Junior. But the way Senior looked at Dev caused Dev to believe the man knew who he was.
“Don Jr. was supposed to be running the mills—not running them into the ground. Any transactions he told you about pertaining to the redevelopment of any of our holdings are completely unauthorized.”
By then, he had broken Dev’s gaze and looked around to the other players in the room.
“My attorney in Denver notified me of several things my son did not. I’m here to unravel all of this.”
When he mentioned his attorney in Denver, he jutted his chin toward the man who had walked in behind him—one William Hewitt, who Dev recognized from having seen his picture on the web page for the Law Offices of Hewitt & Hewitt. William Hewitt was the same attorney Dev had appealed to, to help Sapling out of this predicament—the one Trudy connected him to, who had been helping the town for years. William Hewitt was part of the puzzle—the executor of Donovan Packard’s promise to his mother that he would protect the town.
Dev wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Cliff look so surprised, though that look was replaced in short order by a hint of excitement. “That’s more like it,” he praised, not sparing another glance at the Don Jr.’s lackeys. “Where do we start?”
Donovan Packard’s gaze swung back to Dev. “With the head of your Economic Development Council—the one who made contact with my attorney. If you’d all be so kind to clear the room, I’d like to speak with Devon Kingston, alone.”
“Do you know who I am?” Donovan Packard asked only after they were the only ones left in the office. He still stood next to the table and his hands were on his hips. With fewer people crowding the room, Dev was still in awe of all the things that looked the same. From the loose waves of his hair, to the slant of his nose to his sun-kissed skin, to his very physique, the man was a facsimile of Dev.
“I found out yesterday, right about this time.” It was hard for Dev to wrap his head around the past twenty-four hours.
“Who told you?” Don wanted to know.
“Trudy,” Dev revealed. “Then a DNA test—a comparison of samples from me and Don Jr. from the crime scenes.”
When Donovan Sr. didn’t say anything more, Dev asked what had to be asked: “How long have you known?”