Chapter 303: A Weapon To Use

“Sir… do you remember me?” William asked. There was an unmistakable warmth in his voice. “You saved my life.”

Alexander glanced at his father.

Judging by James’s expression, he wasn’t sure he remembered William Rathbourne at all. Then again, “You saved my life” was hardly enough to jog his memory. James had saved countless people over the years. There were probably thousands who could say the same.

“Mr. William Rathbourne,” Alexander supplied, stepping forward. “I’m Alexander.”

William’s gaze moved briefly toward him before returning to James.

“I stayed at Alexander’s house last night,” Fitzgerald added, almost as though offering further proof.

James still seemed unable to place them.

Yet William was smiling. Not the careful, calculating smile Fitzgerald knew from boardrooms and negotiations.

A genuine one.

“You truly don’t remember?” William asked, almost amused. “The flash floods in ’98?”

James frowned.

“The ranch roads were practically rivers. My Mercedes got stranded in the middle of it. The electronics were finished, my driver was unconscious after a tree came down, and I had no idea whether we were going to make it through the night.”

A faint glimmer of recognition crossed James’s face.

William continued, his tone growing warmer.

“Then you appeared in a tractor.”

James gave a low chuckle.

“You dragged the car out with a line, sent my driver to the hospital, and insisted I stay at your home until the roads cleared. Your wife—Mary—fed me as though I’d been one of your ranch hands. I ate at your table with your sons.”

James rubbed his jaw.

“I did that? That could’ve been any one of us.” He gave William a pat on the shoulder, almost dismissing the matter. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

“No, sir. It was you.”

William’s voice held such certainty that James finally looked at him properly.

“I remember.” William smiled. “I’ve never forgotten it.”

James studied him for another moment. “Rathbourne, is it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“’98…” James rubbed his forehead, searching his memory. Then his brows lifted. “Ah.”

Alexander’s mouth twitched. James remembered.

“You were the young fellow trying to convince half the county to sell you the northern part of my land.”

William’s smile became slightly sheepish. “I was representing the interests of my family.”

“You were lobbying every politician who’d listen.”

“I may have been somewhat persistent.”

“You were a nuisance.”

William laughed softly. “Fair enough.”

James shook his head. “You gave me plenty of trouble.”

Fitzgerald’s rare smile disappeared. He had been beginning to think there was some charming history between the two families.

Apparently, there was. Just not quite the kind he had imagined.

“And you saved me anyway,” William said. “You let me sleep under your roof and fed me with your family. I would have died that night without you.”

James’s expression softened slightly. “It was what any decent man would have done.”

There was no pride in his voice. To James, the matter had apparently been that simple.

He glanced toward Fitzgerald. “And this is your son?”

“Yes, sir. Fitzgerald.”

James stepped toward him and gave his shoulder a firm pat.

“Fine young man.”

Fitzgerald blinked.

“Thank you, sir.”

The hostility Fitzgerald had sensed earlier was gone.

Or perhaps it had never been hostility. It had been avoidance. James simply didn’t want to reopen an old dispute.

Before Fitzgerald could make sense of that, Alexander spoke.

“Cathy brought him home with her, Dad. She invited him to join us at the hunting grounds.”

James’s expression changed immediately. “She did?”

There was genuine surprise in his voice. He looked at Fitzgerald again.

For several seconds, he said nothing. Fitzgerald’s mind began racing.

Was James going to withdraw the invitation?

He couldn’t help thinking of Samantha. If he lost access to the Preston family’s hunting grounds, that could complicate everything.

Then James nodded. “Then he can join us.”

Fitzgerald stared at him.

That was it?

The entire wariness had simply vanished. That meant…

Was Catherine the one with the most power in the Preston family? Good thing she had a good impression of him.

James gave him another pat on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And you too, Billy, if you’re free.”

William Rathbourne smiled. “I’ll make time.”

James chuckled. “Good.”

He turned to leave, but after taking two steps, stopped. “Oh.” He glanced back. “Do you know any good puppy breeders?”

Everyone looked at him.

“I’ve been thinking of getting a Borzoi.”

William raised a brow. “A Borzoi?”

James nodded thoughtfully.

“I’m used to Blue Lacies and livestock guardian dogs. Something tells me a Borzoi isn’t going to be found around the ranches.”

Fitzgerald laughed before he could stop himself. “I’ll arrange it.”

James looked at him. “You know a breeder?”

“I’ll find you one.”

There was an unexpected enthusiasm in Fitzgerald’s voice.

William turned toward his son.

Since when was Fitzgerald this eager to help someone without first calculating what he would get in return?

James smiled. “Good lad.”

Fitzgerald’s expression brightened. “I’ll make sure you get a good one.”

“See that you do.”

James finally turned and walked away.

William watched James disappear down the corridor with a faint smile. Fitzgerald remained beside him for a moment, still staring after the rancher as though he had just witnessed something he couldn’t quite understand.

“Come along,” William said, patting his arm. “We have a meeting with the Director of the FBI. We haven’t the luxury of wasting time.”

Fitzgerald fell into step beside him, his expression turning serious.

They needed to make certain Dorian could no longer use his money and political connections to interfere with the investigation. Evidence was important, but money still moved mountains, and Dorian had spent years making sure he possessed enough of it to move anything he wanted.

Fitzgerald could only hope the others had thought of that as well.

—–

Maximilian found Bobby waiting outside a dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building looked as though it had been abandoned for years, its walls stained by rain and age, several windows broken and boarded over.

Bobby glanced toward him as he approached.

“She’s inside.”

“How is she?” Maximilian asked.

“The elevator doesn’t reach the top floor anymore,” Bobby replied.

“Good.”

Bobby gave him a strange look. “Who exactly is she?”

Maximilian pushed open the rusted metal door.

It creaked as it swung inward.

On the floor, in the dim light, a woman sat curled into herself. She was little more than skin and bones, her clothes hanging loosely from her emaciated frame. Her hair was tangled, and she muttered something under her breath, rocking faintly as though trapped in a world of her own.

Maximilian looked at her without pity.

Once he had learned of Bobby’s connections to the city’s criminal underworld, he had known exactly whom to ask. Sebastian could find almost anyone through legitimate channels, but there were people who disappeared deliberately, people who were hidden in places the law rarely reached. Bobby’s world had its own networks, and those networks had led him here.

Dorian wouldn’t have killed her.

Maximilian knew that much.

Dorian rarely destroyed something useful. If Charlotte possessed even the slightest value to him, he would have kept her alive, locked away somewhere, waiting for the right moment to use her. Charlotte was his wife in the previous life. Dorian had used her then, just as he had destroyed her now.

And now that moment had come for him to use her.

“A dagger,” Maximilian said quietly.

Bobby frowned. “A dagger?”

Maximilian’s gaze remained fixed on the woman.

“A dagger I’m going to use against Dorian.”

He stepped farther into the warehouse, his expression unreadable.

Oh, Charlotte.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

I know exactly how to use you.

Behind him, Bobby slowly followed, beginning to understand that whatever Maximilian had planned, Charlotte’s rescue was only the beginning.

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