a small time farm owner that much money unless they were expecting something in return. They wanted something from her or her farm.
Trisha wondered if they were involved in the drug trade. Perhaps they wanted her farm to grow illegal drugs. They could use her failing farm as a new site to cultivate new strains of drugs.
Well, the joke would be on them. A local sheriff’s office was a ten minute walk from her farm. Besides, most drugs had a hard time being cultivated north of the equator. For that much money, it would be easier to buy their own land.
She didn’t know what the catch was to this deal. Perhaps they wanted to help them in an armed robbery. The Black Hounds were notorious for their elaborate and often successful robberies and hijackings of vehicles. Perhaps the whole motorcycle manufacturing business was a cover for their less than legal activities.
However, the company was making record profits. While the motorcycle company wasn’t publically traded yet, there had been leaks about their internal financial statements. Their business valuation had practically doubled overnight from that leak. They would make more money manufacturing vehicles than they would from stealing them. It would seem stupid to risk all of that to rob an armored car from a bank.
The amount of money they promised her was ludicrous. She didn’t know what she would do with the money she would have after paying off her debts. Her workers could paid a better wage. She could buy more land and build more farms. Trisha could make the Foxtail Farms even more successful than it had ever been.
She knew that she would listen to whatever Dante Alastair had to offer. The man was interested in her for some reason. Trisha didn’t know whether she would accept or not. She just wanted a way to help her business without betraying the principles thought to her by her parents.
Hopefully, he would keep buying produce from Foxtail Farms regardless of her decision.
“She’s perfect, Lucia!” Dante exclaimed, getting up from his chair. He always found the club president’s seat to be uncomfortable. Patched up bike seats looked more regal than that oversized piece of furniture. However, it was still a part of club history no matter how badly it failed at being a comfortable chair. “She’s a young, hardworking woman with a spotless record. She needs the money.”
“Are you sure we need her?” Lucia asked rhetorically, looking outside the window of their motorcycle club. Trisha Kaplan was due to arrive here at any moment. This was assuming she agreed to meet with them. “I like desperate. I don’t like smart enough to poke holes through your ruse. We need someone we can control.”
Uncle Cass chipped in. “Dumb and docile would be preferable. Think she’ll play hardball with us and hold out for more money?”
Lucia flipped through a stack of papers. “No, the farm probably has a couple of months left. Stiff competition and an untimely water conservation act have cost her a lot of business. The land that it’s on is worth more than the farm itself at this point. There’s just too much debt and insolvency for a rival farm to swoop in and chisel off the name in favor of their own.”
Dante raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even know who she was a day ago and now you’ve already snooped through her finances?”
“I looked at publicly available and legally acceptable documents,” she corrected. “We could pay off her debt to what is a few pennies to us. We could also continue to be a patron to her farm. It could buy us her continued loyalty and silence once this whole ordeal is over. However, I don’t like the part where she started to piece together what you had in plan for her.”
“You sure you don’t want a woman who is more home on a bike than a tractor?” Uncle Cass asked. “You’re trying to sell motorcycles, right?
Matt Christopher, Stephanie Peters