Chapter 9Luke dug out his bottle of whiskey, not because he wanted any, but because it looked like Noah needed a shot. The other man accepted it without protest, downing his swallow in a single gulp. Unfortunately, it didn’t do anything about the lack of color in his cheeks, or the dull exhaustion in his eyes. Noah looked like a man sent on a particularly unsavory errand, and the sooner he completed the task, the happier he would be.
“How did the reading go?”
Noah shrugged. “Got a little bit of money.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
“What about the store? And the house? And his other assets?”
“Joan’s son, Joan’s daughter, Joan.”
“So that’s it?”
“Yep. I’m done.”
Done? Done with what? Luke downed a shot of the whiskey himself. He had a feeling he would need it for this conversation. “Well…tha
