“I couldn’t tell you the last time I sat in the sand.”
“Hard to sand sit when you’re playing millionaire.”
He laughed.
“Sorry, billionaire.” It was hard to wrap her head around his net worth. Money had never been a primary need in her life . . . but then again, she’d always had it. She’d read his portfolio . . . knew he’d made the majority of his worth on his own.
“One more zero.”
“Two more. I crunched the numbers myself.”
Hunter rolled onto his side, caught the side of his face in a sandy hand, and stared with amusement on his lips. “What numbers were those?”
“We can start with the Carlton takeover. The most profitable project to date.” The soft grin on his face slid. “Sam suggested I dig a little deeper into that one. Seems there was much more to Blackwell Enterprises’ merger with Carlton Ammunitions than what sat on the surface.”
His eyes drifted to the sand, where she noticed him drawing circles with his nearly dry fingers.
“I was fresh out of college when we merged with Carlton.”
“Merged and then imploded.”
“I didn’t implode.”
No, he halted sales of ammunition to many retail chains, and then manufactured and sold, nearly exclusively, to the government. Carlton held the majority of stock in the company to domestic sales. Only the government needed ammo. And the company took contracts from the US of A, and domestic sales hit an all-time millennium bottom. Within two years, Blackwell bought out Carlton completely.
“Carlton knew the risk. He didn’t wager using his brain.”
“If not his brain . . . what?” She honestly wanted to know. From the outside, it appeared Hunter knew the government contracts were coming and pounced on Carlton when sales were low.
“He never wagered on the people losing their desire to own weapons. By the time the people made a run for ammo . . . there wasn’t anything available for them to buy.”
“Because of your contracts with the government.” It made sense now.
“Blackwell isn’t the only ammunition manufacturer.”
His defensive tone made her pause. “No. I suppose you’re not.”
He frowned, kept drawing circles. Some took the shape of bullets.
“Do you sell to offshore buyers?”
He shrugged. “I’m not in daily contact with Blackwell/Carlton Ammunitions.”
Translation . . . yes.
“Doesn’t that bother you?”
He set his hand in the sand and caught her gaze. “Does your brother offer a vacation destination exclusively to Americans? Italians?”
Her jaw dropped, and she promptly closed it.
“It’s business, Gabi. Toyota sells to America, McDonalds sells in India.”
“We’re not talking cars and burgers. We’re talking bullets.”
“If the country is an ally, what’s the problem?”
Alonzo popped into her head. As much as she’d love to forget the man, she couldn’t. “An ally today can be an enemy tomorrow.”
He paused, waited for her to look his way. “I don’t know the future of our world affairs any more than you do.”
That was fair . . . she supposed. “You still managed the merger right as the political winds shifted.”
“I read the papers. Carlton didn’t. Sue me.”
“You rolled your millions like dice on a craps table. Pulled out of real estate months before the crash. You took less than a five percent hit with the stock market crash.”
He smiled. “Four point—”
“Six two . . . I know.” Down to the penny, she thought. “You were up two point eight in eleven months. While everyone else was trying to keep their companies from capsizing, you thrived.” She’d be impressed if she didn’t wonder how. The numbers were there. What she couldn’t find was all the backing behind them. Many folders were simple headings of names of countries and companies in languages she didn’t know.
Her mind shifted, thinking in numbers. “You have offshore accounts.” It wasn’t a question.
“I have a branch in London.”
“Not London.” She waved in his direction, her head ticking. “Of course. That would make sense.” Money converted from more than two currencies lost weight by the time it met the US. Yeah, the government wanted its share. But how much could Blackwell hide before Uncle Sam caught on?
Too bad Gabi hadn’t followed this train of thought before meeting with Hunter the first time. Then again, what did it matter? He still had something on her.
She’d be better off working on her own offshore accounts. The ones she knew very little about instead of the ones Hunter had.