Terry Spear - A SEAL in Wolf's Clothing

Still pondering that bit of odd news, Rourke continued to search for the notes Chris must be gathering on the case about the SEAL team, but he found nothing. Rourke was beginning to think he was on a wild-goose chase, only his goose would be cooked if he didn’t discover something important that could be used to uncover the mastermind of all this.

He thought that odd also. If Dave was right in assuming that Chris had been checking into this business with the Knight of Swords, why wouldn’t he have notes about it somewhere? He wouldn’t have a reason to keep his investigation secret.

Having looked through everything—even a file cabinet that had notes on various pack members and personal financial files—but finding nothing that would help with his quest, Rourke left the office with a heavy heart.

He would be in so much trouble and have nothing to show for it.

He glanced in the bathroom, but everything was neat, and nothing would help him there. He continued down the hallway until he came to what looked like the master bedroom, a sitting-room combination with an attached bathroom and walk-in closet.

His gaze shot straight to a black spiral notebook sitting on a bedside table, closed with a black pen lying on top.

Hope renewed, Rourke rushed to the bedside table and jerked the journal up, flipping it open to that morning’s notes.

Nothing. He flipped through earlier notes. Just pack business.

He started rummaging through Chris’s bureau and saw the corner of what looked to be a card in a sweater drawer. He moved the stack of sweaters aside and stared at the set of tarot cards.

His hands were shaking and his heart pounding as he quickly looked through the cards, searching for the Knight of Swords. It had to be there. It had to be a complete set of cards. These couldn’t have anything to do with the one that had been found on the wounded SEAL team member.

The card wasn’t there. Rourke sorted through them more slowly this time, studying each, certain he’d just overlooked it, hoping he’d just overlooked it.

But no. The card portraying the Knight of Swords wasn’t among them.

Which meant?

Coincidence that Chris would have a set of tarot cards and the only one missing would be that particular card?

Rourke began searching the other drawers but didn’t find anything else that might connect Chris with the hit on Allan. He moved to the closet, rifling through clothes and pockets, and found nothing. Then he spied a couple of suitcases on a shelf and a bag tucked on a shelf below. He pulled out the bag and unzipped it. Nothing inside. But then he checked the outside of the bag, slipping his hand in one zippered pocket, then another. And felt something. A couple of pieces of paper. He pulled the items out. A plane-ticket receipt and an itinerary.

He quickly read the date and time of the departure and arrival. It was the same time Chris had to leave town on an important errand, right before Finn arrived to protect Meara and Hunter.

But most of all, the destination was Pompano Beach, Florida, the same city where Allan Rappaport had been shot.

Rourke had to get out of Chris’s house and share this information with Hunter as soon as humanly possible.

But he didn’t know where Hunter was staying, and what if Chris discovered Rourke had been snooping around in his place before Rourke could share what he suspected with Hunter? He couldn’t return to his own apartment. Chris was supposed to meet him there in a couple of hours so he could accompany Rourke to the newspaper office.

Rourke couldn’t go to the office by himself, either, in case Chris tried to find him there. Somehow, Rourke needed to reach Hunter and Dave before Chris discovered Rourke’s scent in his house. Quiet Chris would kill Rourke as soon as he found out.

Grabbing the airline-ticket receipt and itinerary, and stopping in Chris’s office for the photo of Meara and Cyn, Rourke pondered whether this was enough evidence to show Chris was involved in Allan’s shooting and a connection between him and Cyn.

He suspected that Chris had helped set up the situation where Meara would be alone so Cyn could meet her and have dinner. But if that was the case, what was the motive? Chris obviously felt something for Meara. Why would he willingly make it easy for Cyn to have dinner with her?

On a hunch, Rourke returned to the file cabinet and opened the drawer containing Chris’s personal financial files. He began systematically going through the sub-leader’s bank and credit card statements.

He found the charge for the plane ticket to Pompano Beach and a check made out to Cyn Iverson in the amount of $50,000. What the hell?

Not wanting to risk staying any longer and chance being discovered, he grabbed the additional paperwork and hurried out to his vehicle. He drove north, thinking to go to Dave’s place, but then changed his mind and turned his vehicle around to head south. What if Dave was also involved? The pack had mutinied once on Hunter. What if his sub-leaders both had been involved?

He’d go to Hunter and Tessa’s house. It was only about a mile south of Meara’s, where Chris was checking into the cabin-renter squabbles, but Chris would never suspect that Rourke would stow away in the pack leader’s vacated house.

Rourke pulled out his phone as he drove down the coast road, intending to warn Hunter of Chris’s involvement, although Rourke only had circumstantial evidence. When his phone rang in his hand, he nearly dropped it on the floorboard.

He glanced at the caller ID. Unknown number .

“Yeah?” he said evasively. Might be a wrong number. He hoped to hell Chris wasn’t already on to him. But he knew it would be too soon. His nerves were frayed.

“It’s Meara,” the caller said, and Rourke sighed with relief. “I’m using Finn’s phone because my own is out of commission, but Dave called and said you wanted to look more into the attempt on Allan’s life. Dave tried to call Hunter to get his okay on it, but his line was busy. So Dave called me. What is this all about?”

Dave must be one of the good guys, which relieved Rourke no end. “Chris is involved,” Rourke said. He tried to keep his voice on an even keel, but the repercussions of learning such a thing made his heart race and his voice sound desperate. “I found tarot cards at Chris’s house, but the Knight of Swords was missing,” he quickly added. “And I discovered a plane ticket that put him in Pompano Beach, Florida, at the same time that Allan was shot. I’m on my way to Hunter’s house. This whole situation with Allan has to do with Chris.”

Meara didn’t say anything. Had the mountains cut their reception?

“Meara? Are you still there?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, sounding shocked.

“Yeah. I’ve got the plane-ticket receipt and the remaining tarot cards right here,” he said, relieved she’d heard him right. He patted them resting on the console, feeling like he’d just discovered a case as big as Watergate, at least as far as the pack was concerned.

“What exactly did he say?”

“He’s in it with Cyn Iverson, Meara. The guy Hunter didn’t want you to date. Chris took a photo of you dining with Cyn at that restaurant when you were supposed to be shopping for romance books in Sacramento. He lied about it. He told Hunter he hadn’t a clue you’d been with the guy.”

Silence.

“Meara, are you okay?”

She cursed under her breath. “Anything else?” she asked. This time her voice was hard.

“He paid Cyn $50,000.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment, then asked, “How far are you from Hunter’s place?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Finn and I will be there in thirty. Was anybody else in the pack involved?”