Page 33 of Home Town Knight

“He claimed to have no idea where Tucker had gotten the bankroll. It’s not hard to imagine what could’ve happened, though. They stumbled upon this money while they were out, and Tucker got his hands on it first. Refused to share. He wanted to go back for more and also wanted to beat Ellis to it. So he left the hotel while his buddies slept. He was loading his rifle, which suggests he knew it would be dangerous to return, but couldn’t resist the lure of more cash.”

It made perfect sense. I remembered seeing Tucker in the parking lot last night, and Owen’s theory matched every move the man had made. “But someone else stopped him first. The guy they’d robbed?”

“That’s my thought. We’re trying to track where Ellis and Tucker went yesterday. We’ll get the vic’s location data from his cell carrier, and it’ll have to be analyzed. As long as his phone was on, we can figure out where he was.”

I wrinkled my brow. “But why would Ellis and Tucker stumble upon a pile of cash in the middle of nowhere in the woods?”

“Exactly what I was wondering. I’ve asked my deputies to tail Ellis in case he tries to go back for more. That would be extremely dangerous, considering the fact that his buddy was killed over it. But money tempts people into all kinds of things.”

That was for sure. “What about your search warrants for the hotel rooms?” I asked. “Find anything interesting?”

“Nothing obvious.”

Jessi arrived with the food. Steaks slathered in peppercorn sauce with salty shoestring fries on the side. We both dug in, and I moaned at the combination of flavors on my tongue. “Wow. I thought the food at the Alpine was good, but this is otherworldly.”

“Yeah, Aiden’s a decent cook all right.”

“You get to eat this all the time?”

“I try not to.” He patted his stomach, which I happened to remember was very sexy and trim. “You should taste Jessi’s desserts. Amazing.”

“I’m glad I made it to Last Refuge after all.”

His grin softened. “Yeah. Me too.”

We finished eating our dinner and chatted as the restaurant filled up. We were still in our secluded corner booth, leaning in closer to talk over the noise. Or maybe the leaning in wasn’t so necessary. But neither of us were pulling back.

It had been like this last night when we’d met. Hard to believe that had only been twenty-four hours ago. Now, we knew each other’s full names and identities.

We’d both said ridiculous things. We hadn’t resolved those issues because there was plenty we still hadn’t discussed. But this was nice. Comfortable.

While Owen had stuck to soda, I was on my second glass of wine, and I was in no hurry to go back to my lonely cabin. Kind of like last night before I’d invited him upstairs. This time, I already knew about that sexy barbed wire tattoo on his thigh. I knew how he kissed, a slow build that grew hotter and hotter.

Owen’s leg brushed mine beneath the table. “Tell me about the article you wrote on your dad.”

I inhaled a shaky breath. “If you read it, you must’ve gotten the picture.”

“I thought your article was very well done, don’t get me wrong. Didn’t even take me that long to read.” A smile passed over his lips, and I couldn’t help returning it. “But you wrote it as Genevieve Blake, the investigative reporter. Not as a child who was grieving her parent. You don’t really know me. I get that. But as far as grieving a parent, I’ve been there. That’s all I mean. I hate that I said things to you that might have made that hurt worse.”

I hadn’t told Owen my dad’s story because I hadn’t wanted to use that awful history to score points. If Owen had wanted to believe I had a vendetta against cops, so be it. I hadn’t been interested in convincing him otherwise if he refused to do basic research.

But now, he’d read the article. He’d asked. And he genuinely seemed to care when so few people did.

Plus, the wine was enough to loosen my tongue.

“My dad was a vice detective. On the force for forty years. I grew up a cop’s daughter, and he was my idol. I even thought about following in his footsteps.”

“Gen Blake, a cop? Not sure I see that.”

I laughed. “Me neither. I caught the journalism bug in college. I thought about broadcast at first, but I love the print style of writing, so that’s what I chose. But while I was still getting started, working for whatever websites and small papers would have me, my dad got caught up in a scandal. There were accusations of vice cops running a protection racket. Getting paid off by drug dealers and gangsters in exchange for not busting them. Everyone pointed the finger at my father. I didn’t know what to believe. There was a mountain of evidence against him, and my dad just…collapsed. Literally and figuratively. He wouldn’t defend himself, and I couldn’t understand why. Unless he was guilty.”

I paused and took another sip of wine, focusing on the sharpness of the alcohol. Owen waited for me to go on.

“He was on leave without pay pending the IA investigation. I hadn’t heard from him in a few days. Went to check on him. I found him in his living room. He’d had a heart attack. His heart had been weak, and the stress took him over the edge.”

Owen’s hand reached across the table and closed over mine. “Gen,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

I took another gulp of wine. It was spreading warmth through my veins, unless that was Owen. “My dad died believing that I thought he was guilty. I couldn’t rest until I found out for sure. I became that vice department’s personal pain in the ass. Took me months, and I was broke by the endof it, but I eventually found the proof that my dad was innocent. He’d been framed by people he’d thought were his brothers and sisters in blue.”

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