Page 62 of Fierce Hope

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Kenji nodded and took control of the displays. The screens changed to show surveillance photos, financial records, and intelligence reports.

“We dug deeper on Kent Wycoff,” he said. “And Gillian was right about one thing—the man has connections to some serious players. Nasty guys.”

The images on screen shifted to show Kent shaking hands with a man in an expensive suit. “This is Vincent Carelli, known associate of the Donatelli crime family in Los Angeles.”

Jade blinked in surprise. “How do you have access to this kind of intelligence?”

The room fell silent for a moment before Deke answered. “Knight Tactical maintains cooperative relationships with various federal agencies. Sometimes we share information.”

The casual way he referenced classified intelligence sources made Jade realize just how far out of her depth she truly was.

“The connection goes beyond a handshake,” Kenji continued, displaying financial records. “We’ve identified patterns consistent with money laundering through several shell companies. One of them made a substantial donation to the church three years ago.”

Jade’s accountant brain immediately engaged. “The building fund expansion,” she murmured. “There was an anonymous donation of two hundred thousand dollars. The paperwork was oddly structured.”

“Could the church be a laundering operation?” Griff asked.

Jade shook her head. “I doubt it. The financial controls are too transparent for effective laundering. But a one-time transaction with minimal questions asked? That’s possible.”

“What about his wife?” Axel asked. “Could she be telling the truth about not being involved?”

“Possible,” Deke said. “Kent could have set her up. Frame the wife, create leverage for divorce proceedings.”

“Save himself several million in the settlement,” Jade added, thinking like the accountant she was.

“Either way,” Deke concluded, “we need to get into that storage unit. Now.”

As the team began discussing tactical options, Jade found Deke watching her. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes made her heart rate accelerate. Was he worried for her safety? Or was he regretting taking on a client who was a magnet for trouble?

She looked away first, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze and her reaction to it. This wasn’t the time for whatever was developing between them. Lives were at stake—including her own.

When the tactical discussion concluded, Jade found herself alone with Deke for a moment as the others gathered equipment. “A week ago I was reconciling bank statements. Now I’m discussing mob connections and money laundering.”

“You’re handling it better than most civilians would.”

She made a face. “Not exactly your average civilian here.”

His expression softened. “Jade?—”

Whatever he had been about to say was cut short by Zara’s sharp intake of breath from across the room. Jade turned at once, drawn by the sudden tension in the tech specialist’s posture.

“I just foundthis in the local police and fire logs from a couple of hours ago,” Zara said, her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Looks like a vehicle fire reported on Mountain Ridge Road, approximately seven miles north of junction 267. Call came in at almost 0900. Fire and rescue were dispatched.”

Jade wouldn’t have thought anything of it ordinarily, but the entire team had gone very still, each of them riveted by the data on Zara’s monitor. The sense of foreboding in the room spiked as Zara continued tapping at her screen.

“Follow-up notes indicate a male victim in the driver’s seat with an apparent gunshot wound to the head,” Zara went on, her voice carefully neutral. “Registration shows the vehicle belongs to Kent Wycoff.”

A chill coursed through Jade, as if the temperature had dropped ten degrees in an instant. She tried to process the information, but her thoughts slid around like ice cubes in a glass.

“Preliminary ID confirms it’s Wycoff,” Zara said after a moment, scanning further. “Shot before the vehicle was set on fire.”

Jade’s legs threatened to buckle, and she gripped the edge of the table to keep herself steady. She forced a slow breath, but her mind kept looping back to that diner meeting—around the exact same window of time. Gillian had been with Jade, sipping stale coffee and pushing a half-eaten piece of toast away.

She swallowed, her gaze flicking over the others. They looked as stunned as she felt. Kent Wycoff was dead. Murdered.Jade’s heart pounded painfully against her ribs, every scenario she could imagine skewing toward a grim possibility.

If the time of death was indeed accurate, Gillian couldn’t have shot her husband, obviously, but had she ordered the hit?

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