Free Velvet Lightning by Kay Hooper

Leon said in a grim tone, “has stumbled onto it. Falcon Delaney has been looking for that stolen shipment of Union gold, and it looks as if Tyrone is the man who ended up with it somehow.”
    Impatiently Sheridan said, “If he did, it’s got nothing to do with Camelot.”
    “Falcon thinks it has. And you all have me to thank that he didn’t question you about it tonight.” Another shocked pause.
    Subdued, Sheridan asked, “Us? But—why?”
    “Because Tyrone, damn his black heart, left a few sweet little notes in a ledger before he set off for God only knows where. And Falcon saw them. The word Camelot, underlined, and a list with all our names on it.”
    “Call your man off,” Anderson suggested quietly.
    “I can’t. Hell, that’s one of the reasons I put him onto the gold in the first place. He’s one of the Arizona Delaneys, and you don’t call those men off. You just don’t . He’s been tracking the gold for eight years, and now he’s convinced that Camelot is somehow connected to the gold. Maybe it's because Tyrone’s involved in both. God knows. I don’t doubt he’ll head for New York at dawn to pick up Tyrone’s trail.”
    There was a moment of silence, and then Anderson spoke again. “Would Tyrone tell Delaney?”
    Leon bit the inside of his cheek, then shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s always been a peculiar kind of understanding between those two, or at least it seemed so to me. Not quite enemies; not quite friends. Mutual respect between them, I’d say, and a high degree of wariness. Tyrone might tell him the entire story. He might tell him nothing at all. I just don’t know. But I do know one thing.” He looked at the other men steadily. “If Falcon Delaney finds out about Camelot, he could jump either way. He could keep it to himself and take it to his grave; or he could take it public.”
    “We’d be crucified politically,” Anderson murmured.
     “ Crucified? ” Sheridan exclaimed, and then hastily lowered his voice. “Jesus Christ, Paul, we’d be lucky to escape being hung! There’s only our word for it, the way things were then; his doctor’s been dead and buried for five years. Tyrone could call us all liars, say that accident was meant from the start, all our idea. Our word against his, or course, but we’re not exactly on the side of the angels in this case.”
    In a quavering voice Judge Franks said, “Surely your man could see the necessity of what we did, Leon? And why would he stir it all up now? There’s no reason!”
    Leon sighed. “I just don’t know, I tell you. But Falcon’s got a strong sense of right and wrong. He’s not puritanical, but if he decides the public should know what we did, he’ll damn well tell them.”
    “You have to stop him,” Sheridan said numbly. “We have too much to lose and—God, you have to stop him!”
    “I can t.”
    “Then what do we do?”
    “Wait.” Leon shrugged. “Hope that Tyrone keeps his mouth shut about Camelot. Or, at least, that if he talks, he makes Falcon understand how it was then. That we had no choice. What else can we do?”
    There was no answer.
     
     
    New York
     
    It was actually three days later that Falcon and Victoria arrived in New York and made their way to the waterfront. Falcon had felt no particular urgency and, truth to tell, was reluctant to ask his new brother- in-law questions that would be rightly viewed as an intrusion and possibly as a personal insult. Still, he had no choice.
    They entered Marc Tyrone's waterfront office early that morning to find Jesse Beaumont at the desk and coping with paperwork, his shirt sleeves rolled up, his fair hair mussed as if he had been clutching it in despair, and his green eyes a little wild.
    He looked up as they came in, and instantly groaned.
    “No. Tory, it’s always nice to see you, but take that husband of yours away. He’s got a determined look on his face, and I don’t want to hear whatever he’s going to say.”
    “Hello,