Free Wounded Courage (Lucky Thirteen) by S.M. Butler Page B

you could think a little harder. My good will only goes so far.”
    “Are you threatening me?” That was a dumb question. Of course he was.
    “No, I’m making you a promise, Miss Hardy.” The man didn’t have a threatening undertone. It was matter of fact tone. Like it was a done deal. “You cooperate and you don’t go to prison.”
    “Listen, you don’t know anything about me. I can’t do what you need me to do.” Fear slithered through my body, like water just below its freezing point. Prison did not sound like anything I’d like. Of course, wasn’t that the point of prison? I’d done bad things in the name of good. Didn’t that count for something?
    “Master Chief—”
    He didn’t let Chris finish. “You can either help us, Miss Hardy, or you can cool your heels in prison for theft and human trafficking. I bet I could even tack on terrorism charges.”
    “You’re kind of a bastard, aren’t you, Master Chief Collins?”
    “Oh, yeah,” he replied evenly. “I’ve had a very long Navy career, little girl. I’ve seen the likes of you many times. You’re righteous, and you think that you’re doing the right thing. And you may have your family snowed into believing that, but I don’t. You’re the worst kind of criminal because you actually believe that you’re doing the right thing.”
    Oh. This was going to be a fun day.
    Certainly wasn’t what I was expecting.

Addison
    Chris shoved the folding chair back, letting it clatter across the concrete floor. He leaned over the desk. “My sister. She’s my sister. I’m not going to—”
    “Son, you want to sit down and shut your mouth a sec, okay?”
    Chris looked stunned, but he did as he’d been told. The concrete tone in the older man’s voice would not allow disobedience, and I saw Chris’s bravado crumble in the weight of it.
    The master chief turned his attention back on me. How did he manage to make me feel about twelve? “I don’t think that you really knew your boyfriend, honey. Not as well as you think you did.”
    “I knew him just fine.” I glared for good measure. “I know he did bad things. But we were trying to get him out.”
    “Oh, honey. Alex Giroux was a very, very rich man. If he really wanted out, do you think he needed to siphon money from his family?”
    I didn’t know what to say.
    “I suppose you thought you were going to fix him. You don’t fix his type, honey.” He thumbed through the file in front of him and pulled out another sheet. “This is your boyfriend’s net worth as recorded at the time of his death.”
    I took the sheet from him. I glanced over the numbers, which were right on par with what I thought. “I don’t understand.”
    “Now… men like Giroux… They have Plan Bs. They don’t just die. They’re like fucking cockroaches, always being swatted, playing dead, and coming back later to rob you of all the food you left behind.” He jabbed his finger into the sheet on the table. “This? He was at the highest net worth he’d ever had at the time of his death. He cashed in everything. Yet… no one could find any of it. It’s almost like he knew he was going to die.”
    Well, wasn’t that kind of the point of our original plan? He died officially and we moved to the Caribbean.
    “If he’s still alive…” Chris paused, “he’ll know she’s here.”
    “I think this facility is still secure.”
    “It’s a trap. It has to be,” Chris said.
    How much should I have told them? I should I have said I knew about it and why? It was terrifying to think about me doing this alone, continuing on in Alex’s stead. Only a few years ago, I’d been in high school, playing head cheerleader. 
    Now… the reason I’d done it was dead and I was unwillingly worth billions in just a few days. And I’d lost a good friend. Tears bubbled inside me, just aching to be let loose.
    I’d never lost someone I cared about before. There hadn’t even been a death in my family during my lifetime. I’d