Chapter 12: Seven Years

"Wait." My voice came out strange. "Seven years?" Grant laughed, ugly and wet. "Oh my God. He hasn't told you." He pointed. "Ask him about the wallet, Nora. Go on. Ask him what fell out of it at the Harbour Trust gala." Killian said, very calmly, "Get off my property." "Ask him why a Rourke spent four years on a health division his own father called—" "Now." Something in his voice made even Grant Whitlock move. The gates closed. The driveway was empty and the security lights hummed. I...