“My sister!” Clint yelled.
“What’s the money for?” I asked.
“I told you-”
I aimed my gun at his other knee and pulled the trigger. Clint screamed as tears streaked down his face.
“What is the fucking money for?” I asked again.
It took several moments for Clint to speak. His voice was choked as he tried to deal with the pain. “Abortion!” he cried out. “He knocked her up and told her to get rid of it.”
I was so stunned, I actually lowered my gun and stepped back. It wasn’t fucking possible.
“You’re saying Nathan got your sister pregnant and paid her to get an abortion?” Gage asked.
“Fucker told her he loved her! That they were going to be together. She was eighteen goddamned years old!” Clint sucked in several harsh breaths. “She killed herself when he told her all she’d been was a good fuck!”
“You’re lying!” I snarled.
“No!” Clint shot back. “Look at the goddamn evidence! It’s right there in your fucking hand!”
I looked at the check again.
“Why not go to the press?” Gage asked. “You could have destroyed him politically.”
“I don’t give a fuck about his career,” Clint growled. “I want him to know what it’s like! To lose that one person that means everything to you!”
“Why go after Nathan in his house, then?” I asked.
Clint managed a smirk. “Couldn’t pass up the opportunity,” he said. “Him sitting there, not knowing what was coming.”
Gage’s phone beeped. He glanced at it and then handed it to me. The screen showed Clint’s military record. He was ex Special Forces.
Which explained his skill with a gun.
But not his ability to hack Nathan’s accounts. “Who helped you?” I asked.
Clint’s eyes went wide before he quickly shook his head. “No one, I work alone.”
Gage took the phone back and scrolled through it. “His father,” Gage murmured as he showed me the screen.
I shook my head. “William Yates, retired FBI agent specializing in Intelligence,” I said softly. I handed the phone back to Gage and glanced at the check again. “Where is he?” I asked.
“Fuck you,” Clint bit out.
“We’re back to that again?” I asked calmly as my eyes caught on Nathan’s signature.
I stared at it for so long that Gage asked, “What? What is it?”
I shook my head as I tried to figure out what was wrong with it. I searched my memory for that fleeting piece of information that was trying to elude me. Finally, it hit me.
“It’s not his signature,” I said.
“What?” Gage asked.
“It’s not his signature,” I repeated, louder this time. “I’ve seen his signature…but this handwriting,” – I tapped the signature on the check – “I’ve seen it too.”
I searched my pocket for my phone, and then remembered I’d left it outside the room after sending Cain a text asking him to letNathan know I’d made it to Montana okay. I left the room with Gage right behind me.
