Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

DRAKE

H aving dispensed with his duties as host for at least a few hours, Drake returned to his family home, sitting alone in his father's study, the weight of the past pressing heavily on his shoulders. The room was dimly lit, the only light filtering in from the pair of French doors behind the desk and the fire crackling on the opposite wall. He'd spent the last few days sifting through his father's files, but it was the dusty, leather-bound ledger he now held that had captured his full attention.

His father's meticulous handwriting filled the pages, but it was the unfamiliar symbols and codes interspersed throughout that caught Drake's eye. His heart pounded as he flipped through the ledger, each page revealing more of the cryptic notations. It was clear that these were no ordinary financial records.

As he deciphered the codes, Drake's anger grew. The ledgers seemed to hint at illegal—or at least off the books—transactions, money moving through shadowy channels and being funneled into obscure accounts. His father, a man he had always respected, seemed to have been involved in something sinister. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him feeling both betrayed and furious.

"Damn it," Drake muttered under his breath, slamming the ledger shut. He rubbed his temples, trying to process all the implications of what he'd discovered. How could his father have hidden this from him? From the clan? Who and what else had he been involved in?

Drake's dragon senses began to tingle, a prickling sensation running up his spine. He'd felt it more acutely when he'd been in the gathering area at the opening of the annual tasting event. There had been a moment when he'd felt almost overwhelmed with dizziness and a churning gut. But this tingling along his spine was different. It was a feeling he had learned to trust, one that alerted him to hidden dangers. He sat back in the leather chair, closing his eyes and focusing on his heightened awareness. The room around him seemed to hum with an unseen energy, and his suspicion that his father's death was no accident solidified.

The official story had been a no-fault car accident perhaps precipitated by a heart attack, but Drake had never quite believed it, and had allowed the wishes of the clan to honor his father's death with the traditions of their past. Now, with the coded ledgers in hand, he felt certain that his father had been involved in something dangerous enough to get him killed. His dragon instincts sharpened his perception, allowing him to pick up on the faintest of clues that an ordinary person might miss.

Drake leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Who else knew about these transactions? And how deep did the corruption go? Drake felt a surge of anger combined with determination. He would find out the truth. Period. It didn't matter what the consequences were, he would see things set right. He owed it to his father to uncover the secrets that had led to his death.

Drake's senses remained on high alert. He knew that from this moment on, he would have to be careful. It might be time to have Jasmine return to her home. The dangers his father had faced were now his to navigate, and the circle of who he could trust was going to need to remain small. It could be argued that those at the distillery were members of the clan, most of whom he'd known all his life, but still if he was interpreting the ledger correctly, some of those people had to be involved.

Drake took a deep breath and reopened the ledger. He would unravel the mystery, piece by piece, until he uncovered every hidden secret. Only then would he be able to avenge his father's death and put an end to whatever dark forces were at play.

Drake was still engrossed in his father's coded ledgers when the door to the study creaked open. He glanced up, his senses immediately on alert, though he relaxed slightly upon recognizing his Aunt Victoria standing in the doorway. Her stern expression and the way she held herself hinted at the reprimand she was about to deliver.

"Drake, what are you doing in here?" Victoria's voice was sharp, cutting through the quiet of the room. "We have guests—ones who paid a lot of money to attend this event—out in the gathering room, and it's rude to leave them unattended."

Drake closed the ledger and leaned back in his chair, carefully masking his frustration. "I needed a moment, Aunt Victoria. There's something I had to look into."

Victoria stepped into the room, her eyes narrowing as she took in the sight of the ledger on the desk. "Is that one of your father's books?" she asked, her tone softer now, tinged with curiosity.

"It is," Drake replied, watching her closely. "I've been going through his files. There are... things that don't seem to add up."

Victoria's expression tightened, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Drake, what would you know about finances or what it takes to run a business? You've only just left the Navy. I doubt they had you SEALs doing detailed financial analyses of our enemies. Besides, your father was a complicated man. Whatever it is you think you're looking for, now is not the time. Your absence will be noted."

Ignoring her attempt to change the subject, Drake pressed on. "Did you ever suspect my father was involved in something illegal?"

Her eyes flashed with a mixture of surprise and something else—fear? anger?—before she quickly composed herself. "Your father was a businessman, Drake. He dealt with many people, and not all of them were saints. But accusing him of illegal activities? You should be ashamed of yourself. You chose to be gone for a long time, you have no right to come in here and criticize how things were done."

Drake stood up, stepping closer to her. "I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I'm trying to understand these ledgers—there are coded transactions. They suggest something more than just business as usual."

Victoria took a step back, her gaze darting away from his. "I wouldn't know about that. Your father kept many things to himself. Perhaps it's best to let some of his secrets go to the grave with him."

His aunt's answers were evasive at best. There was something she wasn't telling him, something important. He could sense it, the way her body tensed, and her eyes refused to meet his directly.

"Aunt Victoria," he said, his voice steady, but firm, "I need to know the truth. I am the alpha here now. If there's anything you can tell me, now is the time."

She hesitated, just for a moment, before shaking her head. "I'm sorry, Drake. I can't help you. Now, please, come back to the gathering room. It's what your father would have wanted."

With that, she turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Drake watched her go, his mind racing. Her reluctance to speak only confirmed his suspicions. There were secrets here, buried deep, and he was determined to uncover them all. His father's death, the coded ledgers, Victoria's evasiveness—it all pointed to something much larger, much darker than he had ever imagined.

As he returned to the desk, Drake's resolve hardened. He would not rest until he had uncovered the truth, no matter how deep he had to dig or what dangers he might face along the way. His father's legacy demanded nothing less.

Drake took a deep breath, closing the ledger and straightening the papers on his father's desk. As he prepared to leave the study and rejoin the tasting event, his mind buzzed with fragments of information. His father's coded ledgers, Aunt Victoria's evasive responses, and his growing sense of danger all pointed to one conclusion: he needed help. Someone with law enforcement connections could guide him through the murky waters ahead.

As he left the office which had once been his father's, and made his way to the tasting room, he gathered his thoughts and tried to make sense of them. The atmosphere grew warmer, and the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful chatter grew louder with each step. He mentally sifted through his contacts, considering who might have the connections and discretion necessary for such a delicate investigation.

Entering the room, Drake was once again assailed by a wave of nausea and dizziness. The sensory overload hit him hard, and he steadied himself against the door frame, taking slow, deep breaths. He knew these feelings were more than just nerves, more than just his enhanced dragon senses warning him of the danger lurking nearby. Unless he was mistaken—and he didn't believe he was—his fated mate was near, and as he'd felt nothing within the clan, it stood to reason that she was amongst the guests.

Determined to push through, he scanned the room, his eyes landing on the attractive but aloof woman he had noticed earlier at the tasting event. Her elegant posture and the way she observed everything around her with keen interest stood out to him. He had intended to avoid her, assuming she was just another guest, but now he realized he had no choice. There was something about her that suggested she might be more than she appeared.

Reluctantly, Drake made his way over to her, weaving through the crowd of guests. As he approached, he caught snippets of the conversation but kept his focus on the woman. She was standing near a display of the distillery's finest bottles, her back straight and eyes sharp.

"Excuse me," Drake said, offering a beguiling smile. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Drake McAllister."

She turned to face him, her expression cool and assessing. "Megan Reynolds," she replied, her tone neutral and her eyes revealing nothing as she extended her hand to him.

"Nice to meet you, Megan," Drake said, recognizing her as a shifter and trying to gauge her reaction. The instant their hands touched, it was as if an electrical charge arced between them. He knew she felt it, too, when she jerked her hand back. Drake smiled, trying to reassure her. "I couldn't help but notice you seem to be observing more than participating in the activities. Mind if I ask what brings you to our little event tonight?"

Megan's eyes narrowed slightly, and she studied him for a moment before answering. "I have both a personal and a professional interest in the distillery. Let's leave it at that."

Her evasive answer piqued his curiosity even further. Drake took a step closer, lowering his voice. "Might your personal interest have to do with seeking your fated mate?" Her eyes flashed, but she quickly reverted them to neutral.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about Commander McAllister."

"It's mister now, but I would prefer Drake. The fact is Megan, I could use some help with a... delicate matter. Someone with your observational skills might be able to assist."

Megan raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. "Why trust me, and what kind of help are you looking for, exactly?"

Drake hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Because I sensed earlier that you are not just some random guest at our annual tasting event. So, I asked a friend to run a background check on you."

From the moment he'd thought something was off with the books, he'd had Jasmine run a background check on any guests who had not attended the annual tasting before. Megan Reynolds had passed the preliminary check, but Drake had asked Jasmine to dig deeper. What she'd found led them both to conclude that Megan Reynolds was a cover identity.

He held up his hand to ward off her denial. "But I'm willing to let that matter slide at the moment. I need someone I can trust. I've been gone a long time. I'm trying to uncover some information about my father's business dealings. There are things that don't add up, and I believe someone with the right experience could be invaluable."

For a moment, Megan's mask slipped, revealing a flicker of surprise. She quickly regained her composure, but Drake had seen enough to know he was on the right track.

"I might be able to help," she said slowly. "What kind of experience do you think I have? And whatever it is, you'll need to be more specific about what you're dealing with."

Drake nodded and grinned, relief washing over him. "I appreciate your discretion. Given some of the information I've uncovered, I'm wondering if you might be with some kind of law enforcement agency." No reaction. His mate was undercover and good at her job. "I'm thinking either the FBI or perhaps even the ATF? Perhaps we can find somewhere quieter to talk."

Megan glanced around the room, then back at Drake. "This is your distillery, Alpha. Lead the way."

As they moved toward a quieter corner of the distillery, Drake was beginning to feel that with her help, he might be able to unravel the mysteries surrounding his father's death and the hidden dangers that threatened the distillery and the clan.

Not certain of her true identity, he felt a cautious optimism. And there was the potential of a fated mate bond. Despite what might lie ahead, Drake sensed he had an ally in Megan Reynolds.