The MC President's Forsaken Wife (Zara and Knox) novel Chapter 140

Chapter 81-1

“Well, yes and no,” Locke says. “I was analyzing and mapping financial networks connected directly to suspected terrorist organizations.”

“That sounds like a stock answer written by a government lawyer,” I remark softly.

“It’s actually a pretty significant legal and operational distinction.”

“Explain the difference to me, then.”

Clam

“Violence needs significant money,” Locke says. “It requires international travel, safe houses, weapons, forged documents, and secure communications channels. The general public tends to focus entirely on the eventual attack itself, but the money required to facilitate that attack begins moving through the financial system months, sometimes years, beforehand.”

“And your job was to find the money before the attack happened?”

“Yes.”

“How do you even begin to track something like that?”

“You look for anomalies. Small, routine donations routed through non-profit charities. Import-export businesses manipulating commercial invoices to move across borders. Hundreds of seemingly minor payments moving through thousands of completely unrelated accounts.”

“Until you finally connect the dots.”

“Sometimes I was lucky enough to connect them in time.”

“And what happened when you actually found out something real?” I ask. “A real threat?”

“I compiled all of the forensic evidence and handed it up the chain of command. Other teams made the necessary tactical moves.”

“You mean arrests?”

“Sometimes arrests were made.”

“And other times?”

His gaze slowly drifts away from mine, turning toward the heavy snow lashing against the high penthouse windows. “I was never told about the final outcome.”

The sheer weight of the answer causes a sudden chill to drop over the room. In the dim silence, I try to picture him years ago – younger, probably not tattooed, sitting in a sterile, windowless office in a city he isn’t legally allowed to name. He was methodically following numbers across computer screens that would ultimately send armed men into buildings halfway across the world.

It fits him unnervingly well. It explains his terrifying level of patience, his absolute refusal to make assumptions without verified facts. The disturbing way that he can sit entirely motionless for hours on end, silently watching a room until a single inconsistency reveals the full shape of a lie.

Chapter 817-

“Were you a spy, Locke?” I ask, the question slipping out before I can stop it.

“Nope.”

“That answer came far too quickly.”

“I was an accountant,” he insists.

“An accountant for terrorists.”

“An accountant against terrorists,” he corrects gently.

“It still sounds dangerously dramatic.”

“I assure you, it rarely felt dramatic in practice,” he says dryly. “For ninety-nine percent of the time, it involved tedious spreadsheets, terrible instant coffee, and endless days without sleep.”

Claims

“Did it ever scare you?” I ask, searching the hard lines of his face for any hint of residual fear. “What you found out?”

“No.”

“That answer is either deeply impressive or extremely alarming.”

“I was never the man actually kicking in the bad guys’ doors, Zara.”

“No, you were just the man who built the map and told them precisely which door they needed to kick in.”

“Sometimes,” he allows.

“How long were you involved in that world?” I ask.

“Several years.”

“In lots of different countries?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“I can’t answer that question.”

“More than three?” I press, tilting my head.

He gives me a dry, unimpressed look. “Nice try, baby.”

I offer a faint smile and settle back down into the pillows, pulling myself closer to his warmth until my cheek rests against the broad plane of his shoulder. His arm immediately wraps around me, his palm resuming its slow movement up and down the length of my back.

“And what came before the financial intelligence work?” I ask quietly, trailing my fingers over his chest.

Comments

311