For Love & Bourbon by Katie Jennings

had stared at it, unable to stop thinking of the woman who had sold it to him. He couldn’t bring himself to taste it just yet, not while knowing his investigation would soon turn the Brannons’ world upside down.
    “You know how it is. Stiff bed,” Cooper replied easily. He ducked past his partner into the Lucky Fox office.
    The waiting area held a traditional oak receptionist’s desk, leather arm chairs, and a hunter green sofa. Paintings of the Kentucky landscape and warm, neutral tones gave the space a cozily inviting look. Not at all what Cooper would have expected the corporate office of a multi-million dollar company to look like, but then again, this wasn’t some New York City high rise.
    This was small town Kentucky.
    The white-haired receptionist glanced up as they entered, her cheerful smile faltering. Behind gold, wire-rimmed glasses, confusion filled her eyes. “Can I help you?”
    Marco whipped out his badge. “Agent D’Amico and Agent Lawson with the FBI. We’re here to see Ty Brannon.”
    The woman eyed his badge with surprise. “Oh, my. Yes, one moment, please.”
    She ducked down a hallway into an adjoining office, speaking in a hushed whisper to the person inside. Moments later, Ty Brannon appeared, clad in a trim business suit with his dark hair neatly combed. Cooper studied him, getting the impression the man had expected them.
    “Come in, please.” He ushered them into his office and closed the door.
    Cooper turned to him. “Mr. Brannon, we—”
    “I know. The tax thing, right?” Ty offered a tight smile as he settled behind his desk. The room had similar oak and leather furniture as the front, with the family portrait that Cooper recognized from the Lucky Fox website hanging on the wall behind Ty’s desk. His eyes hovered over Ava’s face before he reverted his attention back to Ty and sat down. “I assure you, I’m cooperating fully with the IRS and the issue has been handled. I don’t know why they sent you.”
    “We have a warrant to seize your computers,” Marco began, handing Ty the paperwork. “The details are enclosed.”
    Ty examined the pages, his face draining of color. “What do you need my computers for?”
    “Financial records, proof of money transfers and communications with your cousin, Ned Brannon,” Cooper supplied. He waited until Ty’s gaze met his before he continued. “Are you aware that Ned is on Ireland’s SDU watch list for suspected terrorist activities with the Irish Republican Army?”
    “What? That’s ridiculous,” Ty replied, setting aside the warrant. He folded his hands, likely to keep them from shaking. “I know nothing about the IRA. If he’s involved somehow, I have no part in it.”
    “But you send him money.” Marco crossed his legs, relaxed. “Under FATCA we were able to uncover your overseas Swiss account. The same account withdrawals have been made from consistently for over twenty years from a bank in Dublin.”
    Ty wet his lips. “Look, I’m aware some of the money may have slipped through without taxes being paid. I’m willing to pay those penalties—I’ve already spoken with an IRS attorney who’s made the arrangements. But I don’t know anything about withdrawals or about Ned’s business.”
    “Why put the money in a numbered Swiss account, then?” Cooper asked. “Unless you wanted to hide its purpose?”
    “Why does anyone use Swiss accounts? That doesn’t make me an instant criminal.” Ty closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Look, you have your warrant. I can’t stop you. But I won’t answer any more questions without my lawyer present.”
    “That’s your right.” Marco rose, tucked his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “The team from the Louisville field office should be here any minute. They’ll be processing the files on all the computers in this office, and any you have at home, as well.”
    “I just have a laptop at home. Should I go—”
    “I’ll get it,” Cooper cut in, facing