“I won’t,” she said softly, her intense gaze proving she probably noticed much more than he wanted her to see. “I like, ah, knowing more about you. The real you.” Vulnerability shone in her eyes.
His chest thrummed. “You can trust me, Zara.” She didn’t need to feel vulnerable with him. Ever. “I’ll protect you.”
“That’s what you do, right?” she asked thoughtfully.
He opened his mouth and nothing came out. Then he cleared his throat and gave her the truth, because he’d said he would. “Yeah. That’s what I do.” It’s who he was and who he needed to be. “I imagine it’s not easy being on the other side of that.”
She smiled. “We’ll see, won’t we? For now, I, ah, have to get to work. Jay Pentley is actually compiling documents for us today so we can answer discovery requests from Julie’s attorney. Kind of answer, I guess.”
Yeah. Enough sharing. That meant Pentley would be at City Hall, working on his discovery documents. Ryker nodded. “We’ll swing by your place for fresh clothes, and then I’ll drop you off at work.” He held up a hand to stall her question as she started to ask it. “I don’t know when your car will be ready, but I’ll find out. Denver can fix anything.” Although, the idea of having Zara dependent on him for transport, especially while Jay Pentley was still walking, held definite appeal.
By her quick snort, she somehow read his mind.
Good thing she couldn’t read past that.
* * *
Zara tugged down her moss-colored sweater and walked into the conference room, where Brock had files and notebooks haphazardly spread out. She gasped. “What in the world have you done?”
The lawyer looked up. “I’ve been trying to put all the data into some sort of order.”
She’d had it in order. “I see.” Pulling back a chair, she dropped down and slid manila files into organized stacks. Why was it that the smarter the man, the more chaos he created? “How far have you gotten on the discovery requests?”
“I’ve gone through all the documents supplied by Jay, and I read over his answers to interrogatories. We need to tweak a couple.” When he worked on weekends, Brock wore a dark blue golf shirt that emphasized his broad chest. “I also went through the affidavits you drafted for us. Good job on those.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. Brock was a stickler for procedure, and a compliment from him meant something.
He leaned forward, his gaze somber. “I know you and Julie Pentley were friends a while back, and I’m sorry you’re on this side of the aisle.”
She nodded. “I’m not sure Jay is such a great guy, you know?”
“He’s a politician.” Brock smiled. “Aren’t they all slightly less than great?”
“Says the lawyer,” she teased. An easy friendship with Brock was one of the best parts of her job.
Brock barked out a laugh. “Very good point.” He shoved a manila file toward her. “Here are the financials.”
She flipped the file folder open to read down a list. “Are we sure he gave us everything?” According to Julie, there was a lot more money than what was neatly laid out there.
“As far as I can tell. Why? Do you know something I don’t?”
Definitely. “No, but it seems like a man like Jay Pentley, with his family and trust funds, would have more income than this.” She pushed the file toward Brock. “I’d double-check with him. If Julie’s attorney hires a private detective or a forensic accountant, then we don’t want to be unprepared.”
Brock spun the file around with one finger. “It sounds like you do know something.”
“No.” She worked for Brock, darn it. The man was a master in trial and certainly didn’t need her help. “I just think Jay has more money than he’s showing. When I worked for the mayor way back when, Jay was always throwing cash around.”
“I’d forgotten you dated,” Brock said slowly, his eyebrows rising. “Was it serious?”
“Not at all.” She tried not to squirm.
Brock grinned. “Good.”
Hmmm. She reached for a ledger showing a breakdown of marital versus separate property. Jay had left a few items off. But she couldn’t tell Brock that. Not right now.
“So, ah, Zara. Are you still seeing Ryker? He seemed pretty intense in your office yesterday.”
Her gaze shot to Brock, and her instincts kicked into gear. Oh, he couldn’t want to ask her out again, could he? “Um, yeah.” That was definitely the safest answer, even if she had no clue where she and Ryker really stood.
“I think you could do better,” Brock murmured.
Zara couldn’t help the small grin. “You’re impossible.”
“I know.” He rolled his neck. “Even you have to admit that we make a perfect team in the office. Who knows how much fun we could have outside these walls.”
Yeah, and if Ryker hadn’t already thrown her world into a tailspin, she’d be lucky to date a guy like Brock. He was the total package, and he didn’t seem to flaunt it. “I’m glad we work together, and I’m happy we’re friends.”
“I’m not giving up.” He reached for a stack of ledgers, his tone cheerful.
“What ever happened to the doctor you were dating?” Zara pulled a legal pad closer to start making some notes about the interrogatories.
“She got too clingy.” Brock tossed the ledgers toward Zara. “Would you sum up the assets for the trial binder? And, um, create a trial binder?”
She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Brock. I already have one started. It’s the big blue one over on that chair. You know. The ones that says TRIAL BINDER on it?”
“Oh, good.” He reached for the binder and chuckled. “Everything should go a lot smoother after the competency hearing on Monday.”
Zara’s pen stopped mid-stroke. “I know Julie and she’s competent.”
Brock shook his head. “Her shrink, the one she’s seen for three years, will testify otherwise. Julie is unstable, Zara, and she does drugs.” His eyes softened. “I’m sorry.”
“No, she doesn’t,” Zara burst out.
“Sure, she does. She’s been borrowing money from several friends each month, pretending that she needs help with bills.” Brock scratched his head and opened another file.
Zara’s mouth dropped open only to snap shut. That couldn’t be right. She knew Julie much better than Brock did. “Maybe Julie does need help with bills.”
Brock leaned over and tapped his fingers on the ledger. “Jay has paid all her expenses since the separation. Car, student loans, credit cards.” He pointed to a column. “In fact, Jay paid off all her debts. See?”
Zara looked down and read the neatly printed numbers. Her breath heated, and unease dropped like a rock into her stomach. “We have proof?”
“Sure. Receipts for everything.”
Well, hell.
Chapter
12
After dropping Zara off at the law office, Ryker turned down a side street and headed across town. Snow began to fall quietly and softly.
On a Saturday, City Hall was vacant and closed, but he could see lights on in the mayor’s office. Zara had said that Jay Pentley would be in his office, and apparently she was correct. Excellent. After parking in a side alley, he loped around the building to the rear exit, taking a quick look around. No one. A twist with the tools he’d brought, and one of the back doors opened.
He slipped inside and quietly shut the door. The silence of an empty government building on a weekend pounded around him. Keeping his senses on full alert, he crossed the polished wooden floor and ran up the wide stairway, careful not to touch the intricate banister.
The mayor’s office was situated at the front of the building, so Ryker turned on the landing and passed several closed doors before reaching the one room with a light on.
He bypassed a vacant reception area, using a swinging half door to finally reach the entrance to the office overlooking the quiet street. Heavy breathing and a woman’s soft cry had Ryker stopping short. He peered around the o
pen doorway to see a blonde on Jay’s lap, pounding hard, her back to the door. Jay’s arms were around her waist, and he was helping her move faster.
Jesus.
The slapping sound of flesh on flesh filled the office. Jay groaned and shuddered, dropping his head to the blonde’s neck. The blonde threw back her head and screamed, her body shaking.
Ryker rolled his eyes and moved away from the door to crouch beside the receptionist’s desk.
“Oh God, Jay. That was so good,” the woman breathed.
“Yeah.” Something rustled. “I have to get back to work, sweetheart.”
More rustles as the blonde probably put herself back together. “We’re going to be together now that you’re getting divorced, right?” A definite pout lived in the woman’s words.
“Of course.” A smacking kiss could be heard. “As soon as it’s all official, you and I will go public. Slowly. It’ll be a good romance to delight voters.” A zipper. “Now be my good girl and let me get some work done, okay?”
“Okay.” The woman came into sight, slipping on a pair of high heels. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Bye,” Jay said, his voice preoccupied.
Ryker waited until the blonde had clopped down the hallway before standing and slipping inside the office. “Jay Pentley.” Ryker shut the door behind him and locked it.
Jay looked up from a stack of papers on his desk, his reading glasses askew, and the sleeves of his white dress shirt shoved up his arms. The guy was over six feet and muscled…probably from working out with a trainer. His hair was mussed, his shoulders relaxed, and his eyes lazy. The sex must’ve been good.
Ryker smiled and crossed the room to the corner of the desk.
“Who the hell are you?” Jay reached for a phone, his head jerking.
Ryker beat him to it and yanked the phone away. The entire thing clattered to the floor. He moved in, smooth and calm, and grabbed Pentley by the neck. “All you need to know is that I’m here for payback for Zara Remington.” Without missing a beat, he punched Jay in the gut. Hard.
Jay doubled over and then swung out, his fist barely grazing Ryker’s chest. “I’ll have you arrested.” He gasped.
“Then I’ll just kill you and bury your worthless ass where they’ll never find you.” Ryker punched him in the thigh and then the ribs. His muscles bunched with the need to cause real damage, to protect what he’d claimed as his own: Zara.
But that would cause more problems for them all, so he held himself back. He’d keep his monster caged.
This time.
* * *
His knuckles still smarting a bit from his meeting with the mayor, Ryker kicked back in Denver’s guest chair, the sketch of Isobel Madison in his hands. “If we go looking for her, we might find more than we want,” he murmured.
Denver nodded from across the cherrywood desk, his gaze remaining on his computer. “Yep.”
Ryker grabbed a ball of rubber bands from a corner of the desk and tossed it up in the air. “Isobel Madison had a thing with Sheriff Cobb, and no doubt they’ve stayed in touch. If we try to find her, we might bring attention to ourselves, right when we really need to stay under the radar.”
“Yep.” Denver’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
Ryker smoothed the paper out on his thigh. “We could tell the kid to stuff it, or we could somehow lock him down.”
Denver looked up, his blue eyes narrowing. “Hmmm.”
“You’re right. I don’t like either of those ideas.” Ryker breathed out. “I want to know who this woman is and why she tested us through the years.”
“Me too,” Heath said, loping into the office and dropping into the other guest chair. “At the time, I figured she was just some sort of social worker, but now…”
Yeah. Now that Greg seemed so desperate to find her, Ryker’s instincts were humming, too. “Let’s find her.”
Denver waited for Heath to nod and again began typing furiously.
Ryker turned to Heath. “What was up with you yesterday?”
Heath tugged down a ripped T-shirt marred with grease. “I had to go to the courthouse and a chick was there, getting a protection order against her husband. She was beat to hell and about eighteen years old. Name was Molly.” His tone darkened and deepened, upping the tension in the room.
“Molly. Sweet name.” Ryker treaded lightly. Heath’s mother had been murdered by her boyfriend after systematic beatings, which had often included roughing up Heath. “So the PO is a good thing, right?”
“Yeah.” Heath held out his hand and frowned at the grease marks. “I saw her outside the courthouse after the hearing, clearly talking to the asshole over by his car.” Heath shook his head.
Serious land mine there. “I’m sorry.” Ryker glanced at the grease. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s nothing more to say that you don’t already know.” Heath tipped his head to the side. “Although I’d really love to find the asshole who killed my mother.”
“We will. I don’t know when or how, but we will.” Ryker glanced at the stormy weather outside. When that day happened, he’d cover his brother. “Any news or leads or anything on the Copper Killer case?”
“No. It’s like we’re just holding our breath for the next blow,” Heath muttered.
Yeah. That summed it up. While Ryker couldn’t do anything on that case right now, he could help Zara. “How’s Zara’s car?”
“It’s fine. Well, for a piece of shit, it’s fine,” Denver said, not losing a second with his typing, even though his gaze had strayed to check on Heath a couple of times.
Heath nodded. “He looked it over this morning and then asked me to replace the brake lines. She needs a new transmission, too.”
“She needs a new car,” Denver retorted.
Ryker nodded. “Yeah, but she doesn’t exactly want to accept a car from me.” What was the big deal?
“Maybe she thinks you’ll want kinky favors,” Denver drawled.
Ryker rolled his eyes. “We both know you’re the kink bastard in the family.”
Heath snorted, visibly shaking himself out of his mood. “Remember that leather club he visited in Seattle?”
“I was on a case,” Denver said, his tone even, his fingers flying. “Why do you jerks always forget that part of the story?”
“You were a master at the case.” Ryker snorted, enjoying bugging Denver enough that he had to speak. The more he spoke, the more he continued speaking. Physics at its best.
Heath chuckled.
Yeah. He’d made Heath laugh a little. Good. “Do you still have the leather pants and bullwhip?” Ryker asked, widening his eyes. “Maybe we could use those in Wyoming if we get a case on a ranch.”
Denver stopped typing. “It was a flogger, not a bullwhip, and if you don’t stop messing with me about it, I’m going to shove it up your—”
Heath held up a hand. “God, please don’t say it. The image. It’s a mental picture that would never go away.”
Ryker bit back a grin. “We could always use Heath’s clown outfit from that case in Jersey. The master and the clown. Man, I think we might have an idea for a sitcom. Denver can spank ’em, and then Heath can make ’em laugh.”
Both of his brothers looked at him like he’d lost his mind. He tried to bite back a chuckle. Then Denver started laughing, a full rolling sound he rarely made. Heath swung his head and then joined in, the tension visibly leaving his shoulders.
Ryker settled. “Any news on Zara’s medical records?”
“You sure you want to know?” Heath asked, clearing his throat.
“Yeah.” Well, probably. “I’d rather she told me, but she hasn’t, and if I ask her directly, she’ll know I investigated her.” More than she already knew he had, that was.
“Haven’t found anything,” Denver said.
If Denver hadn’t found records, there weren’t records to find. Good. That was good. Ryker tugged on a loose thread near his knee and ripped open a hole
in his faded jeans. “Shit.”
Denver glanced over the desk. “That’s the style.”
“Like you’d know shit about style,” Heath retorted.
Denver grinned and read his screen. “I’m going to need about an hour to create a program that’ll spot and hopefully shut down any backtracking software Madison might use. We’re still calling her Madison, right?”
“Yeah. That name rings more true than the one she used with us. I always felt she was lying,” Heath murmured.
“I wish I had that ability,” Denver said.
Heath shrugged. “You have plenty of other weird ones, including the freaky computer skills.”
“Maybe that’s why she was studying us,” Ryker said, his mind flipping the puzzle around. The woman had given them written test after written test and then watched them, recorded them, working out and playing sports. They’d even attended a military training camp once with her as their guardian. He shivered at remembering the way she’d looked at him when he started to gain muscle…like she wanted to take a bite. “What if we showed weird promise in some initial tests, and that’s why she arrived to test us more? What if she wasn’t some governmental social worker keeping an eye on orphans?”
Denver stopped typing and looked up. “But that would mean—”
“Yeah. It would be way too coincidental that we were all at the boys home at the same time being tested by the same woman.” Ryker shoved down unease until a ball formed in his gut. His skin prickled. “No way could she have engineered our lives that way.”
Heath pushed back in his chair. “You’re right, so stop thinking such a bizarre scenario. That Greg kid got to you, buddy. There’s no big conspiracy that put us in that shithole, and that Madison woman was just studying us as part of a governmental study, like she said. How orphans learn or something like that.”
It was totally farfetched to consider any other explanation. “Why give us a fake name, not her real one?” Ryker asked.
“Maybe the kid gave us a fake name and her name really was Sylvia, like she told us,” Heath said.
That was the most likely scenario. “The kid is wicked smart to have hacked us so well, but genius and madness, you know?” Ryker murmured. He settled back and tried to figure out the problem.
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