Deadly Silence

by Rebecca Zanetti

  She completely ignored him and turned her head toward Zara. “You never did say who hit you, Zara. I know it wasn’t Ryker. His eyes are kind.”

  “It’s a long story, Grams.” Zara’s voice remained calm with just a threat of hysteria in it. “The bad guy is long gone, I promise.”

  “Humph. Well, he had better be. That wasn’t your blood in the kitchen, was it?”

  Zara shook her head, obviously not sure what to say. The tension pouring from her hinted at pure panic.

  Grams poked Ryker in the neck with one bony finger. “Did you do that? I mean, leave somebody’s blood in the kitchen?”

  Ryker cut Zara a look, and she just shrugged. “Yes, I did.”

  “I see. So somebody broke into your house, Zara, bruised you, and then Ryker made him bleed. For some reason, you two don’t want the police to know what happened.” Grams pursed her red-lipsticked mouth. “Are you wanted by the law, Ryker?”

  “No, ma’am.” At least not with his current identity.

  Zara sighed. “I kind of broke confidentiality with a client to help Julie, then she was murdered, and we think the guy who did it wants to talk to me for some reason.”

  Grams gasped. “Julie was murdered? Oh, honey. I’m so sorry. Did her dirtbag husband do it?”

  “I’m not sure,” Zara said. “If I’d kept in better touch, I might know.” Guilt infused her tone.

  Grams patted Zara’s shoulder. “It takes two to keep a friendship going, and if you ask me, she was the holdout. You asked her to lunch many a time, and she didn’t come. Now I wonder why.”

  “Me too,” Zara said.

  Ryker turned another corner. Julie might’ve been busy, or she might’ve been a battered wife being isolated. Or perhaps…perhaps Julie had been doing drugs.

  Grams perched even closer. “The guy who tried to kidnap you—did he think you saw something or knew something about Julie’s murder?” Her voice was hushed.

  “Maybe. By the time we figured that out, Ryker had already beaten up and kidnapped a guy from my house, so now if we tell the police, he’ll get in trouble.” Zara hunched her shoulders.

  “I see.” Grams flopped back into the rear seat. “That is a conundrum.” She squinted through her glasses, waiting until Ryker met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “Are you sure you’re not wanted by the authorities?”

  His stomach rolled over. “I’m not wanted. I promise.” The old woman was damn shrewd, wasn’t she? He had to stay away from the cops.

  “Good.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “Though if you are, you should let us know in case we have to help you get out of town.”

  He bit back a smile. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine here in Cisco.” At least, he was until Sheriff Cobb got a whiff of his location, and then he’d be screwed again. So he had to keep off the radar. “Where am I taking you, Grams?”

  Zara turned and frowned. “Is she safe? I mean, if somebody is after me, do you think she’s safe?”

  “I do,” Ryker said. “But if it’ll make you feel better, we can put her up at my place.” Greg could move into Denver’s spare bedroom. “Though we need to buy some beds if we keep adding people.” He had no problem sharing Denver’s and Heath’s places as well—they were family. That’s what normal families did, right? Plus, he had a feeling having a Grams was going to be a lot of fun, and he wanted to share her with his brothers.

  “I’d love to stay over,” Grams chirped. “Lovely. Just lovely.”

  Ryker kept one eye on the road while glancing at his phone for an update from Heath, who’d been tailing Jonny after he’d left the hospital. So far all Jonny had done was hit a pharmacy, a fast food joint, and a convenience store, where he’d purchased deodorant, cough drops, and porn.

  Ryker kept a close eye on the surrounding block as he pulled into the underground garage and parked the truck. Silence pounded around them, and he turned to his senses, the ones he didn’t understand, to make sure no threats were nearby.

  Nothing.

  He got out of the truck and assisted Grams from the backseat. She tottered for a moment on the concrete and then looked up more than a foot to his face. “Thanks.” Her smile flashed dimples.

  “You’re welcome.” He gently turned her toward the stairs, more aware than ever of his odd strength when faced with somebody so breakable.

  She stomped snow from her boots as she made for the stairs, reaching for Zara’s hand as she neared.

  Ryker followed in somewhat of a daze. He now had a woman, an elderly lady, and a kid all coexisting in his apartment. So much for being on his own. For some reason, his heart felt lighter. What would Heath and Den think of the colorful Grams?

  Even so, he kept listening for threats, so when they shoved open the door of his apartment, he could only stare. Black leather couches faced a monstrous television, where Greg was playing some high-speed car-chase video game. Modern end tables were scattered around a stark white rug.

  He slowly turned to see a kitchen table in the other room. “Greg?”

  The kid paused the game and turned. “I bought some shit.” He glanced at Grams and instantly turned red. “I mean stuff.”

  Ryker closed the door behind himself and leaned against it. “How?”

  Greg smiled at the women. “Hacked your credit card. Well, the one you’re using these days, anyway. Oh, and it cost a lot extra for the super-fast delivery.”

  Ryker shut his eyes and drew on patience. “Did you get bedroom sh—stuff?”

  “Yep.”

  “Good. This is Grams, and she’s taking over the spare bedroom. You can bunk with one of the other guys or just take the couch.” Ryker rubbed a hand through his hair.

  Greg nodded. “I’ll take the couch. It’s totally soft and comfortable, man.”

  Grams clapped her hands together. “I’m starving. How about I make some homemade chili?”

  Greg’s eyes glowed. Actually glowed.

  Ryker looked around the suddenly packed apartment. Packed with people he cared about and needed to protect. His lungs compressed, and responsibility hit him so hard in the chest he almost bent over.

  He could do this. He had to do this. The fear that he’d fail had to be banished, because no way could he fail. Not with this, and not with them.

  Control. He’d use his wits to keep everyone safe, no matter how brutal he had to become.

  Ryker’s phone beeped, and he glanced down. The alarm in the safe house had been activated, showing movement. Hell.

  Keeping his face placid, and wanting nothing more than to run away for just a few minutes to be alone, he cleared his throat. “I have a work situation.” Retreating through the door, he bit back a smile at the panicked look on Zara’s face. “I’ll be back. Um, everybody stay here.” He shut the door before the woman could argue.

  Turning, he took the stairs to the garage three at a time while dialing Heath, who answered on the second ring. “Hey,” Ryker said. “Where are you? We have a hit on safe house three.” Could it be Isobel? Finally, some answers.

  “I’m heading back to town and should be there in an hour or so,” Heath said. “I put a tracker on Jonny’s car, but I’m thinking he’s a useless hired thug who isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

  “Yeah, that’s my gut feeling, too. I’ll get Denver. See you back at the office.” Ryker didn’t wait for agreement and quickly dialed Den. His voice mail message came on. “Break-in at safe house three, and I’m headed over,” Ryker said tersely, hoping Denver got the message soon. He jumped into the truck and sped out of the garage.

  The snow was falling faster, accumulating across the slippery roads. He drove for nearly ten minutes, circled the block, and then parked behind a 7-Eleven down the street.

  Safe house three was a one-story bungalow in a dismal part of town. The chipped yellow paint and cracked concrete matched the burned out porch light and broken porch swing in the corner. The neighborhood was quiet with everyone inside and out of the cold, dark storm.

 
He kept low and jogged around to the back, shoving a rickety chain-link gate out of his way. Pine needles marred the freshly falling snow, and some appeared as if the wind had blown them around.

  There was no wind. Just snow and cold.

  He moved up to the back door and listened. No breathing, no sound. He closed his eyes. Heartbeat—one. Slow and steady. The guy was well trained to be so calm.

  So was he.

  Taking a moment, he glanced at the screen of his phone. Nothing. Denver hadn’t checked in yet.

  The smart thing would be to wait for Denver, but the interloper would leave. So Ryker gingerly slid the back door open and slipped inside, pausing to accustom his eyes to the dark. A streetlight out front provided some illumination but not much.

  The house had a living room, a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a bathroom along with a basement. He made no sound as he crossed the living room and turned left.

  Movement sounded ahead of him, and he pivoted, ducking from a wide roundhouse. He came up with a sharp uppercut, catching himself at the last moment and pulling the punch as much as he could. Even so, his knuckles struck Denver’s chin and sent his brother flying backward.

  Denver slid to the ground, his head knocking the wall on the way. His black hair was mussed, and a shadow covered his massive jaw.

  “Shit, Den.” Ryker rushed to help him up. The smell of Scotch hit him first, followed by the smell of blood. “You okay?”

  Denver shrugged him off, turned his head, and spit out blood. “Bit my tongue. Thanks for pulling the punch. Didn’t realize it was you when I attacked.” The words were only slightly slurred, but for Denver, that was seriously drunk.

  Ryker smoothed down Denver’s wrinkled T-shirt, noting the bloodshot eyes and rigid stance. He took a deep breath, concern swirling through his gut. “What are you doing here?”

  Denver jerked his head toward a computer system set up against the far wall. “Decided to do a couple of manual searches to draw Isobel Madison in faster. Am tired of waitin’.” He swayed. “Somebody bit at the other end. Should have company by tomorrow.”

  So much for having time to lay a good trap. “Dude, you are not thinking right now.”

  “Neither are you,” Denver snapped.

  Ryker glanced frantically at the computer. “You can’t lay traps like that while drunk, and you know it.” Had Denver screwed up?

  “Since when do you care about rules?” Denver challenged.

  Apparently the talk they’d been avoiding was going to happen in the safe house. Ryker nodded. Fine. “Let’s hash this out.”

  “No.” Denver brushed past him.

  Ryker grabbed his arm, a pit opening in his stomach. “Stop.”

  Denver yanked free. “Not now, Ryker.”

  Hell, he really didn’t want to do this. But Ryker moved fast and blocked the way into the kitchen, panic threatening to blind him. “Talk to me.”

  Denver lifted his chin, and his eyes narrowed to a pissed blue flecked with gold. They both stood at about six foot four, maybe five, and a fight between them would be disastrous. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  Ryker swallowed and shoved down his rapidly approaching temper. Denver was the peacemaker between them all, and it was unsettling to see him out of that role. Ryker tried to keep his voice calm. “It’s time you stopped punishing yourself for leaving her. It’s been a year, Denver. Let it go.”

  Red infused the hard planes of Denver’s face. He bunched and swung.

  Ryker blocked the punch and shoved hard. Denver slid sideways into the wall. Oh, he was definitely off from the booze. “You’re drunk,” Ryker snapped.

  “Jealous?” Denver countered, regaining his balance.

  Ryker winced. He had been in a bottle not too long ago. “Come on, Denver.” Ryker’s chest ached. There had to be something he could do to ease his brother’s pain. “I’ll do whatever you want. We can go get Noni right now and bring her here.”

  Denver moved faster than Ryker could track, grabbing his shirt and shoving him against the wall. “I cared for her, damn it. You don’t take a nice woman like that and bring her into our shit-storm of a life. I wouldn’t do that.”

  Ryker stilled. “This is about Zara?”

  “You’re an asshole,” Denver spat, shoving him and backing away.

  “I know,” Ryker muttered, remaining against the wall, his entire body hurting all of a sudden. “I should’ve let her go, but then I convinced myself she was in trouble and needed my protection.” But that was a lie. Even before he knew she was in danger, he’d been playing mind games with himself. “Then somebody actually tried to take her.”

  “Yeah.” Denver ground a fist into his left eye and took several shuddering breaths. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Ryker. Of course you have to provide cover. She’s in danger.” His head hung, but he faced Ryker. “Sorry.”

  Ryker knocked his head back on the wall, feeling raw from the look in Denver’s eyes. “I kept her even before I knew that. She’s in me, Denver.” He hit his chest with a closed fist, needing to confess it all to somebody who’d get it. “In here. I don’t want days without her in them.” His voice sounded a whole lot more tortured than he wanted, but he didn’t hold back with his brother.

  Denver closed his eyes and nodded. “I get it. This is my deal, not yours. I’m sorry for dragging you into it.”

  Ryker frowned as realization slapped him upside the head. “It hurts you to see me with Zara.” Why hadn’t he thought about that? He was playing house, and he hadn’t given one thought to how that would make Denver feel. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not your fault, man. I made my choice.” Denver’s broad chest shuddered. “She doesn’t even know my real name. Never gave it to her.”

  Ryker grimaced. “So there’s no way she could reach out to you?”

  “Figured it was safer and cleaner.” Denver’s lips peeled back, the booze no doubt giving him freedom of speech for the moment. “We had only a month together. It’s been a year, and I still taste her.”

  “Then she’s not going away,” Ryker said gently, wondering if he should just go get Noni and bring her to Cisco. The self-hatred in Denver’s voice ate him alive. “Maybe you should call her.”

  Denver snorted. “She may have been a sweetheart, but that girl had a hell of a temper. She surely hates my guts now.”

  “Not if she loved you.” He’d met Noni only once, because the case had been mainly Denver’s, but she’d seemed like a gal who would stick. “Of course, you’d have to admit that you initially asked her out as part of a case.” Ryker blanched. “They kind of insist on honesty.”

  “Shit.”

  Ryker nodded, his chest relaxing as he got back in synch with Denver. “We can come up with an excuse for you to see her.”

  Denver sighed, and his eyes finally focused. “Right now we have enough on our plates. Let’s get Greg to his family, find out who Dr. Madison really was, and save your woman from whatever danger is after her. Oh, and find the Copper Killer.”

  They did have a lot going on. As if on cue, the computer in the corner dinged. “What?”

  Denver glanced toward the screen. “Another bite. They’re coming, brother. We need to get ready.”

  Chapter

  25

  Zara finished up her bowl of chili while Grams and Greg chatted happily about recipes and spicy foods. After a couple of uncomfortable moments when Greg couldn’t stop looking at Grams and kept smoothing back his hair like he was heading to church, they’d moved into a mutual love of all things edible.

  Ryker had been gone for a couple of hours, and Zara couldn’t help but worry. Not only about his safety, but also how quickly the guy had wanted to escape his suddenly full apartment. As a loner, he didn’t seem comfortable with houseguests. He’d all but had CONFIRMED BACHELOR stamped across his tough features as he’d run away like a wounded dog. She set her dish in the sink, wandered into the guest room, and noted the queen-sized bed with a dark blue bedspread. The furniture was almost ut
ilitarian and without any warmth. A few throw pillows would warm it up a little.

  Sighing, she returned to the living room just as her phone dinged. Hustling for her purse on the counter, she dug it out. “Hello?”

  “Zara? It’s Brock. I’m at the law office, and there’s an issue.”

  She swallowed. Was Ryker in trouble? “What’s up?”

  “Detective Norton was just here. Apparently the techs started running prints from the break-in at your house, and your prints came up. They think the prints are yours because there are so many, they have to be.”

  “That makes sense.” She bit her lip.

  “Yes. But your prints also matched a bunch found in Julie Pentley’s room at Lazy Horse Motel.”

  Zara stopped breathing.

  “Zara?”

  “Holy crap, they got those results fast.”

  Brock snorted. “It’s a priority, and they were looking for similarities between the two crime scenes.”

  So the cops were already suspicious of her. Thank goodness she’d already told Brock everything about Julie. “What do I do?”

  Brock paused. “You need to go to the police station and make a statement, and do it now. I told Detective Norton that you’d be right down in order to prevent him from sending uniforms to escort you.”

  Her stomach lurched. “Okay.”

  “It gets worse. There’s now a conflict between my representing Jay and my representing you, and since I’m already his lawyer on this case…”

  She nodded. “I understand. You can’t represent us both.”

  “No. But I’ll call in a couple of favors and get you a lawyer from a different firm.” More papers rustled.

  Her chest warmed. “You’re a good guy, Brock. Don’t worry about me. I can take care of it.” She had a couple of friends who worked at other firms, and she’d call them for recommendations. No way was she meeting with Detective Norton without representation.