Deadly Silence

  Heath glanced at his watch. “Did you see Special Agent Jackson on the news yesterday? She’s becoming the face of the Copper Killer investigation, and damn if her hair isn’t starting to look red.”

  “So we stick close to her,” Denver said. “Right?”

  “Exactly,” Heath said, satisfaction tilting his mouth.

  “Great. Us tailing the FBI. What could go wrong?” Ryker sighed.

  “I’m with you there. I’ve tracked down Jackson, and she’s still in Utah. I’m catching a flight in an hour to, well, bug her,” Heath said. “She has to know more than she’s told us.”

  Denver nodded.

  “Okay.” Ryker nodded too. “Denver, you keep working on Greg and finding Isobel Madison, and for the moment, I want to treat Zara’s issue like a case.” He needed to banish emotion until he figured out what was going on. Something had been nagging at his subconscious, so he tuned in. A buzzing sound. Barely discernible…but with a definite pattern.

  He motioned to Heath, who instantly stilled.

  Denver paused in typing, and Ryker shook his head, pointing at the keyboard. Denver nodded and continued typing, his gaze now wandering the room.

  “We need to get furniture for the apartments,” Heath said, his head slowly turning as he scanned the room.

  Ryker nodded and stood, trying to follow the buzz, anger swelling in him. “Why doesn’t Denver just do it? He did an okay job with the offices.”

  Denver snorted, his voice calm but his eyes sizzling. “You two morons can choose your own furniture. I’ve done my charitable deed for the year.”

  Ryker frowned and moved silently to the bookshelf near the window. Leaning around a potted plant, he saw the bug. It was rough and cheap, but it’d get the job done. His pulse spiked, and he had to take several deep breaths to keep from losing his mind. Son of a fucking bitch. They’d been bugged.

  Nobody bugged them. They had an edge because of their abilities, and if somebody else was smart and smooth enough to bug them, then they lost that damn edge. Oh, hell no.

  He walked toward the office’s entrance, his hands clenching. “I’m starving, but I don’t feel like cooking.” Even though his fridge was fully stocked.

  “Me either,” Denver said, pushing away from the computer, his eyes glinting with a harsh light even as his voice remained cheerful.

  Heath cleared his throat. “There’s a place just down the road. Kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but it looks like they serve breakfast. Let’s get a late one, and then I can return to this Internet search.” He jerked his head toward the other offices, his jaw clenching hard enough to look painful. “Sound good?”

  “Yeah. I just need to grab something from my office,” Ryker said, heading out and walking along the worn wooden floor. It had to be the kid, right? Damn, he was good. A quick search of Ryker’s office found a similar bug, and as he exited, he caught Heath’s nod upon leaving his own. Shit. Were the apartments bugged also?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter

  13

  The SUV handled so much better than Zara’s crappy car as the rain-and-snow mix slashed down from an angry sky. She reached over and flipped on the heated seats, which warmed instantly. Brock had loaned her the car to go and get lunch, but first, she had an old friend to confront. How could Julie lie to her in such a manner? Zara had triple-checked the receipts provided by Jay, and they looked authentic. If he’d paid off all of Julie’s bills, then what was she using the three thousand dollars a month for? Could it really be for drugs?

  Zara rubbed her chest, which suddenly felt hollow.

  She drove by where her car had died the day before and then pressed her foot to the gas pedal. She’d told Brock that she needed to run a couple of errands, but even so, she had to hurry so she’d have time to get sandwiches.

  She pulled into the back lot of the almost-deserted motel and noted Julie’s car, partially hidden behind a huge Dumpster. Good. Her friend was there.

  The wind smashed against Zara’s jean-clad legs as she jumped from the luxury vehicle and hurried across muddy potholes to trace her steps from last time. The wind pummeled her hair, and she ducked her head to protect her face even as a tide of hot anger swelled in her. Had she been made a fool of? When she emerged at the front of the motel, she hustled toward Julie’s room and knocked sharply on the door. Then she waited.

  And waited.

  She pounded harder, her knuckles protesting. “Julie? I saw your car.”

  Nothing.

  She pressed her ear to the peeling paint on the door and couldn’t hear a thing. Then she twisted the knob, and the door slid open.

  Glancing quickly around, she couldn’t see anything or anybody. Only the trees moved, whistling a lonely tune in the wind. Gathering her breath, she shoved inside. The smell of mold instantly assailed her. “Julie?”

  The bed was unmade, and Julie’s suitcase was open on the table with all the contents neatly organized. Zara strode over grungy orange shag carpet to glance inside the dimly lit bathroom. Toiletries were lined up on the counter—all high-end and from Julie’s time as the mayor’s wife. They looked incredibly out of place against the avocado-colored counter and rust-stained sink.

  Julie was nowhere to be found.

  Zara’s neck ached. Should she? Oh, she really shouldn’t. While her angel fought with her devil, she moved toward the suitcase and lifted a white cashmere sweater out of the way. Underwear and a bra were beneath it. She breathed out. Well, she was already committed. She lifted the silk panties and quickly went through every compartment of the suitcase, finding nothing but clothing and some costume jewelry that was pretty but not worth any money.

  God. No drugs. She knew it. Guilt tried to slither through her.

  Then she glanced at the rickety, scarred furniture. Would a druggie hide the evidence in their own suitcase? Probably not. Wincing at the dirty surfaces, she rapidly looked through the battered dresser and bed table before glancing beneath the mattress. No drugs.

  Her shoulders relaxed. Thank God. Then heat climbed into her face. She’d known Julie for years, and she should’ve trusted her. But where was the three grand a month going? Or had Jay somehow created false receipts, which didn’t seem likely since it’d be so easy to prove.

  As she straightened and headed for the doorway, she glanced around one more time. Reaching the torn curtains, she moved them aside to look into the empty parking area.

  Where in the world was Julie?

  * * *

  In the late afternoon, Ryker parked the truck outside Zara’s office building on a semi-quiet street. Three stories high and made of red brick, the place appeared imposing. The law firm was on the top floor. When he dropped her off that morning, he’d made sure she promised to stay inside until he picked her up. The firm had excellent security, and he should know, considering he’d installed it.

  Rain splattered down, and he twisted on the windshield wipers.

  He’d been working since lunchtime, trying to track Greg down after searching their building. They’d found seven bugs placed throughout the offices and none in the apartments.

  It had to be the kid. Nobody else knew they were in town. At least nobody who’d want to listen in on their conversations. Part of him wanted to shake the kid until his teeth fell out. The other part… Well, that one was somewhat impressed with the little shit.

  Denver had suggested leaving the bugs in place to lure Greg back in. For now, Ryker needed to pick up Zara while Denver figured out how the kid had hacked into their security systems without leaving a trace.

  Just who the hell was this kid?

  Not only was Ryker on the hunt for Isobel Madison, but he also had Denver set search parameters in place for Greg, the mysterious genius boy.

  Ryker’s attention shifted as Zara pushed out of the building, laughing at something Brock Hurst had said. The lawyer was on her heels, his briefcase bulging at his side.

  Zara scanned the sidewalk and saw the tr
uck. Her smile widened.

  Damn if that didn’t feel good.

  Ryker jumped from the truck and came around to open her door.

  “Ryker,” Brock said, hunching his shoulders against the rain.

  “Brock.” Ryker hooked Zara around the waist and lifted her into the truck, not missing the other man’s close scrutiny of the act. Were they about to have a problem?

  Brock paused and switched hands with the overloaded briefcase. Rain matted his brown hair to his face, but he straightened to his full height. “It’s good to see you. How long are you in town this time?”

  Ryker half turned from Zara to stand eye to eye with the lawyer. “Why?”

  Brock blinked intelligent eyes. “We might have a job for you. It’s a nasty divorce case, and there may be drugs involved. We’d need the investigation to be very low-key.”

  Sounded like the Pentley case. “We’re concentrating on missing persons cases right now and don’t do divorces, as you know.” Three other times he’d turned down jobs from the firm regarding divorces.

  “I’ve always wondered about your business. Employees, partners, other clients,” Brock said, his focus narrowing. “You’re such an enigma.” While he spoke to Ryker, the words were obviously meant for Zara.

  “We like to stay under the radar,” Ryker said smoothly, planting his hand on Zara’s thigh, heat flowing through him in a primitive warning.

  Brock’s eyebrow lifted. “It’s probably better that way, considering you don’t stay in town long,” he drawled, all charm.

  Ryker leaned toward the lawyer and released Zara, keeping her partially behind him. “You know, Brock, I like you and always have. You work hard, you play hard, and you don’t pull any punches.”

  Brock widened his stance, his lips twisting in almost a mocking smile. “So?”

  “I’d hate for us to have a problem, you know?” Ryker made his intention clear in his gaze.

  Brock full-on grinned, his good nature and a new determination shining through. “So would I, buddy. But fate is fate, you know?”

  “Fair enough.” Ryker turned back to Zara, who was watching the interchange with curious eyes. “Bye, Brock.”

  “I’ll see you on Monday, Zara,” Brock said, turning to hustle through the rain and down the street.

  Zara eyed him. “That was interesting.”

  Not really, but Ryker couldn’t blame the guy. Zara was the entire package, and Brock was smart enough to see it. Too bad Ryker had made a move first. He leaned in and indulged himself with a kiss, drawing her sweet lips against his. “I don’t share, baby.”

  She rolled her eyes. “For goodness’ sake. I guess I’m lucky you didn’t both try to pee on my leg.”

  Humor bubbled through him. The woman had a point. “How was work?”

  “Okay,” she murmured.

  That wouldn’t do. He tugged her sideways and pulled her core against his, the tension from his face-off with Brock making him rougher than he liked. The rain dropping on his head wasn’t doing a thing to calm him, either. Her legs spread on either side of his hips. “What’s going on, Zara?”

  “Nothing. Just lots of work to do for the trial.” Her fingers fluttered over his jacket, and her gaze dropped to track the progress. “We should probably get going.”

  What was she hiding? “Is there something going on I need to know about?”

  Her gaze lifted to his. “No. Not at all.”

  Hmmm. The woman didn’t get him at all. No more secrets. He leaned over her, enjoying her quick intake of breath. “Let me rephrase that. Is there something going on that you don’t want me to know about?”

  A faint pink tinged her cheeks.

  That’s what he’d thought. “Did something happen with Brock?” The guy hadn’t exactly hidden his interest in her.

  Her eyes widened. “Of course not.”

  “Did he figure out you’ve been helping the other side in the divorce?” Ryker slipped his hands into her back jeans pockets and clenched. Her full curves filled his palms, and his groin awakened.

  She blinked, and her eyes darkened. Her heated core warmed his dick through his jeans. “No. Besides, I haven’t really helped Julie. Everything I’ve told her should’ve been in all the discovery responses, anyway. And lending her money? That isn’t an ethical breach, I don’t think.”

  The sweet paralegal was keeping secrets from him. He wanted to coax her into a more stable relationship, finally willing to give it a try, but every instinct he owned bellowed that she was courting danger. Even if the problems with her car were just from age, the way she was breaking legal rules for her friend promised a bucket of hurt if she got caught. “Why do I get the feelin’ you’re not leveling with me, baby?” he rumbled.

  A slight tremor shook her torso. Oh, she might like her independence, but the woman liked it even more when he called her baby. She glanced toward the rain-covered windshield. The splatters were turning to a light snow. “I don’t have a clue about your feelings, but you really should get out of the rain.”

  He hated secrets. Yeah, he recognized the irony there, considering he was one long line of secrets, but even so. The woman should trust him, and perhaps it was time he set some boundaries with her. “I’m gonna give you three seconds to tell me what’s on your mind.”

  She stilled and then focused. Her breath came in a couple of cute pants. “What happens after three seconds?”

  Ah, there she was. The curious smart-ass who loved to challenge him in bed until he pushed her right into orgasmic submission. Taking their relationship into the light of day would spur her curiosity, now, wouldn’t it? He smiled slowly and pressed hard against the apex of her legs, holding her right where he wanted her. A woman like Zara only submitted with true trust, and suddenly, he wanted that trust more than his next breath. “Stop pushing me, Zara. Right now you have three seconds.”

  Her mouth opened and then closed. Her head tilted just enough to show intrigue.

  “One.”

  She licked her lips.

  “Two.”

  She lifted an eyebrow, and her gaze clearly challenged him.

  “Three,” he whispered.

  She waited a beat.

  He pulled her even closer to him, capturing her lips.

  Chapter

  14

  Zara exhaled into his mouth. With his hands on her ass and his big body pressing her back into the seat, she couldn’t move.

  He kissed her hard, his tongue taking control, his lips firm. One of his hands tangled in her hair, tilting her head and forcing her core harder against his.

  Hunger careened through her with the warm, wet, strong lash of his tongue. He plunged in, Ryker in full dominant bedroom mode, taking possession of her from head to toe and everywhere in between. A tide of white-hot desire flowed through her as his scent and heat consumed her.

  His hold tightened, and he slid his hand beneath the back of her shirt to sear her waist. He stepped even closer, forcing her thighs farther apart and rubbing her center to the hard line of the erection trying to punch through his jeans.

  Desire blasted through her, ringing through her ears. Her breasts grew heavy, and a pulsing echoed between her legs. He rubbed her against him, and shards of electricity rippled up her abdomen.

  A horn honked.

  She wrenched her face free, looking at the dash, her breath panting out. “Ryker. For God’s sake. We’re on the street.” She could barely get out the words, she was breathing so hard.

  His hold tightened, and he pressed his cock unerringly against her clit. Pleasure vibrated out to the point of needy pain.

  She arched and moaned, her mind spinning. “What in the hell?” she gritted out, turning to stare up at his face. Her breath completely deserted her this time. Forget panting. His rugged face was set in hard lines of uncompromising determination and desire. His eyes, those clear eyes, glittering and molten. So much masculine strength, and all of it was focused on her. “Ryker?”

  “Spill it, Zara,
or I swear to God, I’m making you come right here on the street.” Tightly leashed violence rode his voice, and instead of frightening her, it ratcheted up the sexual tension in her body.

  This was new. Or rather, this side of Ryker, outside the bedroom, was new. Oh, she’d suspected something not quite tame lived in him, and she’d caught glimpses of it before. But here, on a public street, in plain view of everybody? The man truly did make his own rules. “Let me go,” she whispered, more than a little wary and way too turned on to think straight.

  “My way, baby. Right here and right now? My way only. Talk.” His fingers curled into her buttocks.

  Her temper stirred to compete with the lust. “We are about to have a huge-assed fight.”

  “Maybe, but you’re gonna come first.” His smile held more intent than humor as he freed one of his hands to flatten on her belly. “You sure you want to push?”

  Oh, hell yeah. Not only did her pride demand it; so did her thirst for intrigue. Just how far would he go? Not that far, she’d bet. Yet something in her, deep down, wanted him to stay true to his word. To back it up like the badass he seemed to be. Yeah, she was crazy. “Let me up, or you’re going to get kicked and hard.”

  He slid his hand down beneath her waistband and panties.

  Heat spiraled up her torso, and she struggled to get up. “Wait—”

  “No.” A quick twist of his wrist and his thumb grazed her clit.

  Her thighs trembled. Her body opened. “Wait a minute. I—”

  He did it again and slipped one finger inside her.

  Warmth roared through her ears. A car drove by, splashing water. It felt too damn good. “Ryker.”

  “The street is nearly deserted on a Saturday,” he murmured.

  A group of people laughed farther down the sidewalk. “Not enough,” she hissed, fighting her body as much as him. “Let me up.”