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 open 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.”