Denver and Heath watched the exchange with different degrees of amusement.
Zara breathed out, trying not to hurl the spatula at Ryker’s stubborn head. “You threatened the mayor. Seriously. You threatened the mayor of the town.” Her voice rose on the last.
Greg snorted. “The mayor? Nice.”
Ryker nodded and shared another smile with the boy.
Zara shook her head. “That is so wrong. Did anybody see you?”
“Not really. I mean, I locked his door and everything, but if anybody sees him nude in the near future, they’re gonna see bruises,” Ryker drawled.
Denver chuckled. “The mayor’s a dickhead. Wish I could’ve watched.”
“Me too,” Heath said, patting his belly. “The guy was at the courthouse when I got sworn in. Definite asshole.”
Zara bit her lip. The whole man-code thing was getting really old fast. She should’ve put a laxative in the eggs. She also didn’t like them ganging up on her, damn it. “You’re all crazy, you know that?”
Ryker cut her a look before focusing on Heath. “How’s the Copper Killer situation?”
Heath stopped chewing. “The FBI decoy is in place, and they’re hoping the guy makes a move on her. If he doesn’t…”
“Then somebody else will be taken,” Ryker said, shaking his head. “I hate waiting around like this.”
“We have searches going on the computers for possible victims, but it’s slow, and there are too many to narrow down,” Heath said, frustration crossing his face.
Zara opened her mouth to ask about the case just as her phone buzzed from the counter. She frowned. It was barely dawn on a Sunday morning.
“Who’s calling so early?” Ryker asked, pushing to his feet.
Zara read the screen. “It’s Brock.”
Tension swelled through the room, heated and wild, and definitely from Ryker.
Greg snorted. “I like Brock. A lawyer like him is a better choice for you.” His lips tipped into a smile. Was he teasing Ryker? Maybe the kid was finally relaxing.
“Shut up,” Ryker said without much heat.
Zara lifted the phone to her ear. “It’s really early, Brock.”
“We have a problem. How soon can you meet me at Jay Pentley’s house?” Brock said, the sound of tires on asphalt echoing through the line.
Zara coughed. “Um, why?” Shit. Jay had turned Ryker in.
“I’m sorry to tell you this, honey, but Julie Pentley was found dead in a motel outside of town just before dinnertime yesterday.” Brock swore. “Idiots don’t know how to drive.”
Zara gasped. Panic swelled through her. “Dead? How?” God. Not Julie.
“Multiple stab wounds. Somebody wanted her dead and bad.”
Chapter
18
Red and blue lights swirled around from the police car in front of Jay Pentley’s stately home. Well ensconced in a perfectly manicured subdivision behind secured gates, Pentley’s brick house was surrounded by groomed bushes barely being dusted with snow. Streaks of light cut through the heavy clouds, showing the morning had finally arrived.
Ryker parked his truck against the high curb, leaving the cobblestone driveway clear.
Zara pushed her door open. “I’ll have Brock bring me home.”
“I don’t think so.” Ryker didn’t like the itch between his shoulder blades one bit. He exited the truck and shut his door. “Your firm is about to hire me on this whether they like it or not.” Even if Brock refused to hire Lost Bastards, Ryker was going to figure out what the hell was going on…especially since Zara was now in the thick of it.
He took her arm and led her up the driveway and to the front door. Protecting her was becoming a full-time job. If anything happened to her, he’d never forgive himself.
She stumbled, and he righted her. “You shouldn’t be here, considering you hit Jay yesterday,” she hissed under her breath.
It did complicate things. “If Jay wants to out me, then he will out you, and we’ll go forward with wife-beating allegations.” Pentley was the most likely suspect in his wife’s murder anyway. Ryker rapped on the door.
Footsteps sounded, and Brock Hurst yanked the extra-tall wooden door open. He wore dark jeans, a polo shirt, and a dusting of whiskers along his chin. He paused. “Ryker.”
Ryker nodded. “You need me on this case. I’m making an exception to our caseload to take it.”
Brock frowned and scrubbed a hand through his already ruffled hair. “We’ll ask the client, but I have to admit, I would like a private investigator on the inquiry. The police detective doesn’t seem to like Jay much.”
“That’s because Jay’s an asshole,” Ryker said evenly. “But I’ll find out the truth about what happened.”
Brock seemed to consider the situation, his gaze sharp. “I’ll need Jay’s okay on it, but I really don’t think he killed her. So we’ll end up hiring you.”
“Why don’t you think he did it?” Ryker asked. Brock was a smart guy and wouldn’t be easily fooled.