“All right. The detective informed our senior partners of the case, so you’re suspended for the duration of the investigation.” Brock was silent for a minute. “I fought for an hour to make sure it’s with pay, so don’t worry about that. If you need anything, let me know. I’ll help if I can.” He clicked off.
She woodenly sat there for a moment.
“Everything okay?” Grams asked, looking up from her chili.
Zara nodded. “Yes. Just some business I need to take care of.” She quickly texted Ryker with a brief recap of what had happened. Then she started calling friends and leaving messages for them to call her back. Where was everybody? Geez.
Finally, she went into the master bathroom and freshened up, putting on pink lipstick and brushing her hair before slipping into a pencil skirt and warm sweater. The last thing she wanted was for uniformed police officers to start knocking on doors in her neighborhood looking for her. So she grabbed her coat and headed out to the living room. “I have to go take care of some things.”
Greg frowned. “It’s after eight at night.”
“I know.” Brock had promised the police she’d be down that night, and Detective Norton didn’t seem like a guy who’d just wait around for long. Zara tried to appear calm. She needed to throw up. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Heath poked his head in. “Just got a text from some lawyer named Brock? Ryker had given him my number for some reason. Rumor has it you need your own lawyer.”
Grams pushed away from the counter. “A lawyer? Why would you need a lawyer? Is this about the break-in at your house?”
Greg turned around on the barstool, his chin lowering. “I can have you out of town and to a safe location within thirty minutes. Somewhere totally off the grid where they’ll never find you.”
Zara gaped at him. He was twelve years old, for goodness’ sake. “Um, thanks, but I think I’ll just go make a statement.” She hurried forward and kissed her grandmother on the cheek. “Oh. Grams, that’s Heath.”
Heath nodded.
“Nice to meet you,” Grams said, her eyebrows drawing down.
For good measure, Zara pecked a kiss on Greg’s cheek. “We’ll keep your idea for plan B,” she said with a smile.
His ears turned red, and he nodded.
She grabbed her purse and hustled toward Heath. “Don’t worry, you two. The police just want a statement from me, and then I’ll be home.” Hopefully. Were her prints at the murder scene enough probable cause to arrest her?
Heath closed the door behind them. “You can explain everything on the way to the station.”
She nodded. Ryker’s blood brother had shortish brown hair and stunning greenish brown eyes. He wore faded jeans, motorcycle boots, and a brown leather jacket, looking more like a badass biker than a lawyer. For some reason, that calmed her. “Where is Ryker?”
“On a case.” Heath led the way down to the stairs and pushed open the heavy door to the garage before stalking toward a decked-out black muscle car. “She’s solid enough she doesn’t really need snow tires yet. Hop in, Zara.”
Zara opened the door and slid onto black leather seats softer than a peach.
The car started with a loud purr. Heath backed out of his spot. “All right. Tell me everything, and start at the beginning.”
She took a deep breath and told her new attorney everything, trying not to notice how concerned his expression was by the time they reached the police station. “What do you think?” she finally asked.
He sighed and looked at her, his gaze beyond serious. “How do you feel about starting over somewhere else?”
* * *
Dr. Isobel Madison followed the crumbs along the Internet to a small Wyoming town called Cisco, her fingers clicking easily across the keyboard in her office. Oh, she kept her signature off her trace, and she made sure nobody knew she was calling.
Interesting that her searches, mainly across the dark web, had brought her back to this rather clear beacon. Even for a carefully laid trap, there was something sloppy about it.
The men she’d created in test tubes, even the ones she hadn’t personally raised, had extraordinary intelligence ranges. Not one of them would make a mistake like this one. So that prompted questions: Had one of her creations lost his mind, or was somebody else looking for her?
Interesting.
She quickly texted Todd to come see her. He was training his pseudo Protect army down at the barns. Truly, she couldn’t wait to terminate her association with them.
If this beacon led where she hoped, that would happen sooner rather than later.
She clicked over to another screen, this one password protected. Methodically working her way beyond the encryptions, she noted the progress of her newest lab. Excellent. Another couple of weeks, and it’d be operational.
Destiny shone bright and hard before her.
Sheriff Cobb strode into the room.
Isobel sat back behind her glass desk and studied him. Much, much better. She’d reached out to him months ago, and surveillance videos had shown him to be almost portly. The man had let himself go in the years they were apart, and he was only forty-five years old—ten years her junior. Yet now he looked like the mean fighting machine she remembered from years ago. Ripped muscles moved beneath his pressed uniform, and he walked with the angry grace she remembered from their time together. Obviously he’d started working out the moment she’d contacted him. “Thank you for coming. It’s time we brought the Lost boys back into the fold.”
“I’ve been trying to find them for years,” he countered, his eyes glittering with a primal light as he leaned against a tall file cabinet. “The assholes killed my brother.”
She shifted in her seat. While she’d had many lovers through her life, the sheriff had always held an edge that fascinated her. “When my lab is up and running, I’d like to do some tests on you.”
“Why?” His gaze dropped to her chest.
“I’d bet my slush fund that you have the warrior gene.” As did all of her creations, she was sure.
He frowned. “Isn’t that the one psychopaths have?”
“Sometimes.” She smiled and stroked his ego, truly intrigued by him. “You’re not a psychopath.” He was most likely a sociopath, which would work nicely with her plans.
“I like that you like all of me.” Vulnerability, rare in him, shone in his eyes. “That you’re not turned off by my darker urges.”
“I like dark urges,” she said, lowering her voice. “You know that.”
He shuffled his feet, looking endearing and dangerous all at once. “I’m glad you called me a few months ago. I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you, too, and appreciate your coming so quickly when I called.”
He cocked his head. “I never figured we were quite finished with each other.”
She smiled and leaned back to stretch her neck, not missing when his eyes flared. “We aren’t, but I need you to keep that between us until I’m finished with Todd and his forces.”
The sheriff lifted his chin. “You’re sleeping with him.”
“No,” she lied. “Yet he seems to have a bit of a crush, and I need to use that for the time being. He’s such a moron, but he does have a fighting force.”
“So when we’re done with him, you’re fine if I slice open his jugular?”
She smiled. “Of course. I’d appreciate you taking care of me that way. Did he show you to your quarters?”
“You mean, my room?” Elton patted the grooved wooden wall. “This is more like a cushiony lodge than a training facility.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “The soldiers and I use that term loosely. All bunk down in the barracks, which used to be barns.” The only hitch in her plan would be if Todd and the sheriff started fighting over her, especially since Elton would kill Todd, and she really needed Todd’s fighting forces. Her own force was at an all-time low since the depot in Utah had been blown up. “I need you
to act as if you’re here as an advisor to bring the Lost boys back in, and not because of me. Temporarily.”
Elton rubbed his hand across his jeans. “Fine, but you’re gonna have to earn my cooperation.” His tone was gritty and thick with dark promise.
She’d figured. “Yes?”
“My room, midnight.” Without another word, he pivoted and disappeared from sight.
Apparently the good sheriff had gained a backbone in the years they’d been separated. She’d be smart not to underestimate him.
Heavy footsteps clomped down the hallway, and Todd came into view. “You texted me?”
The man moved like an elephant. She couldn’t help but compare Sheriff Cobb’s hard abs and lack of conscience with this soft, silly pretend soldier. Soon she’d be rid of Todd and his bizarre quest to rid the world of science. Even so, she forced a smile. “Yes. I had an alarm go off, and I think I know where a couple of my test subjects are. Cisco, Wyoming.”
He smiled, revealing a slight gap between his front teeth. “We’ll take them out.”
“No.” She held up a hand. “First, we need to find them and see who we’re dealing with. Many of these boys formed connections with each other when they were young, so if we find one, we should be able to use him to find more. Your mission is one of intelligence gathering.”
His face settled into harsh lines. “I’m a soldier.”
He wasn’t even close. She nodded. “Yes, and part of any mission is to gather intel. Just go to Cisco and stake out the address I sent to your phone. Trust me, darling. This is the right way to get the job done.”
“Where were you this morning? When I awoke, you were gone.” He sounded petulant.
She’d had to shower him off her from the night before. “I came to work, as usual.” Forcing her lips into a flirty smile, she sent him a wink. “You know successful ops stir my desire, Todd. Do a great job on this one, and I’ll let you do anything you want to me.”
He moved then and leaned over to kiss her on the mouth. His lips were too soft and mushy. “I love you, Isobel.”
“Then trust me with this op. I know what I’m doing.” She licked along his lips. “I love you, too.”
He stepped back, warmth in his eyes. “All right. I’ll check in.” Turning sharply, he stomped out of the room.
She breathed out and lost her smile. The man was straining against his leash. She couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t let emotion overrule logic and try to kill whoever was on the other end of that beacon.
Well. Hopefully it was one of the men she’d created. If not, or if they’d lost their edge, Todd or his men would kill them.
Chapter
26
Zara fiddled with her purse strap in the interrogation room of the police station. The heat blasted through, warming the surprisingly cozy area. The oak table appeared well polished, and the chairs were upholstered in thick leather. Pretty landscapes covered the walls, and even the commercial mint green carpet seemed well vacuumed.
Detective Norton sat across from her while Heath kicked back at her side.
“I expected something colder,” she said, looking around.
Norton smiled, wrinkling the corners of his deep brown eyes. “This is more of a conference room. The cold concrete block room is down the hallway a bit.”
“Oh.” Even though the place was nice, she couldn’t banish the hard knot in her chest. She glanced at Heath.
Heath nodded. “My client would like to make a statement.”
The detective lifted both eyebrows. “All right. Go ahead.”
Zara took a deep breath and told the detective about her helping Julie, about being in the motel room the day of the murder, and finally about the break-in at her house, where the intruders got away. She left out the tiny part about Ryker kidnapping one of the intruders and then questioning him.
Norton just looked at her, no expression on his rugged face. For a man in his early forties, he had very few lines fanning out from his eyes. Maybe he didn’t smile much.
Heath drummed his fingers on a blank legal pad in front of him. “As you can see, my client may have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but she hasn’t broken any laws. Are we done?”
The detective blinked, not taking his gaze from Zara. “No. We are nowhere near done, counselor, and you know it.”
“It’s late, Detective. Get to it so I can get my client safely home.” Heath kept his voice even, but strength and intelligence clipped his words.
“Ms. Remington, let’s chat again about the motel. Your fingerprints were all over the place—from the dressers to the walls to the bed. It appears as if you searched the room. What exactly were you looking for?” the detective asked.
Zara swallowed. “I already told you that Jay Pentley said Julie was on drugs, and since I had been loaning her money for bills that had possibly already been paid, I searched for drugs.”
“Did you find any?”
“No.” The need to defend her friend rose hard and fast in her.
“I see. Were you looking for anything else?” the detective asked.
Zara shook her head. “No.”
Norton rifled through papers. “You say you saw Julie’s car in the rear parking lot, but she wasn’t there.”
“True.”
He looked up. “I find it odd that you hid your car in the back lot, making sure nobody saw you.”
“My firm was representing Julie’s husband in a divorce action. I was breaking firm rules, malpractice rules, and legal ethics.” Her face heated. “But Julie was my friend, and she needed help.” The idea that Julie was gone still made Zara’s chest ache, and the fact that somebody had stabbed the kind woman made her sick. “So I helped her.”
“By giving her three thousand dollars a month,” the detective said.
“Yes.” Zara abandoned the purse strap and clasped her hands together in her lap. Her skin flushed cold, and she felt guilty even though she’d done nothing illegal.
“Hmmm.” Norton scratched his head, his lips turning down. “Sounds more like blackmail.”
Heath leaned forward. “Be nice, Detective. My client is here of her own free will, trying to assist with your case.”
“Right. So blackmail? What did Julie have on you, Zara?” Norton asked, his gaze shrewd.
“Nothing,” Zara whispered, her head beginning to pound. How much trouble was she in? Would a jury believe the detective even if he was wrong? Bile rose in her throat, and she cleared it. “We were friends, and I was helping her out.”
“Jay Pentley thinks you’re still in love with him.”
Zara took a second to catch up. “Still? I was never in love with Jay. We went on a few dates, and then I broke it off. He and Julie started dating a few months later.”
“You want me to believe that you broke it off with Jay and you were just fine with him dating your friend?” Norton banged his fist on the desk.
Zara jumped. God, she wished Ryker was there with her. “Yes. I mean, I thought Julie could do better, but I wasn’t upset about her wanting to date Jay.” She fidgeted in her chair. Did Norton really think she had something to do with Julie’s death? “Julie was my friend, and while I didn’t care much for Jay, I wanted her to be happy. Then when the divorce got so ugly, I wanted to help her, and I did.”
“Zara, I want to work with you here.” Norton’s eyes lightened, and he leaned toward her, his face in earnest lines. “But I can’t do that unless you level with me.”
“I am,” she burst out, trying not to panic completely.
He sighed. “Why didn’t you report the break-in at your house?”
She didn’t have a good reason that didn’t include Ryker distrusting the authorities and wanting to do things himself. Was he wanted by the law? If so, he should’ve told her. She would’ve helped him—that she knew. Man, her life had changed.
But Ryker had changed it, and he needed to be completely honest with her. She cared for him so much it scared her. Too much of her l
ife was spinning out of control. Her hands shook, and she felt the walls closing in. Who exactly was Ryker?
She needed to make a decision, so she made it. Ryker was hers, and he was going to remain hers. Whether he liked it or not, they were going for it. Period.
She faced the cop head-on and continued with her story, her loyalty completely secured by Ryker. “I scared the guy off, and since he wore a mask, I couldn’t identify him anyway.” Heath had advised her to make it one guy instead of three for plausibility.
“And he made it only to your kitchen? Not to any of the bedrooms?”
She thought back. None of the guys had made it to the bedrooms. “Nope. He didn’t go beyond the kitchen and living room.”
“You figured the intruder had something to do with Julie’s death?” the detective asked, scribbling in his notebook.
“No,” she lied. “I thought it was random.”
“That’s a pretty lame excuse for not calling the police.” The detective’s head snapped up, and his focus fixed on her.
She fidgeted, and a blast of terror shot down her throat. What should she do? “I’m sorry. It all happened so fast, and I wasn’t thinking.” Her voice rose, and she couldn’t control it. Heath had told her to leave both Ryker and Greg out of the story, so it now didn’t make any sense, did it? “I didn’t break the law, so let’s just move on.”
“All right.” The detective tilted his head. “Tell me about your involvement in the Picalo Club.”
She frowned. “The what?”
“The Picalo Club. You know, the private club in town where key switching and threesomes is the norm?” he asked.
Zara glanced sideways at Heath, her mind spinning. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”
Norton reached beneath his nearest manila file and drew out a laminated card. “We found this in the dresser of your bedroom.”
Zara reached for the ID card. It had her picture on the left, her name below it, and to the side, a symbol for the Picalo Club, which was an intricate P surrounded by roses. “I’ve never seen this before in my life,” she said, looking up, her brain fuzzing. “I don’t understand.”