Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(6)
He snatched the flimsy material with one finger, his cheek creasing.
She fought the urge to stomp her foot and look like an idiot. He wasn’t getting it. “I don’t even know where you live,” she yelled.
His phone buzzed, and he held up a hand. “Put the tantrum on hold, just for a second.” Drawing the phone out, he read the screen. Both his eyebrows drew down, and he lifted the phone to his ear. “We’ve had movement?” Then he held still. His jaw hardened even more. “Damn it. Okay, I’m going.” He paused, and his eyes darkened. “Because you just got shot. It’s my turn to go, and I’ll be right there.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket.
Her breath heated. “Who got shot?”
“My brother.”
Ryker had a brother?
He took several steps forward to grasp her neck.
She stilled. He’d never grabbed her neck before. Sure, his hold was gentle, but his hand was wrapped around her neck. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.
He leaned in, pressing just enough to show his strength. “I know you don’t wear shoes like that at work, and I know the underwear set is just for me. I like that.” He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth before drawing away. “I have to go, or I’d stay until we reached an agreement tonight. That bruise on your face offends me, and I’m done coddling you about it. You’ve got until tomorrow morning to give me the name of the guy who hit you, so I can have a conversation with him.”
Ryker released her to grab his jacket and stride for the front door.
“Or what?” she asked, her voice trembling.
He opened the door and paused, looking back at her. “Or I’ll find him myself and take him out for good.” He yanked on his jacket, looking exactly like the badass rambling man he was. “And Zara? About where I live?”
“Yeah?”
“I moved permanently to Cisco a week ago.”
Chapter
2
Life didn’t make any damn sense. Ryker leaned back against a tree and ignored the pounding rain. Blue and red lights swirled through the darkness as FBI techs hustled around the secured vacant land north of Salt Lake City, looking for evidence that wouldn’t be there. This killer was too good to leave evidence.
Being this close to any law personnel gave Ryker a gut ache, but he didn’t have a choice. At least his disguise wouldn’t reveal his true identity, although to the best of his knowledge, the FBI wasn’t after him. Yet.
Two guys wearing jackets emblazoned with yellow FBI letters finished setting up a tent to protect the body from the elements.
Ryker had caught a glimpse of the girl’s matted red hair but hadn’t gotten close enough to see her face yet. But he knew. Yeah. The body was Maisey Misopy, and he was too late again. The idea of some psycho hurting the innocent plunged him right back into his childhood, and he had to fight to keep in control of himself when all he wanted to do was punch the nearest tree.
Why did people with loved ones get killed while a guy like him, who for so long hadn’t had anybody, still walked the earth?
“How the hell did you get the news?” asked an irritated female voice from his left.
He turned to see Special Agent Loretta Jackson stepping gingerly over broken bottles and what appeared to be a dead possum. “Connections,” he said easily, raising his voice a few octaves to mask his normal tone.
She came to a halt, her battered brown boots sinking into newly forming mud. In her midthirties, she had deep brown eyes, very curly brown hair, and full lips that belonged on a supermodel, not a cop. “The family hired you.”
“No.” He smoothed down his nondescript paisley tie, which coordinated perfectly with his boring brown suit. Padding gave him a beer belly, and high-end costumery gave him a beard and mustache. Add brown contacts and a blond wig, and even the sharp-eyed agent wouldn’t be able to draw a true picture of him. “My agency is going to keep working this until the guy is caught, whether we’re paid or not.”
The family of the fourth victim had hired them two months ago, and they’d failed to bring her back home alive. Yet another person Ryker had let down.
Jackson looked around him, spotting his rented Taurus on the deserted county road. “You’re solo this time?”
“Yes.” Usually Heath handled the crime scenes, but he’d been getting too emotionally close to the case, so Ryker had stepped up. “Can I see the body?”
She zipped up her dark jacket. “Sure. Tell me how you knew about the body, and I’ll let you see it.”
“We have an alert out for any suspicious deaths of young females in the western states,” he said, giving her the truth and biting back his frustration. “When the hikers discovered this body and the local sheriff called you in, we were notified, and here I am.”
“There’s something not quite right about you guys, and I’ll figure it out after I catch this maniac.” She pushed wet hair away from her face. “If I insist on seeing your license for the state of Utah, you’ll say you don’t have it with you, right?”
“Yes.” He smiled beneath the fake beard. “Then we’ll send you copies of the license after I get back to the office.” They’d have no trouble once again faking credentials by copying authentic ones and backdating them in computer systems. Thank God Denver was so good with computers. “I’ll have my office send you our Utah credentials.”