Deadly Silence (Blood Brothers #1)(39)

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.