She pushed inside and walked over to the desk, only to frown. There was no one here. She scanned the gym. Empty.
“Hello?”
No one answered. So no one was here? But then why was the front door unlocked?
Her gaze caught on the closed door near the back beside a hall. An office? Could he be in there?
She shot her gaze to the entrance. She should leave. The place wasn’t open and no one had answered her call. She could come back another time.
But she really wanted to lock this in so she could report back to Shelley.
She crossed over to the closed door and knocked, only then realizing it wasn’t completely closed, but ajar. Her knock pushed it a bit more open.
She ducked her head in. “Hello?”
Also empty. There was a desk in the center of the room and a hip-level filing cabinet opposite the door. Her gaze caught on some framed photos above the cabinet.
Like her feet had a mind of their own, she crossed over to the pictures. All of Zane. Most looked like they were taken after a fight. Some of him with other fighters. There was even one of him in the ring.
She focused on a photo of Zane with an older woman. He looked younger in that photo. Maybe early twenties. And the woman was old enough to be his grandmother.
She tilted her head. They both looked so happy.
She was about to leave when a photo poking out of a folder on top of the cabinet caught her eye. It was printed on a piece of paper, and the only reason she looked twice was because it was clearly a mug shot of a man with narrowed black eyes and a bald head.
Something about his photo made her shudder. Maybe because he looked so…hardened? And angry. Definitely angry.
Without thinking, she slipped it out from beneath the pile and read the heading: “Active Monitoring File.” There was an inmate number and a name.
“Monty Cruz,” she read quietly.
“What the hell are you doing?”
She gasped and spun, her hip hitting the cabinet and the paper slipping from her fingers. “Zane.”
He stepped forward, looking big and angry, almost predatory. “Bonnie, I’m going to ask you again. What are you doing?”
Her mouth opened and closed. Shit. This looked bad. This looked like snooping.
Well, it looked like snooping because itwassnooping. “I came to talk to you. The front door was unlocked, but I couldn’t find anyone.”
“So you came in here to go through my stuff?”
“I can see how it would look that way.” Bad…it was bad. “I came in here looking for you, but then I saw the photos on the wall, and I…” She what? Got closer because she was nosy, then decided to bemorenosy and look at a document that was none of her business?
“You need to leave.” He turned and started walking—no,stormingaway.
Crap, crap, crap.Not the way she’d rehearsed this morning.
“Wait, I’m sorry.” She took off after him.
He didn’t stop, slow, or answer, just went straight to the front desk. A door somewhere else in the building opened, then Stetson walked out of the hall. “We better not miss trash day. Those trash cans are filling up.” Stetson grinned at her. “Bonnie, you’re back.”
“You left the front door unlocked,” Zane called from behind the front desk, eyes on the computer screen.
Stetson cringed. “Sorry, boss.”
Bonnie stopped on the other side of the desk. “Zane, please. I’m really sorry.”
