“I have no doubt they missed something,” Ryker nods. “Especially if the mole was working the investigation.”
“You think they’re covering it up.”
He shrugs. “Maybe. We’ll know more when we get there.”
I look at my lady suit. “By the way, I hope you have an alternate form of transportation if we’re going in suited up today. Not sure this will survive the Harley.”
Ryker chuckles and feeds his arms into a suit jacket. My mouth dries up as I take in his outfit. The jet-black suit matches his hair that has been pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A white starched shirt is a backdrop for the indigo tie that perfectly matches his eyes. He gives the shirt’s cuffs a little tug, so they peek out the appropriate length from the sleeves.
It’s a sight to behold.
A perfectly-tailored sight to behold.
What did I tell you about be-holding him….
“What? Something wrong with my suit?” Ryker glances at his shoes. He’s wearing black biker boots that have been shined within an inch of their lives.
I cough. “Uh. No. I - uh - don’t remember the big box store carrying tailored suits, is all.”
He lifts a shoulder. “Told you. Keep some clothes here. I never know when business will bring me to D.C.”
“Ah,” I blow out a breath. “Yes. Keeping clothes at yourfriend’shouse. Seems smart. Let’s go.”
Ryker grabs a set of keys off the counter, and we head outside to an awaiting dark sedan.
I don’t question where it came from. I simply get into the passenger seat and buckle up. I have a feeling I’m in for a bumpy ride today.
Chapter 22
“I got jokes. Dad jokes. But jokes.”
-Ryker
Cat didn’t say much on the drive to Sheila’s condo, on the outskirts of D.C. It’s in a planned community that features a mix of single-family houses, condos, retail, and entertainment venues. Most of your needs would be met if you never wanted to leave the community. But how boring would that be?
I drive slowly around the block, looking for surveillance.
“Not seeing any,” Cat murmurs. “Park down the street, and we’ll slip in through the back gate.”
I do as she instructed. We check our weapons and head toward Sheila’s condo. We pause before entering the back door with a spare key Cat found in a nearby flowerpot.
“A spare key in a flowerpot?” I whisper.
“Why are we whispering?”
“Not sure,” I respond.
Cat grins and that smile lights up her whole face. I have to shake myself to get my head back in the game. We could be walking into danger, and I’m out here with my proverbial dick in my hand.
“Let me go first,” I touch her shoulder.
Cat flips me off then pushes into the condo.
It’s a two-story townhome that takes no time to clear. Not a lot of places for fuckers to hide. There’s barely any furniture in the place, and it doesn’t look lived-in.
The one room full of stuff? The office. And it’s a mess. Papers, boxes, drawers, lamps, you name it, they’re all thrown on the floor in a big pile.
“I see the Marshals did another bang-up job of keeping their footprint small,” Cat snorts and bends to begin going through the shit on the floor.
