This Year's Black (Killer Style 2)

Ryder’s stomach twisted. Whatever was coming next, she wasn’t going to like.

“I once filed a report very similar to this one.” The officer faltered, but only for a moment, then an unconvincing smile appeared on his face. “I’ve been in this wheelchair ever since.” He raised a hand. “Not that I’m saying you shouldn’t make your report. Just know there are consequences on this island for this type of action—even for a policeman. For a tourist whom no one here knows or will miss…”

Forget about having elephant cajones to establish a crime business front across from the police station. The Molina family obviously didn’t waste time worrying about the cops. If they could do whatever it took to put a cop in a wheelchair, they feared nothing.

“Thank God you weren’t more seriously injured by these…unknown hooligans,”othe officer said.

Devin crossed his arms, the motion making him grimace. “Are you going to investigate this at all?”

“Of course, but we are a small department.” The officer shrugged. “It may take some time before our detective can look into your allegations.”

Ryder couldn’t believe the Molina assholes were going to get away with it all, and probably not for the first time. But it looked like that was exactly what would happen—unless she and Devin did something about it. “I see.”

“I hope you do,” the cop murmured.

Devin pushed up from his chair and headed for the door. Ryder followed suit. A police cruiser pulled into the parking lot as they pulled out. The two officers inside gave the Jeep a long, hard stare before one of the cops winked. His smile was anything but friendly.

Obviously, there wasn’t much else she and Devin could accomplish through official channels. Whatever happened next, it was up to them.

Chapter Eleven

“I think it’s the responsibility of a designer to try to break rules and barriers.”

— Gianni Versace

Fifteen minutes later, Devin’s silent treatment was about to make Ryder nuts. If it wasn’t for the birds chirping, there wouldn’t have been a sound inside the vehicle as he steered the Jeep down the same highway the Palm Inn was located on. Frustrated aggression rolled off him in swells big enough to flatten her curly hair into stick-straight strands.

Well, he wasn’t the only one pissed off at the world right now. Staying quiet after the crap sandwich they’d just been served had her twitchy, but despite her attempts to get a conversation going, Devin had completely ignored her—unless you counted him double-checking her safety belt, which she did not. At the pineapple farm, they’d clicked as if they’d been working together for years. No second thoughts. No second guessing. Everything right the first time. Now the pendulum had swung back to fractious, and it pissed Ryder off more than she wanted to admit. The inability to run away from or punch the annoyance had her as edgy as her dog during a thunderstorm.

Keeping her focus on the sidewalks and buildings they passed, watching for signs of trouble, she decided to give it one more shot before the tension ate a hole through her stomach lining.

“Where are we going?” Walking away from a half dozen black tank tops and a few pairs of jeans wasn’t going to kill her. However, finding members of the Molina family or the winking cop in her room just might. “We can’t go back to the hotel.”

“Agreed.”

One syllable was an improvement compared to silencer mode, but she was going to strangle him with her shoelaces if he didn’t form a full sentence soon. “So, are you going to tell me, or do I need to finish the job those goons started?”

He suddenly grinned, and it was 100 percent pure, cocky, testosterone-driven jock. “You really think you can take me?”

“Without a doubt.” Okay, maybe a little doubt.

His fingers relaxed against the steering wheel. “How about once we get back to Harbor City, I give you a chance?”

“Challenge accepted.” In reality, home was a world away, but at the moment, it felt like it was in another solar system. “Now spill, where are you driving us?”

“I found a tent and camping supplies in the back of the Jeep yesterday when I grabbed our bags. Must be included in the rental. We can camp in the nature preserve outside of town.”

Not surprisingly, the idea of roughing it seemed more appealing than it had the other day. The Molina family had located them at the Palm Inn despite the fact that they’d registered as Mr. and Mrs. Fitzsimmons. Even if they could find a room in another hotel, which was doubtful, it wouldn’t be long before Sarah’s family knew exactly where they were.

And this time they wouldn’t stop at taking incriminating photos of her and Devin getting down and dirty.

While he drove, she grabbed her tablet from the glove compartment, pulled up the Maltese Security encrypted messaging system, and began typing.

Carlos, I need a GPS track put on Sarah Molina’s cell. The number’s in the file.

She hit enter and waited. If she knew their tech guru, he’d be glued to a screen somewhere. A notification beeped a few seconds later.

Consider it done.