Walking into Police Plaza seems like it’d be the scariest thing anyone could have to do on most days. In addition to the normal assortment of people under arrest who would rather be anywhere but Police Plaza, the officers are stoically hostile and I can feel their eyes roving up and down my body, judging me and questioning why I’m there with Ryker.

I know they’re all condemning me in their heads. Wife—well, now officially the widow—of the town’s biggest crime boss, now seen with the man who’s moving into his spot. It’s got to be raising some eyebrows, and if it weren’t that Ryker commands a lot of fear, I’m sure some of the tabloid scum around The Post would already be saying something.

Some of the officers we pass as we cross the ‘bullpen’ were loyal to Jacob, and with his murder, they probably suspect more than they can prove. I don’t care. I recognize one of the detectives on duty behind his desk. Back when he was a beat cop, he’d brought me home to Jacob even after I told him about the abuse. I think about saying something to Ryker about it but decide not to. It would just cause trouble that we don’t need.

I’m ushered into a Deputy Chief’s office and the secretary offers me a coffee, politely dipping her chin at my murmured refusal before leaving. In the silence, I glance over at Ryker. “Any reason you chose the blue suit?” I ask as he brushes a bit of dust off his pant leg. “Considering where we are?”

Ryker gives me an amused smirk. “Wanted to coordinate with the lingerie you’re wearing.”

I laugh, feeling a tremble of desire. It’s strange how just a slight change makes all the difference. If Jacob had said something like that, I’d have been shaking in fear. But with a slight change in tone and the look in his eyes, Ryker makes me feel like the most desired woman in the world. “Ryker—”

“Shh,” Ryker says, shaking his head as he points out the window. “What they know, and what they can prove, remember?”

It’s one of the lessons he’s taught me, although I already saw it in action with Jacob. The cops can know everything Ryker’s up to, and what I’m up to, but it doesn’t matter. The important thing is to make sure they can’t prove anything if they wanted to. And this office is most likely bugged.

A moment later, Deputy Chief Warren Matthews comes in, puffed up considerably in his dress uniform. His having us wait was probably part of his power play. “Hello, Mrs. Waters. Thank you for coming down.”

“Of course, Chief Matthews. But I’ve decided to go by my maiden name for now, so Desjardins, if you don’t mind.”

He hears the commanding tone to my voice and inclines his head thoughtfully, his eyes slowly moving toward Ryker. He seems to make an evaluation of the situation, although I’m sure he already had an idea of what’s going on. “I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss, Mrs. . . . Sarah,” he says. If he can’t use my last name, he’ll just cast his disrespect by using my first name only, I suppose. “Your husband was a very well-respected man in our city. He had many friends within our department and always supported us very well come fundraising time.”

I can feel the smarmy slickness as he speaks about Jacob like he was some honorable man who helped folks out of the goodness of his heart. I’m just about to give him a piece of my mind, sharing just what an abusive asshole Jacob really was, when Ryker places his hand over mine. Don’t, his eyes tell me calmly. Remember, he knows.

Ryker’s right. The Chief does know. All of the bullshit that he’s talking right now is for show. Matthews most likely got his position within the department by kissing the right asses. We live in that sort of town. And one of the asses he had to kiss the most was certainly Jacob Waters’s. So for Matthews, he’s worried about losing out on the gravy train. As if the six-figure salary he’s probably getting isn’t enough of a gravy train, considering how ineffective he is.

Instead of replying, I give Ryker a small nod of thanks. He gives my fingers a slight squeeze and looks at the Chief. “Chief Matthews, this is a difficult time, as I’m sure you’re aware. What, exactly, is it that you need from Miss Desjardins today?”

“I’m sorry, and you are?” the Chief retorts, as if everyone in the building didn’t know exactly who was walking in the front door as soon as we stepped out of the Towncar. It’s still there, parked blatantly in a ‘police only’ zone, with two of Ryker’s men standing guard, looking for all the world like Secret Service men. The innocent residents of the city must think the Vice President’s in town or something.

Instead of being rattled or offended, Ryker offers his hand in what appears to be a crushing handshake by the wince in Matthews’s face. “We already know each other very well, Captain Matthews, but perhaps you need a reminder. I’m Ryker Johns. We’ve met on numerous occasions, some good, some perhaps . . . less so.”

Matthews turns slightly red at the use of the title, ‘Captain’, and I remind myself to ask Ryker what the connection is. “Yes, indeed, we have. It’s been a few years. You look different now.”

“As do you,” Ryker replies. “Last time I saw you, you were wearing an off-the-rack suit that screamed ‘cop’ while looking very . . . uncomfortable in a back alley. The Deputy Chief’s uniform looks good on you. I definitely approved.”

The implied threat is clear, even in a simple use of the past tense, and I have to smirk. Ryker’s playing this man like a guitar, and the Chief is clearly in over his head. “Well, then, are you a friend of Mrs. Waters now?”

He’s returned to calling me by my married name. I’m not sure if it’s intentional or by accident, but the tension is damn near stifling as the men eye each other. Ryker replies with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. “Yes, Miss Desjardins and I are . . . friends. I’m supporting her in this difficult time. In a town like this, finding friends who will respect you is sometimes the difference between life and death.”

Matthews looks like he’s about to shit himself, either in anger at being threatened or in fear—I’m not sure which—as he turns to me. “You know, Mrs. Waters, if I may be so bold, I’d consider carefully the company you keep in this town. Your husband had quite the reputation, and with him barely in the grave, there are certain expectations for a widow.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, coldly furious. How dare this asshole tell me to consider my abusive prisoner of a husband now that I’m finally free of his controlling terror. I inhale deeply, preparing to lay into him, when I realize it’s a ploy. I can see the greedy excitement in his eyes. He‘s trying to needle me to say something I shouldn’t, and I need to shut this down.

I let out my breath and put on a smile that’s been dredged from the darkest portions of my brain, the areas that still remember what my ‘husband’ did to me. It’s a predator’s smile, and right now, I feel like Jaws himself would be scared of me. “Chief, I know better than anyone what my husband was. It’s my understanding that the investigation into his death is currently underway but you don’t really have any leads. If that’s right, am I needed for anything else? I have another appointment today, if that’s all this was about.”

Matthews flounders under my smile for a moment, visibly shaken that I didn’t lose my temper. Obviously, he thought he’d done enough to provoke me into saying something stupid. He was nearly right, but luckily, I realized before I stumbled into his trap. Ryker’s saying anything probably would’ve just set off more alarms. Still, the look he gives me as Matthews’s lip curls warms me even more inside.

“Well, no,” Matthews says. “Unfortunately, while our investigation is still in the beginning stages, there isn’t a lot that we can do. Associates of your late husband seem to have mistakenly cleaned most of the crime scene before our people were called in. Other than being able to say that your husband and the woman—”

“Constanza,” I interrupt. “Her name was Constanza, and she was the housekeeper.”

Matthews swallows. “Yes, of course. Other than being able to tell that they were killed with different bladed weapons, our forensics team has very little to go on. I’m not going to lie, Mrs. . . . sorry, Miss Desjardins, but I doubt we’ll ever be able to get justice for Jacob Waters. Still, we have detectives working on the case.”

“I’m sure you do,” Ryker says. “Are Detectives Schroeder and Lamonica on the taskforce?”

Matthews does his best to repress a growl, but he nods. “Yes, they’re two of our most senior homicide detectives.”

“I see. Well, I hope they can find the time for a thorough investigation after their lunchtime visit to The Fruit Stand is over.”

Matthews looks like he’s about to explode, but he says nothing. “Thank you for coming in. If any new evidence arises, we’ll notify you.”

I stand up, ready to leave. “Don’t lose a wink of sleep over my husband, sir. His justice was served.” The chief’s eyebrows raise, and I can tell he’s trying to decipher my statement. Before he can decide, I stand and offer my hand. “I trust that we won’t see each other again. Thank you.”

He nods his chin once. “Of course, Miss Desjardins. Please let me know if you need anything. Our department will help in any way we can for Mr. Waters’s widow.”

I don’t bother responding and simply walk out, Ryker following quietly behind me, although I can feel eyes watching us. Outside, his two men are still standing with the car, although with a wave of his hand, one of them turns and walks away. He’ll catch the subway back home.

Inside the car, I can’t take the stress anymore. I’m done for right now. I don’t care about the connection Ryker and Matthews have or what Ryker knows about the homicide detectives. Any of it. I collapse against Ryker’s chest as his arms pull me close. “Well, that was a huge waste of fucking time.”

“Yeah, but at least we got an idea where they’re at. Right now, the cops are still adjusting. For an old guard like Matthews, he’s scared and trying to figure out if we’ll play ball with him or if he needs to try and mount some sort of Quixotic crusade and come after us. That or just retire. After the dust settles, Marcus and I might need to do a little PR with the boys in blue and give them some reassurances.”

I sigh, and he rubs his hand over my hair, petting me, but somehow, it’s calming. Glancing up front, I see that the driver’s put up the privacy screen, so I wiggle closer and Ryker pulls me into his lap, his attentions turning more heated. He cups my face in his hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs as he looks into my eyes. “Listen to me. You did nothing wrong and Jacob got exactly what he deserved. And now, you will get the life you deserve if it’s the last thing I do.”

I smile, knowing he’s right and that I’m exactly where I should be—in his arms. “I have the life I want right this moment.”

Ryker smiles and covers my mouth with sweet, teasing kisses that both lighten my dark mood and turn the small ember of heat that I felt the entire interview, watching his powerful handling of the chief, into a roaring inferno. His tongue teases along the seam of my lips, lightly demanding entrance, and I obey, opening and entwining my tongue with his. He nibbles my bottom lip as his hand lifts to cup my breast, tantalizing the stiffening peak as I moan and press my breast higher for him.

This is so different from Jacob. Now, I want to be with him in the back of a car, tugging my skirt up to give him access to my body. I want to feel his hands on my skin, the feel of his tongue in the valley between my breasts, licking electric tingles across my body as I clutch at him.

Ryker moves to unbutton my top, and I turn to straddle him, my skirt pooling around my waist to let my legs rest outside his hips. I push my fingers into his hair, pulling him between my breasts, and wordlessly, he gives me what I want as he kisses along the top curve. He slides my top off, giving him more access to me, leaving me in just my bra. Instead of the falsely sexy Agent Provocateur lingerie Jacob forced me to wear, Ryker took me shopping on vacation, and I’m wearing one of those bras, a solid, slightly old-fashioned black cotton t-shirt bra that feels amazing. Ryker nibbles on my skin, his lips following each nip of his teeth to set my pulse racing even faster.

Pulling the left cup of my bra down, he groans at the sight of my hard nipple and dives in like a starving man, sucking and licking and making me mad for him. I feel him hard and throbbing between my legs, but patience is a virtue. “Mmm, that’s so good, baby. Make me feel . . . oh, God, Ryker.”

Repeating the movements on the other breast, I can’t help myself as I grind along the hard ridge of his cock through his pants. Ryker pulls back, reaching under my skirt to squeeze my ass cheeks and kiss up my neck to look into my eyes. “That’s it, honey. Rub that sweet little pussy on my fat cock. Arch your back for me, give me these pretty pink nipples, and grind your clit on me. That’s it, just like that.”

Just hearing him talk to me like that turns me on even more, and with a cry, I shatter. Shaking, I whimper as my orgasm ripples through me, Ryker pulling me tightly to him. He presses my body to his as he thrusts his cock against me, prolonging my orgasm even separated by layers of fabric. I’m boneless, suddenly exhausted from all the drama and tension, and of course, the amazing orgasm I just had in the back of a moving car. Ryker holds me, returning to running his hands through my hair.

It’s minutes later before I feel time start up again and the hum of traffic outside the darkened windows. It doesn’t matter. Ryker holds me secure as he helps me fix my bra and top. When I’m more or less put together again, he strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, looking deep into my eyes. “We’ve got this, Sarah. Everything’s gonna be fine. Okay?”

I smile, cupping his cheek. “As long as you’re with me, I know I’ll be safe.”