Power Play - Tiffany Snow Page 0,34

I explained. “We leave Monday.”

Ryker leaned forward. “Really. So what new clients?”

“Um, I’m not really supposed to discuss our clients,” I hedged. “Privacy and such.”

“I’m sure you could tell me a little bit without breaking any rules,” he teased. “They’re in New York then?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, wondering at his sudden interest. “But they’re Russian, I think.”

Ryker’s gaze sharpened. “Russian, eh? So are they with some corporation or bank?”

Now alarm bells were going off. There was no earthly reason why Ryker should want to know about some new clients of Parker’s.

The man’s words from last night echoed in my head. It occurred to me that maybe I should tell Ryker about it—he was a cop, after all—but I also knew he might think Parker was doing something illegal, even though he wasn’t, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Have you found anything out about who killed Mr. Hinton?” I asked, changing the subject. “Or how they even got in the building?”

Ryker turned his body toward me, resting an arm behind my shoulders on the back of the booth. My pulse rate shot up at his proximity and I avidly drank in the up-close view of his chest and arms. Tearing my gaze away, I looked up to find his blue eyes glinting knowingly. Yes, Ryker was very much aware of his appeal, which should have been a turn-off, but wasn’t.

“Well, I’m not supposed to talk about that,” he teased. “Unless you want to exchange information, then I might be persuaded to share.”

My eyes narrowed. “That’s not fair.”

“I never said I was fair, sweetheart.”

How Ryker could get away with calling me “sweetheart,” I had no idea. I should be pissed with righteous indignation at the condescending endearment. Should being the operative word. All I really wanted was to hear him say it again, only in a growly way. Minus his shirt.

“It’s just a new client, that’s all,” I said with a shrug. “I think Mr. Hinton was going to handle the account, but now Parker’s doing his job until the firm hires someone else. They’re based overseas—in Moscow—and Parker’s meeting with some of the head guys in New York this week.”

The playboy persona was gone now, Ryker’s expression serious as I told him this, and I felt a niggling of apprehension. But I hadn’t divulged anything private, not really.

“Your turn,” I urged him.

“The shooter got into your building by hacking the security,” Ryker replied. “Very sophisticated, very hard to do, and proving impossible to trace.”

Wow. That wasn’t what I’d been expecting.

“Listen, Sage, I’m going to come clean with you,” Ryker said. That made my ears perk up. Come clean? What was that supposed to mean? “I think you’re the kind of girl who does the right thing. Am I right?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, confused now. What did this have to do with anything?

“I’ve been on this one case for a while,” Ryker said. “The Russian mob has a strong presence here in Chicago, and we’ve been working on shutting them down, or at least making a dent in their organization. But they have their tentacles everywhere, and one way they keep themselves clean is by laundering their money through investment firms, just like the one where you work.”

A sinking sensation in my stomach told me I knew where this was going.

“We don’t have anyone on the inside who can help us,” he continued, “and we can’t get information without a subpoena, but to have a subpoena, you have to show cause, which we can’t do. Yet. I thought maybe you might be willing to help us. This client you have, the one out of Moscow, they may very well be a front for these people.”

And I was right. Ryker hadn’t been interested in me at all, at least, not in the way that had me dressing like a motorcycle slut on a Saturday night. That sinking sensation became an all-out ten-pound ball of lead.

“They’re awful people, Sage,” Ryker said. “They’re into everything bad you can imagine. From drugs, to guns, prostitution, human trafficking. You name it, they do it. And all the billions they make get funneled through banks in Europe and America, and come out squeaky clean on the other side.”

“What can I do about it?” I asked with a shrug. Yeah, it sounded awful, but I was just a glorified secretary with a nice title.

Ryker’s lips twisted. “You’re kidding, right? You work for the top investment firm in Chicago. Your boss is the number one name in town