The problem with today was that this morning was too damn good. More than the feel of his skin against Dev’s, their chemistry was off the charts. They were so right together, getting better and better all the time. He had no doubt they would last. He felt it in his bones. Cash let go of a sigh, tilting his head, remembering Dev’s sweet uncertainty as he fought to wear the condom.
“You’re not listening. Jeez, Cash, this is important,” Joe said, accusingly. His eyes popped open to see Joe’s frustrated expression staring at him.
“You found the accounting firm the club uses. You were about to give me their name,” he said in instant recall.
“Close,” Joe said in such a way to say he was way off base. “I told you the name. They use Pruitt, Pruitt, and Goldman. And you’re flushed. Are you blushing? Because you need to focus. We’re close…”
Cash cut Joe off, lifting his fingers to his cheeks, feeling the warmth, “Pruitt, Pruitt and Goldman sounds like a law firm.”
“Right. They are. They specialize in large corporate firms. They’re badass and have a big reputation. They consistently win against the revenue service. Certainly not the kind of firm who files income taxes for the five or six small businesses that the club owns,” Joe said and pushed back in his chair as he asked the question that always got them bouncing ideas off each other. “So why do they work with them?”
“I don’t know.” Out of all the answers he suspected about Dev’s taxes, he never… Wait. “The firm gives the club’s accounting credibility. That’s obvious.”
Joe rose from his seat and walked around the table in thought mode. He snapped his fingers, pointing at Cash. “Probably they’re the reason why no one from our side has delved too far down the taxes rabbit hole. The Pruitt’s don’t play. They’ll eat us up if we go at it wrong. Make a spectacle of the whole thing.”
Cash turned his body in Joe’s direction as he went into the kitchen. “So that means someone from Pruitt’s most likely involved? What’re they getting for the trouble? Drugs? Money? What?”
Even then it didn’t make sense. Why would such a prestigious firm rub elbows with an outlaw biker club?
“I don’t know,” Joe finally said, sounding as confused as Cash was. He opened the refrigerator door, glancing back at Cash. “If those are the reasons why, then the case got a whole lot more difficult. They’ll keep the government locked in court forever. Our grandkids won’t see justice. Maybe that’s why those bikers are so arrogant? They have a shield.”
“But how the case plays out isn’t our deal,” Cash said, pushing back in his seat and standing. He worked on tucking his dress shirt into his slacks properly. “If we can get a good lead, maybe it’ll stop the bleed of money. Maybe that’s enough. The club can do and be whatever it is, and we’re done.”
“I guess,” Joe said, brow wrinkled, clearly not on Cash’s same wavelength. He turned toward the contents of the refrigerator. “We don’t have any food. You’re slacking on the grocery runs.” He sent the refrigerator door flying shut as if that were his final straw. In the same dramatic flair, Joe pulled open the freezer. “We have ice and these smoothie cups and nothing else. I’m starving.”
When Joe’s frustrated glare landed on Cash, he shrugged.
As the huff continued, Joe opened and closed the cabinet doors. “We got nothing. Why do we have nothing to eat?”
Since he saw food in the cabinets, Joe was smart enough to see it too. And technically, it shouldn’t still be his responsibility to grocery shop. Joe wasn’t sequestered inside the apartment any longer, but Cash kept that bit of information to himself too.
“I’ll go get us something to eat.” The offer was so casually given, Cash hadn’t even created the plan for the ulterior motive behind the suggestion. Joe glanced at him skeptically as Cash got to his feet and reached for his phone, staring down at the small screen, his thumbs poised to type. “I’ll order Chipotle. I’ll get your burrito bowl. I have it saved on my app.”
Joe perked up, instantly losing the bad mood. “With two tortillas on the side?”
“Absolutely,” he said and placed the order before tucking his phone in his pocket. He started to pivot around, then glanced over his shoulder. “Get Shanna on the accounting firm. She’s our best bet to find out who inside the club deals with them.”
“It could all be happening inside the firm,” Joe called out as Cash started for the door. “Fox could be a pawn. You said yourself that they aren’t all that bright.”
Cash barely heard Joe as he continued out of the apartment, trotting down the stairs. “Hold that thought. We’ll talk when I get back. Let’s loop Shanna in before we make assumptions. She’ll most likely have the insight we need.” He rounded the corner of the last step in almost a jog. With a renewed pep in his step, he hightailed it out of the apartment in record time.
If he went fast enough, he could swing by the ink parlor, let his heart have what it wanted most and be back before Joe noticed he’d been gone too long.
In theory, it all worked out perfectly.
Chapter 22
The way Cash’s heart beat faster as he sat at the red light just beyond the bike shop brought an odd sense of peaceful havoc to his soul. He smiled as he looked around the area. A corner he’d gotten to know intimately while sitting for hours and hours in a planted beater vehicle, watching and listening after Dev’s safety.
The hookers who always adorned the corner were there.Seriously, when did they sleep?Dev had called this a twenty-dollar corner. As busy as those men and women were, they had to make a killing.
As he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting somewhat patiently to drive again, his cell phone rang. The Department of Justice appeared on the screen on his dashboard. He pushed accept as the line of cars in front of him slowly rolled forward.
“Cash Ryan,” he answered.
“Ryan.” Lily Collins. She was always professional, but even with the single word, she conveyed a sense of urgency, making him take notice. “I’ve gotten some disturbing intelligence that’s come across my desk. I’m not certain of the validity but I’m calling to let you know. I’m also sending an email to the security team you’re working with. It appears our time may be up. Something’s organizing quickly against the club.”
The air inside Cash’s sports car came to a standstill. His heart froze mid-beat. His gaze snapped to the entrance into the parking lot of Dev’s building.
