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“Were you the first to find it, or did Mr. Meyer ‘stumble’ on it separately?” Spencer asked, drawling the word stumble and making air quotes with his hands.
“You’ll have to ask him that,” Ryder replied.
Ryder deflected more inquiries that involved Montgomery until the detective asked about Montgomery’s background and purpose in the United States.
“I thought your boss told you not to dig too deep,” Ryder reminded him, the exhaustion of the night finally hitting him.
“I just want to know why a German billionaire entrepreneur is hanging around Seattle. And why he wants to cover up a dead body,” Spencer said, sitting up and shrugging as if anybody in their right mind would want to know that.
But Ryder had reached his limit.
“Are we done?” he asked.
Spencer looked down at his sparse notes, then nodded. The man looked at Ryder, his eyes turning quizzical.
“I guess,” Spencer said. “Is there anyone else I should talk to who isn’t in that room?”
Ryder stared Spencer in the eye and smiled.
“Nope,” he replied, then stood before Spencer could speak. “You’ve got my number if you have any more questions.”
“I do,” Spencer agreed, and flashed him a grin. A grin that reminded Ryder once again of Luke.
He waved at Montgomery but kept walking to the elevator, ignoring Montgomery’s call to come back.
He wanted nothing to come between him and sleep, preferably against Nita’s warm body. Fuck whether or not that was a good idea.
40
Nita woke up on Diesel’s couch, calm and well-rested despite whatever was poking her in the side.
“Hey, stop it,” she mumbled from under the pillow. When it didn’t stop, she tossed the pillow at whoever was poking her, not throwing it too hard in case it was Casey.
“You said to wake you up at six, and it’s 5:59,” Diesel said with a laugh, then whomped Nita in the head with the pillow.
“Ow,” she whined half-heartedly.
“Don’t you throw that back or you’ll knock over your coffee,” Diesel warned.
Nita rolled over on the couch, the chill air of Diesel’s basement suite settling over her.
“Gimme gimme,” she said, reaching for the mug Diesel held out.
“Do you need to shower?” Diesel asked.
“No, just change and go,” she replied, slurping loudly from the mug. “Woman, you make the best worst coffee ever.”
“Coffee isn’t doing its job if it isn’t strong enough to rip your head off,” Diesel agreed.
“Hm,” she murmured, swinging her legs off the couch. She adjusted Diesel’s oversized pajamas so they surrounded her feet and noticed what Diesel held in her hand. “That’s my Fuck Book.”
“Indeed it is,” Diesel agreed, waving it at her.
Nita looked around.
“Give that back. Casey might wake up any minute.”
“Casey’s sleeping upstairs with my parents,” Diesel said, whistling as she opened the book on her lap.
