“He’s paying them? The media? To keep it quiet?”

“Three hundred thousand dollars are on hold in his private bank account. The one where he pays everyone from.” She crosses the room to the large desk in the corner and pulls a book from the case next to it. She opens the book, removes something that looks like a key from the middle of it, and inserts it into one of the drawers.

Wow. I didn’t think people actually did that.

Alyssa crosses the room to me with a small pile of papers all stapled together. “These are the transactions he’s made over the last two years. They’re all over the place. To the media, his assistant Ellis, and several sex clubs around the country, including D.O.M. It’s all corruption to protect himself. There’s even a payment he made to Nick when he realized that Nick knew about him and Natalie. He paid him to keep quiet.”

“He didn’t,” I tell her, taking the statements from her.

“I know. I paid him not to.” Her lips curve to the side. “And I paid him more.”

Oh, to have money to throw away like that.

“Take them.” She taps the papers. “I’m certain my husband isn’t the person you’re looking for—he’s an asshole, but he isn’t evil. Unravel his ridiculousness and I’m sure you’ll find yourself one step closer.” She takes a deep breath, regret fluttering across her face. “I’m sorry I can’t tell you more about the tapes. Your photos are copies of mine. That’s all I need to divorce him.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly, slotting them into my purse. “I’m sorry you have to do this.”

“Don’t be. I’m not. I’m sorry I married a bastard.”

This is fucked up.

The level of corruption the mayor has been working at is far higher than anyone ever suspected. The amount of money he’s paid to sex clubs to remove his details from their system and keep quiet about his attendance and sexual appetite is way into the millions. I think the last count was hovering around two million, and that’s in two years.

How often does this man travel to have something different? How far is he willing to go to escape the confines of D.O.M.? Is he traveling so he can practice erotic asphyxiation in other places? It’s obvious now that he was Natalie’s partner in that particular area of their desires. As well as Vince, of course. And the person who killed both of them had to be aware of that.

Was the mayor attracted to men, too?

Ah—but that wouldn’t make sense, would it? Surely he wouldn’t have time to get down to his briefing with his campaign team if he’d killed Natalie. Besides, the figure on the tape doesn’t match his.

I think we’re looking at a guy—someone who could have overpowered Vince. Devin did see a figure on the D.O.M. tapes enter Vince’s room and stay for approximately two hours. To be that level of intimate, the guy would have had to be bisexual. Unless, of course, it was more about pleasure through pain than penetration.

Which brings me right back to Nick. Paid by the mayor to keep quiet. Paid by the mayor’s wife to essentially do what he wants. Nick still has the best motives to kill them both as far as I’m concerned. He hated Natalie because she’d betrayed him and he hated Vince because Vince was the reason she’d done it. And he wanted to be with Madison but not have her relationship with Natalie affected, so this killed two birds with one stone.

Uh... I probably shouldn’t use that phrase again while discussing this case.

The only flaw in the Nick plan is that the guy despises their lifestyle. The last time I saw a disgust like that was...well, never. I also can’t imagine him as a guy who’s attracted to guys. There is the saying that it’s always the hot ones, I know, but I don’t think anyone can fake his distaste of BDSM.

Which basically means that, even with the discovery of the tapes, I still have nothing, and I’m not counting on the mayor’s bank statements to give us much of anything.

I press the heels of my hands into my eyes. This is Lena and Daniel’s case all over again. Twist after twist that all throw each other off course.

For the first time, I’m doubting my ability to solve this case. I was so certain that the discovery of the pictures and tapes would make everything fall into place. I mean, a little DNA would be helpful, too. Even just from the car. It’s the one time when sharing a lab with the Austin PD really fucking sucks. They’re right there, bugging the hell out of their forensics team so everything is done first and we’re their afterthought.

“You’re allowed to look somewhere other than at this case file, you know.”

I rest my cheek on my hand and meet Drake’s eyes. “It’s really, really pissing me off. And so is the fact that you won’t let me go and investigate tonight.”

“Sweetheart, you’ll likely shoot them both to get your information. I can’t deal with any more dead bodies right now.”

“You say that like I’m trigger happy,” I grumble. “I’m enthusiastic, okay? I haven’t shot anyone for weeks now, and that was only because he was going to shoot me first.”

Drake leans forward, his shirt stretching over his muscles. “I don’t think Marshall would have shot you.”

“Really? Because he poisoned and tortured two people and tried to do it a third time, and one of them was his own stepmother,” I remind him, the memory making me shudder. “You didn’t see him. He looked absolutely feral. I think he would have shot me without a second thought.”

“You know, it always bothered me that he tried to shoot you.”

“Well, funnily enough, I find myself somewhat bothered by that, too.”

He snorts. “No, not that kind of bothered. Well, that kind of bothered, too, but it always bugged me that he poisoned the others but tried to shoot you. Why would he do that?”

I frown. “Because he poisoned them with salads and everyone knows I don’t eat salad.”

The curve of his lips is slow. “Is that your new life advice? Stay alive, don’t eat salad!”

“Uh, yeah. I’m actually considering writing a book and the first piece of advice will be: Eat pizza. We’re going to die anyway. Why risk a salad?”

“It occurs to me that, if you didn’t have tits and a vagina and a ridiculous shoe obsession, you could be a man.”

I press my lips together and look side to side for a moment. “I’m not sure if I should be offended by that. I think I should. Maybe. Where are you goin’ with that, huh?”

“Nowhere!” Drake leans back in his chair, laughing, and holds his hands up. “I’m just sayin’.”

“Hey—we haven’t fought once today. Don’t ruin it now.”

Wow. We’ve almost gone a whole day without fighting. Go us.

“Maybe this is what happens when we work together instead of against each other.” His eyes glitter.

“And when your ex-fiancée isn’t in town.”

“That sure helps, too.”

I bite the inside of my lip. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought her up.”

“Apologizing again? Twice in one week? Are you sick?”

I open my mouth and close it again when I see the teasing smirk of his lips. “Shut up,” I mutter. “Can we get back to work now? Please?”

Drake stands, nudging the chair as he does, and walks around my desk. My heart stutters as he stalks toward me, a devilish glint that matches the sexy upturn of his lips in his eye.

“Sure,” he murmurs. “In a minute.”

He spins me until I’m facing him then leans down, grasping the arms of my chair. My eyelids drop as he moves in so close that is mouth is barely hovering above mine, so close that the slightest twitch from either of us will have our lips touching.

I wait, my breathing speeding up, my stomach erupting in butterflies, for that touch. For that one little brush of his mouth across mine.

It doesn’t come.

“You’re right,” he whispers, instead sweeping his mouth across my cheek as he turns his head toward my ear. “We should work right now.”