Page 32 of Sentinel's Kiss

“Is that supposed to mean anything to me?” Sentinel gripped the wheel and twisted. Ashley was a reporter. A reporter couldn’t be sniffing around the shit they did. His dick was making decisions that his brain should be because he was starting to think about having Ashley in his life as more than a booty call.

“She was Bryce Fallon’s victim.”

Sentinel grunted. “What about her?”

“She dyed her hair black a few days ago.”

Sentinel slid a glance over to Ryder. “Is that why you colored your hair?”

“I’ve been monitoring her social media. She’s been very depressed and understandably so, ever since the decision came down. So I also checked her browsing history.”

“I’m not even going to ask how you can do that.”

“It’s better not to know. But she was researching ways to kill people and make it look like an accident.”

“So why were the cops all over you instead of her?”

“Because I deleted her browser history. And last night while I bought a round of shots for the off-duty Suffolk County cops, I altered the security camera footage of her tampering with Bryce’s brakes outside the nightclub he was partying at so that it looked a lot like me. Then I sent it to Travis anonymously with a note that said, ‘Here’s the proof you’ve been looking for.’ And Travis took the bait.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why do you want to call attention to us like that?”

“I want to make him look like an idiot so no one believes him and they think he’s chasing down a grudge.”

“And when they go over the video with a fine-tooth comb and find out it’s been tampered with, what happens then?”

“I rigged it to erase. No one is going to look too hard for answers.”

“Except Munson.”

“Not his jurisdiction.”

“When has that ever stopped him?” Sentinel gritted his teeth.

“I also might have mentioned to the cops that Travis and I slept together and he wasn’t taking the breakup well.”

“Ew, you slept with Munson?” He looked at her as horror and disgust filled him. Sure, he knew she must have had sex once or twice in her life, but he didn’t want to know about it.

“No, of course not,” she said. “Not yet.”

If he could bang his head against the steering wheel without cracking the car up, he would. “This isn’t like you.”

“She deserved her revenge,” Ryder said quietly.

“It wasn’t enough that we were going to take care of it?”

“No.”

“You could have altered the feed to make it look like Mickey Mouse was slashing the brake lines. Why make it look like you?”

“Travis is a bulldog. This was a perfect way to achieve all of our goals. The mark is dead. The Judge should be satisfied. The victim has her revenge. Travis has been discredited.” Ryder dusted her hands off. “All in a day’s work.”

“I still think it’s too much attention on us.”

“On me. And I was never near Bryce’s car.”

“What about Beatrice?”

“I sent her some stuff to reverse the color of her hair. If she has a brain in her head, her hair is as blond as mine used to be.”