My gaze wanders around his ridiculously big office space as I walk deeper through the foyer. This place is definitely way more than what he needs, but men like Orlando are all about comparing the size of their dicks. They have to have the biggest and the best to compensate for the fact that he ain’t shit.

  There’s an extravagant reception area with a few chairs set out for clients to wait, and as I walk past the foyer and into the main part of the office, I find ten separate offices, all separated by glass panels with their own little secretary desk right outside the door. It looks like a scene out of Suits, though Orlando can only dream about being that successful.

  There’s one massive office at the end, and I press my lips into a tight line.

  Bingo.

  I make my way into his office and shake my head as I take it all in. Extravagant doesn’t even begin to cover it. There are two separate lounge suites, an attached conference room, a bar, and of course his desk is surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. I suppose this is what you get for being one of the top lawyers in the country.

  It’s a shame I’m about to fuck that up for him.

  Not wanting to be here any longer than necessary, I start hunting, his office becoming my playground. I go straight for his desk and power on his computer, and as it does its thing, I start digging through the drawers, yanking them open and quickly rifling through them. Only there’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that’s going to give me what I’m looking for. But why would it? Orlando wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave shit like that laying around for anyone to find. Especially with the kind of people he’s been dealing with.

  I search the desk from top to bottom, even going as far as to make sure there are no hidden compartments. When I find absolutely nothing, I move onto the computer, only to be hit with a six-digit passcode. “Well fuck,” I mutter, staring at the blank screen.

  What the hell could it be?

  I start to type in Mom and Orlando’s wedding date and get halfway before I hit delete. It’s definitely not that. He doesn’t care for Mom enough to have it as a passcode. Hell, I bet he doesn’t even remember what the date was. But what else could it be? Jensen’s birthday? The number of cases where he’s narrowly escaped the law? Fuck, who knows?

  “Think, think, think, think,” I murmur, glancing around his office for some kind of clue when I see a framed photograph of his first wedding to Jensen’s mom, the one that actually mattered. A grin stretches across my face. “Gotcha, motherfucker.”

  Now, the only issue is figuring out when the hell they got married. Though, I’m sure it’s nothing Google can’t handle.

  Three minutes later, I’m in.

  I start digging through files and programs, not having a damn clue what I’m actually looking for, but there’s bound to be something. The only issue is, this is a go-hard-or-go-home situation. If I find only one document proving he’s a dirty lawyer, he’ll find a way to get out of it. What I need is substantial evidence, something the police cannot ignore, even the dirty ones who’ve been paid off. I need an open and shut case.

  Fifteen minutes quickly turns into two hours when I finally come across a locked folder titled Vacation. Call me crazy, but the only people who need to lock their vacation pics are the ones who are going on those vacations with someone other than their wives.

  When I click on the folder, another password pops up, and I let out a heavy sigh as my fingers dance carefully across the keys. Access Denied. Of course, it wouldn’t be his wedding date again; that would be too easy. It tells me I’ve only got two more tries before permanently locking me out.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, before pulling out my phone. I scroll down my contacts until I find Logan’s name and hit call.

  It rings three times before he answers. “Bri?” he questions, a strange tone in his voice. “You good? You never call me.”

  “Yeah,” I say, hearing Jax in the background with a bell. I mean, damn. Who the hell gave that idiot a bell? “I, um … shit. This is going to sound bad, but you’re good with computers right?”

  “Yeahhhhh,” he says slowly.

  “Say I found a locked folder and didn’t know the password. How would I break into that?”

  There’s a pause as he considers his response. “You’re not fucking around on Tanner’s computer are you? Because you’re cool and all, but I’m not about to help you go searching for dirt on my cousin.”

  “Why? What’s on Tanner’s computer that I need to know about?”

  I can picture the look on his face as he stumbles to find the right words. “Oh, um, nothing. I just … you know, in case you might have been snooping around and found something you shouldn’t.”

  I scoff. “As if I’d do that to him,” I tell him. “Besides, I’m not interested in seeing the dick pics you’ve sent him over the years. This is something else, but I swear, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t important.”

  “Shit, okay,” he finally says. “What kind of computer is it?”

  Logan rattles off instructions and it takes me far too long to understand what the hell he’s trying to say, but the minute I’m in, my heart starts to race. “Hoooooooly shit,” I breathe, hitting the jackpot. “I’m in,” I tell Logan. “I’ll talk to you later. Thanks for your help.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, ending the call and leaving me to my pot of gold. I search through the files, each one more horrendous than the last, but as I come across a sub folder labeled MORGAN, my stomach begins to cramp. Images upon images of that night fill the screen, and my heart shatters. I came here hoping to find this, but I didn’t consider how it would feel to actually see the horror of what happened inside that house.

  Not wanting to see anything more, I select all of them and hit delete before moving across to the trash can and permanently deleting them all from the system, making it impossible for Orlando to recover the files. I remove the sub folder as though it was never there and just as I wipe the tears off my face, another sub folder catches my attention.

  ASHFORD

  Sucking in a gasp, my brows furrow and I open the folder. My hand covers my mouth and my chest starts to ache, finding the screen filled with videos and still photos of my mother working as a prostitute. I flick through the pictures, the tears streaming down my face. She would have only been fifteen or sixteen in these images, much younger than I am now. Her skin is pale and her cheeks hollow. She has dark bags under her eyes and her hair looks as though it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Not to mention the bruising and needle marks inside her elbow.

  I can’t bear to look at it another second and drop the whole folder into the trash can, permanently deleting the files just as I’d done with the evidence against Tanner. I make a vow to myself never to bring this up, never to burden my mother by letting her know what I saw here. I don’t want to destroy her.

  This right here will go to the grave with me.

  Letting each of the images fall from my memory, I insert my flash drive and copy every last remaining file from the locked folder.

  After getting everything I need, I slip the flash drive into my pocket and turn off the computer before standing up and checking over his desk, making sure every last thing is exactly how I left it. I can’t risk Orlando finding out I was here.

  Confident that everything is just right, I stride toward the office exit, pausing when a canvas on the wall catches my eye. It’s a picture of a big vase filled with tulips, and while it’s a gorgeous print, there’s something off-putting about it the longer I stare.

  It hits me a moment later. Orlando’s whole house doesn’t have one cheap art print, and certainly no cheap frames. I mean, sure, the whole place is decked out with extravagant artwork by famous artists, but he’d never hang a vase of flowers on the wall. It’s not his style. This print seems like some kind of quick fix, as though he’s hiding something.

  The second the thought makes its way through my head, I step up to the wall and grip the sides of it. The fucker is heavy but nothing I can’t handle.

  Setting it down on the ground, I stare up at the wall, a grin plastered across my face. Today really is my lucky day. What are the chances of hitting a jackpot twice?

  Orlando’s safe stares back at me, and I crack my knuckles, more than ready to get to work.

  My fingers shake over the keypad as I inhale slowly. One mistake and it could be all over. I hold my breath, cautiously punching in each number of the anniversary date. There’s no way to know what he keeps in here, but I assume there are hard copies of the evidence against Tanner, and I’m not about to let those fall into the wrong hands.

  Entering the last two digits is like stepping out of a plane, not knowing if your parachute is going to open, but when the safe makes a beeping sound and the light flashes green, I almost piss my pants out of pure relief.

  Grabbing the handle, I quickly turn it and pull it open, only to have to catch the files as they begin to spill out. “Holy shit,” I breathe, quickly arranging them to be able to hold them better and seeing the names of old cases scrawled across the front of the manila folders.

  It’s everything I just saw in the locked folder on his computer and knowing just what these papers could do for Tanner and my mom, I take every last one of them, clearing out the safe before closing the door and rehanging the cheap flowers.

  My heart races as I double back to the door, pausing to look over the office. Everything is right where it should be. I just have to hope Orlando doesn’t decide to go searching through his safe before I have a chance to do something with these.

  After double-checking the flash drive is securely in my pocket, I lock up the office as though I was never here and hurry out to the parking lot. I unlock the stupid Maserati Orlando gifted me, feeling sick for having to use it, but what other choice did I have? Tanner doesn’t exactly know what I’m up to right now, and after running his Mustang into Roxten’s bitch ass, it’ll be out of order until the body shop is able to complete the repairs, though it’s really only the windshield that took most of the damage. Besides, there’s something sweet about using the Maserati to get revenge.

  Without a moment to waste, I dump the files on the passenger seat and get my ass moving. On the way back to Tanner’s place, I haphazardly make a last-minute right turn instead of a left, driving back toward downtown. I’m almost on autopilot when I pull up outside the precinct, not sure if I can stomach what I’m about to do, but when it comes to Tanner and my mom, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to protect them.

  A thick silence settles over me when I cut the ignition. So much could go wrong here. The file folders I have pulled into my lap are heavy, and I imagine walking in there and putting this all into the hands of a dirty cop, but I have to take my chances. I have to try, even if it means slamming these papers down and making a scene so that every last cop in the building knows what’s happening. They can’t all be in Orlando’s pocket, can they?

  Thumbing through the files, I take out the ones that incriminate Tanner, but as I scan through them, I find a folder labeled JACOBS, and my curiosity shoots right through the roof. I can’t wait and pull the file out of the big pile, setting it on my lap and quickly thumbing through it. There’s a shitload of paperwork and evidence from the night Addison was raped. Evidence that never saw the light of day, but the one piece of paper that has my attention is the report from the rape kit confirming a perfect DNA match for Colby Jacobs.

  Gotcha, motherfucker.

  Not wanting to risk this document falling into the wrong hands and disappearing again, I pull out my phone and take photos of every last page before closing the folder and resting it right on top of the pile. Having everything in order with the people I love protected, I let out a shaky breath, grab the pile of manila folders, and make my way into the precinct.

  The Maserati drives like a wet dream on a late summer’s night, and it’s a shame it’ll get locked back in the garage, never to be touched again. A smile rests across my face, and with every new street I turn down, I crank the music up, never feeling so elated in my life.

  Orlando Channing is going down, and everyone I love will receive the justice they deserve.

  I fly down the street—past the tree that still holds the scars of my Honda slamming into it—and turn onto my road. As I pass Tanner’s house and pull into Orlando’s driveway, my very pissed-off boyfriend pushes off the edge of his mother’s car. He’s staring at me with crossed arms and a dark expression—as if he knows exactly what I’ve been doing.

  I swallow hard and consider hitting the gas and taking off again, but Mom and Orlando will be back soon enough, and the last thing I want is to get caught in the act.

  Pulling into Orlando’s driveway, I sit patiently, waiting for the garage door to open all the way before slowly creeping in, and by the time I cut the engine and get out of the car, Tanner is right there, his calculating stare locked on mine. “What the fuck are you doing?” he questions.

  I give him a wide smile. “Oh hey,” I beam, guilty as shit. “I thought you were working out with the guys?”

  “That was hours ago,” he states, fixing me with a hard stare. “What are you doing?”

  I try to smother a smirk as I narrow my eyes at him. “Why?” I question, more than prepared to be a shady bitch. “What do you think I’m doing?”

  Tanner rolls his eyes and drops his arms. “Babe,” he says with a pointed stare. “Why were you calling Logan and asking how to break into locked files?”

  My mouth drops and I gape at him. “That little snitch.”

  “Bri,” he warns, trying to get me back on track.

  I shake my head and let my smile fly free before nodding toward Orlando’s front door. “Come on,” I tell him. “There’s something we need to do.”

  His brows furrow, but I take off before he gets a chance to stop me. With no one home, Tanner races after me as I hurry through the house, beelining for the one room I’ve never been in—Orlando’s home office. “Killer,” Tanner says, following me into the obnoxiously big office. “What the fuck is going on? We shouldn’t be here. It’s only going to backfire on us.”

  I whip around, fixing him with a wide smile as I tear my phone out of my back pocket and bring up the images of the rape kit report. “Look what I found today,” I tell him, handing it over before digging out every last incriminating photograph of him in Hope Falls and dropping it onto Orlando’s desk.

  Tanner’s brows furrow as he reaches over to take my phone, flicking through the pictures, and the more he sees, the quicker his lips pull into a victorious smile. “Where the fuck did you get this?” he questions, before skimming over the photographs on the desk. “Are these—”

  “Every last hard copy I could find,” I tell him.

  “What?” he questions. “How?”

  I glance away, knowing he won’t like what’s about to come out of my mouth. “I, uhhh, may have broken into Orlando’s office and wiped his computer clean of everything to do with you while also maybe copying every incriminating document onto a flash drive and handing it over to Detective Daniels.”

  His eyes bug out of his head. “What?”

  “Yeah, good times,” I grin, all too proud of myself. “Raiding his safe was the cherry on top though.”

  Tanner presses his fingers to his temples, pacing the office. “Holy fuck,” he breathes before snapping his head back to me. “You showed them these pictures?” he questions, waving my phone around.

  “No,” I tell him. “They’re our personal copies, but I made sure to give them the original report, signed and dated by whoever the dude was that tested the rape kit.”

  Tanner storms into me, grabbing me around the waist and yanking me into his strong chest, the happiness in his eyes warming everything inside me. “She’s going to get her justice.”

  I nod, looking up at my whole damn world.

  His lips crash against mine, but before we get carried away, I push against his chest, pulling back from his kiss. He looks down at me, his brows furrowed in concern, but I quickly clear things up. “Umm, so, now that the cops have everything they need, I can almost guarantee they’ll be getting a warrant to raid this place, and I kinda figured we should double-check it first and make sure there are no more photos of you at … you know.”

  His eyes widen, realization dawning. “Oh fuck,” he says, his arms falling from around my waist as his gaze starts shifting around the office. “Where?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “Look for a safe,” I tell him as I dart around the back of his desk. “I’ll check the computer.”

  Twenty minutes later, Tanner swipes his arm across Orlando’s desk, watching as everything goes flying across the room, computer and all, and not a moment later, he slams my chest down against the mahogany table, naked as the day I was born.

  Smoke fills the room as every last piece of evidence against Tanner burns to ashes on the carpet, but all that matters is the way he kicks my legs wide.

  “Oh God,” I groan, his hand coming down against my bare ass with a hard spank as the other curls around my hair, pulling my head right back. Then before I can even tell him how I want it, he lines his thick cock up with my dripping entrance and slams it deep inside me.

  “Fuuuuck, Killer,” he groans, that deep rumble doing unspeakable things to me.

  He fucks me hard and fast, knowing at some point we need to get out of here before the smoke kills us, but he’s determined to make me come first.

  Tanner slams inside of me, stretching me wide and pushing me to my limits as my body crumbles to his every will. My hand grips the edge of the desk, holding on for dear life as my eyes roll in the back of my head. “Yes, Tanner. YES! More.”