Kiko wasn’t done. “She knows how much you care about him, you’ve proven that you do. So maybe…”
Dawn allowed her hand to fall away from her head. “What? Maybe we can be best buddies and go shopping for back-to-school items together? Maybe we can have a Jamba Juice at the mall then go slay some vamps afterward?”
Harsh. But she didn’t know how else to take this. Any other reaction was an effort, an act.
“Listen, I’m not going to sit here and watch Breisi go through this.” Kiko’s face reddened. “That woman is like a sister to me, and I’d do anything to help her get Frank back.”
When Dawn met his eyes again, she could see the potential for the same kind of support for her. The desire to grab on to it almost shattered the fragile bones that propped her up.
But habit, year after year of rebelling, preserving, died harder than that. She knew she had to take care of herself without weakening, without glomming on to someone else.
Meeting him halfway, Dawn nodded, her thanks unspoken.
“Why don’t I finish cleaning up in here,” Kiko said softly.
His request was an encrypted one. He was actually asking her to go to Breisi. And he was right. Damn it, he was right.
Rising to her feet was like pulling herself out of a tar pit, difficult and slow.
“I’m just going to…” She gestured toward the door.
“Good.” Kiko smiled to himself and picked up another photo. “That’s good.”
Footsteps heavy, Dawn went to the kitchen, where she found Breisi sitting down, her phone laid neatly in front of her clasped hands. She was staring at the family room, her eyes red-rimmed, her face a blank, just like she was seeing the same memories Dawn had encountered in this house. When she spied Dawn, she blinked, jerked upright in her chair, started to say something and then stopped.
But even the forces of nature couldn’t keep Breisi from being Breisi.
After wiping her eyes, she started to spin the phone around on the table while launching into a quivering update.
“There’s lots to talk about, so listen. First, Marla Pennybaker left a message saying that she doesn’t know where Nathan is, either, so she’ll contact us when she hears something.” She swallowed, but kept on going, hell-for-leather. “Second, I got results from that skin sample I took from you last night. There were no traces of acid or burning agents in the vamp spit, so the temperature of it was actually that hot. And I was thinking I might be able to adjust those locators. I can see if they’ll sense that vamp spit, working on a temperature gauge or…something…” She faltered, but her hands kept going, waving around. Her voice followed. “That’s only an idea. And the boss—he’d like you to set up a meeting with that Matt Lonigan. And—”
This time her words crashed to a halt, a massive sob taking her over. Breisi buried her face in her hands, weeping.
Dawn walked to her, laid a tentative palm on Breisi’s head. The other woman grabbed on to her wrist.
In an effort to stay strong, Dawn glanced away, her gaze sweeping the house, taking in the family room where Breisi had been fixating her gaze: the couch, the TV, the coffee table, the stereo system with the old turntable. Another record that Frank used to play skipped over and over in her mind:
Big girls don’t cry…
Pressure built from her chest, to her throat, creeping upward in hard, tense heat….
Then she saw the ghosts again: her and her father dancing in the family room together, laughing.
Big girls don’t cry…
As a gush of moisture rolled out of one eye, Dawn pummeled it away with a slash of her fingers, reducing it to nothing.
“We’ll find him, Breisi,” she said, stroking the woman’s hair. “No matter what, we’re going to find him.”
Breisi wrapped her arms around Dawn’s waist, burying her face against Frank’s shirt and taking in his essence as his daughter held her.
Meanwhile, the night breathed, watching through the window.
Fogging the panes of the only fragile barrier that was keeping it from Dawn.
Fifteen
The Stand Off
Seven bucks for an iced tea,” Dawn said to no one in particular as she perused a menu the next day at Chez Rose, a bistro near the trendy Farmers Market.
She was seated outside, an umbrella fighting the waning sun, misters spraying huffs of moisture over her garlic-rubbed skin as she waited for Matt Lonigan. At Breisi’s urging and The Voice’s go-ahead, Dawn had called him early this afternoon to finally make an appointment with the PI.
The day had been another full one. She’d sent in a concealed weapons permit application that might not even be approved since the L.A. County Sheriff ’s Department wasn’t exactly known for giving out a lot of those. Afterward, she’d arranged to take a class for the permit and had done some shooting at a range with a supply of lead bullets—not the customized silver ones Breisi made—then arranged to meet Matt. Yes, Dawn Madison was turning into a regular Magnum, P.I.
“Seven ducats? That glass better come as big and roomy as your head,” said Kiko’s voice in the earpiece Breisi had given Dawn for this particular occasion.
“Cut the chatter,” said the techno geek herself.
Dawn changed position, facing Breisi, who was at the outdoor bar. Wearing a long black wig, she held a virgin strawberry daiquiri like it was a prop, yellow-tinted Tomb Raider sunglasses hiding eyes that would be trained on Lonigan. She was Dawn’s backup, extra help in case Lonigan got feisty, she supposed. As for Kiko, he was biding his time near the SUV in the parking lot, monitoring until Matt arrived.
And, somewhere in this town, The Voice was listening, too.
His deep, lulling tone nestled into Dawn’s ear, wrapping her in the remembrance of their last meeting: the lick of the ocean’s tide, the crash of a climax.
“Don’t mind the prices, Dawn,” he said. “Find out who hired him and see if he reacts to your garlic and crucifix. I want to know if there’s more to this man than first appears.”
“Got it.”
There was a pause, filled with a thousand chances for Dawn to guess what he was thinking. Then, “I’m going silent now.”
As the correspondence died, Dawn glanced over the top of her menu at Breisi, who subtly tipped her drink to her cohort, then made an effort to play barfly.
Dawn bit back a smile. There was a certain morning-after type thing going on with her and the older woman, an embarrassed tip of the hat to what had happened at Frank’s last night. There, after Breisi had cried it out, they’d all returned to business, knowing it was the only thing that would make them feel better about Frank.
So they’d double-checked his paperwork, confirming that he’d no doubt used cash for all his purchases so as not to leave paper trails. Thus, there were no spending patterns to give them a hint as to where he’d been lately besides Bava. At their wits’ end, they had returned to Limpet’s, believing that tracking down more of Robby’s old coworkers and visiting the places on Klara’s list to place locators for detection—all the while keeping an eye on Bava—would yield the best return on their investment of time.
When all was said and done, Dawn had crashed on Kiko’s couch again, laden with the question of whether or not she should move into Frank’s. Even now, she still had no idea if she could handle being there. The closest she could come to it was wearing one of the undershirts she’d filched from his room. It just felt right to have it on, the subtle weight of it an albatross, a second skin.
Dawn’s earpiece came to life.
“This should be our man,” Kiko said.
Oh so casually, Dawn set down her menu, pretending to tuck back a strand of hair over her ear at the same time she fixed her eyes on the entrance to the patio. Smoothness.
Moments later, Matt Lonigan sauntered to her table. Every stride reminded her of a boxer moving to the center of the ring, checking out his opponent from beneath a lowered brow. His light blue eyes assessed her, determining her mood,
predicting her reactions far in advance. He was dressed in new blue jeans, Doc Martens, a white T-shirt covered by an untucked short-sleeved khaki shirt that was unbuttoned. Dawn guessed that the last item was hiding his gun.
Her foot rested next to the bag she’d brought for her own weapons.
A veil of awareness—as thin as the water from the misters—fell over her, melting into her with waves of heat. Maybe it was Matt Lonigan’s talent for self-control, or maybe it was just because she was constantly on the prowl, but it was all she could do to bite back an inviting smile, a raging come-on.
“I was half afraid you wouldn’t show,” he said, arriving at the table.
He was holding out his hand, expecting her to shake it. Such the professional.
Dawn couldn’t help herself. She took her fingers, placed the tips of them in his palm, ran them gently over his skin. “Have no fear—I’m way better at showing than telling.”
In her ear, Kiko sharply cleared his throat, but The Voice’s silence was much more of a welcome scold.
Jealous?
But that was stupid. Sure, she was intrigued by her boss, but playing games with him was useless and inappropriate, even if it was engrained in her nature.
She forced herself to cut it out, concentrating on the fact that Matt hadn’t reacted to the garlic on her skin yet.
He’d ignored her spunkiness, too, folding himself into his chair, adjusting his seat so that his back was to a wall. Then he opened the menu, his gaze occasionally encompassing the patio, searching, never resting. It was almost like he knew he was under watch.
“How’s your case going?” Dawn asked, starting her mission in earnest.
“Rolling along. Yours?” He put down the menu.
Like she was going to spill all the beans. “It’s all diamond nights and caviar dreams, you know. Weren’t you the one who told me something about detective work’s lack of glitz?”
Before Matt answered, the waiter came to take their orders, then left them alone at a stubborn impasse.
During the silence he scanned her arm with the burns that had healed so quickly, then he continued to inspect the patio.
“So no sharing today, either.” She arranged herself in her chair so that his gaze was lured back to her and not the rest of the area—especially Breisi. He’d been checking out the bar, where her associate was listening. It made Dawn nervous.
Her ploy worked. Almost unwillingly, he locked onto her, the hint of attraction darkening his eyes.
There. The carnal interest made her feel a little more complete now. She had just enough time to hate herself for that before he answered.
“Listen, Dawn, I’d give anything to tell you what’s going on. But you’re never going to find out who’s retaining me. I mean it. Don’t waste your energy.”
Taming her disappointment, she took her time in tucking her hair behind her ear. His gaze followed. He shifted in his seat, obviously uncomfortable, desperate to get back to business.
It struck her that he might be kind of shy. Or was he just so damned one-track-minded that his life didn’t allow for diversions like giving in to what she was obviously offering?
Shit, she had no idea how to deal with a guy like this.
At that point, a sunglassed Kiko wandered into Chez Rose, right over to Dawn’s table. Damn it, she’d begged him to leave those dipwad lenses in the car.
“Hey,” she said, feigning surprise at seeing him.
“Hey, Dawn, I forgot to give you…” Kiko handed her a credit card, then acknowledged Matt. “Lunch money.”
Acting! she thought. Kiko was in his element right now.
“I’ve got the bill covered,” Matt said.
Like a real pro, Kiko stuck out his hand in greeting. Dawn held her breath, anticipating the reading he might get.
When they shook, Kiko’s expression didn’t change. Instead, he turned to Dawn. “I’ll be at the office, waiting. Paperwork, paperwork, you know.”
“You’re not joining us?” Matt asked.
“No rest for the wicked.” Then, with a wave, Kiko left, completing his cameo appearance.
Dawn shifted in her seat, dying to know what Kiko had come up with. “My associate.”
With a whisper, Kiko’s voice came over the earpiece. “Clean as a whistle. His mind’s all on you, Dawn. But still be on your toes with him—you never know.”
She sank down in her chair, halfway relieved.
“What would help,” Matt was saying, as if Kiko hadn’t even made an appearance, “is if you’d tell me about Frank and your family. And was there any reason for him to disappear?”
“You mean run away?”
“Sure.”
Oh, boy, poor PI. He was so far off base it wasn’t funny. And she wouldn’t even entertain the thought of Frank going all ’fraidy cat and taking off once he realized that Robby’s case wasn’t just another muscle job.
In an effort to be halfway helpful, she told Matt some personal details about her father, things that weren’t necessarily in the newspapers: his wham-bam courtship with Eva, the surprising love that had followed the sudden news of a pregnancy, his grief after his wife’s death, his raising of Dawn…She assumed Matt had done his homework on Eva and knew her own much-publicized details.
But when she mentioned her mom, she saw how his gaze went a little dreamy, just like Kiko’s had in the SUV that first night. Jealousy tore into her, leaving a bitter taste on her tongue, something even her seven-dollar iced tea couldn’t chase away.
Instead, she leaned even closer to him, competing for his attention. When she got it, he smiled at her, and her body relaxed to a low thrum, begging her to feed it.
Later, she thought, assuaging herself. Later.
By the time she’d finished, their food had arrived. Matt didn’t say anything. He’d come to stare at the bar, where Breisi was lingering. Dawn still didn’t know if he’d somehow identified her associate or not.
At any rate, just as a warning for Breisi, Dawn said, “Did you want a drink from the bar? You’re pretty interested in it.”
“No. I’m just taking your story in.” He turned back to Dawn without even another glance across the patio.
Thank God. “You have any more ideas about Frank now that you’ve interviewed me?”
“I am wondering if—” Matt cut himself off, poking at his pan-seared steak with a fork.
“Wondering what?”
He kept poking for a second, then grabbed a knife to cut into the meat. “I wonder if his emotions about Eva finally got to him. Was he really upset before he vanished?” Uneasily, he looked at her.
Her stomach knotted up, her mind refusing to give his question any credence whatsoever. “Are you asking if he committed suicide?”
Matt nodded, seeming sorry to have mentioned it.
His sincerity got to Dawn. And since she wasn’t sure what to do about that, she simply answered.
“There’s no way he did himself in. Things were going better with Frank.” She thought of Breisi, hoped she’d made him happy…. Besides, “He had a good job making better money than he’d ever made before.”
Matt put his utensils by his plate, eyes fixed intently on her. “He had a good job, you say. I know he worked with Limpet and Associates.”
At his steady gaze, her pulse beat double time. They’d strayed away from Dawn’s mission: to discover the identity of his client. Way too far.
She became extremely interested in her Cobb salad. “Yeah, that’s where he worked.”
“And you’re with them now.”
“As a consultant. I’m helping with Frank.”
“And not with…any other cases?”
She had the feeling he was talking about Robby Pennybaker. Was that because he knew what Frank had been investigating?
“I’m working with them because of my dad, and that’s it,” she said, stuffing some lettuce into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to continue.
He sat back, arms crossed over his chest, e
yes narrowed, not so shy anymore. Talk about feeling like she was about to be pounced on. In spite of her turmoil—or maybe because of it—her body warmed up, smoking with adrenaline, the thought of being chased and caught.
“Funny,” Matt said. “Mr. Limpet. No one knows him.”
Tell me about it. “He’s a private guy.”
“Have you ever met him?”
Kiko’s voice sounded in Dawn’s ear. “Get him off the subject.”
Just what she’d been thinking. “You can give Limpet a call, you know, have a nice chat, talk about the latest in investigator chic, that sort of thing.” Hell, earlier, during a briefing, The Voice had told her that he and Lonigan had talked, but she was running interference here.
“I’ve got no interest in chatting.”
His intense gaze was still on her. Out of pure habit, she summoned enough strength to block him from her mind—
Get out!
—but all he did was tilt his head, like he was wondering why she’d scrunched up her face.
Great, she thought. She’d just crossed the line into overkill. Was she so desperate to keep everyone out?
Dawn stared at the table. Yeah. Yeah, she was.
But that didn’t mean she still didn’t want him inside of her in another, more physical way. She wasn’t even sure why she craved him so much. And, if she was honest with herself, it was more than the usual longing for contact.
Was it because he was a challenge? A hard-to-get wish?
She went back to her salad, hopefully making Matt think she had no more suggestions about getting to know Limpet.
She could feel his eyes on her.
“I have talked to him on the phone,” he said. “It was all very civil and uninformative.”
Time to get back to her agenda now.
As she set down her fork, she started to toy with the chain around her neck, drawing out the small crucifix attached to it. She braced herself.
He glanced at the silver and…
Nothing. No cringing, no hissing.
Night Rising Page 16