by Julie Kenner
She bit her lip. She’d gone looking for one man and she’d found another. And it turned out that neither man was right for her. One had apparently decided to fake his own death—not a trait of prime husband material—and the second didn’t have a domestic bone in his body.
Still, she wanted this man. The quirky, unstable, bad driver with the nutty family and eyes that seemed to look all the way into her soul. A man with hands big enough to hold her and make all the scary stuff go away.
She wanted him more than she should, especially since she didn’t want him forever. Her only hope of salvation was that David had more willpower than she did. She really didn’t want a one-night stand. That wasn’t her style. She couldn’t sleep with a guy and then be all friendly and oh-wasn’t-the-sex-great but-we’re-really-just-friends. Tasha, maybe. But not her. Instead, she’d be all clingy and stupid and generally hating herself in the morning.
Which meant she needed a shot of willpower and she needed it bad.
“Jacey?”
She looked up, hoping the flush on her cheeks wasn’t giving her thoughts away. “Sorry. Pretending I’m you for a second.”
He chuckled. “You can be me and space out all you want in the car.” He took her by the elbow and urged her toward the entrance to the parking garage. “I’ll drive you to my place. I know the detective in charge. If he needs you, he can call you there.”
She stopped, tugging him back toward the car. “I need to drive there myself.”
He let out an exasperated sigh. “No way.”
She cocked her head. “And why not?”
“You just had one hell of a shake-up. I don’t want you zoning out on the freeway and rear-ending some gangbanger.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. The truth was, he was right. She did feel unsteady. “I can’t leave Lucy here,” she said, her gaze darting to the car.
To David’s credit, he didn’t even have to ask. “She’ll be fine. It’s a secure garage.”
“No, I need my car.” Lucy was as much security blanket as she was transportation and Jacey didn’t intend to run off without her.
“Fine. But someone else drives her to my house. I’ll have Mike make sure she gets to Millie’s, okay?”
“Mike?”
“Detective Cartwright.” He took her hand and squeezed. “Okay?”
“Fine.” She smiled. “Thanks for understanding.”
“No problem.” He hooked an arm around her shoulder and she leaned against him, safe once more. They left the parking garage and paused at the base of the stairs to arrange Lucy’s travel plans with Detective Cartwright.
David gave her a gentle tug on the arm. “We should probably get going,” he said. “I’ll go up and pack some stuff for you. Anything in particular?”
“I’ve already got an overnight bag packed in my hall closet.” She ran her teeth over her lower lip as she glanced up the stairs. “You can just grab that.”
“You’ve got a bag—” He cut the question off with a wave. “Never mind. Sure.” He held up a finger and trotted to his car and for the first time she realized it was parked in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. A uniformed officer was writing a ticket and slipping it under the windshield wiper. After a few seconds, David came back with a cell phone. “Call Tasha.”
She nodded, punching the number for Tasha’s office as David headed up the stairs. She knew he’d find the bag easily, and it had enough clothes and toiletries for three days. She hadn’t used the bag once in all the time she’d lived in the apartment, but living with her mom had taught her to always keep one packed. It was a habit she’d never managed to break.
Tasha wasn’t there so she left a voice mail, then borrowed some paper from Detective Cartwright and wrote a note for him to tape to the door, just in case Tasha had manufactured a meeting and skipped out to go shopping at the Beverly Center.
By the time she finished, David was heading back down the stairs, her small Samsonite case in one hand. He moved with an athletic grace and as she watched him, a slow burn started in the base of her belly, spreading out to her fingers and toes. Alone with David. She was going to be alone with David.
Right then, she couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. And that realization scared her to death.
“Are we ready?” David asked, his hand pressed casually against her back.
She stifled a shiver and nodded. “I guess we are.”
He aimed her toward the Studillac, pausing long enough to grab the ticket off the windshield and shove it in his pocket.
She took a deep breath as he held the car door open for her, realizing that this was the point of no return. She was heading home with David, to his tiny, intimate, one-bedroom apartment. As she slid inside, she concentrated on taking slow, even breaths. She might have thought she was scared earlier when she’d tripped over the burglar, but now she realized she’d been wrong. That was nothing.
Going home with David—that was scary.
• • •
“No diamonds?” Joey yelled. “No fucking diamonds?”
Reggie pulled the phone away from his ear, cringing.
“Don’t call and tell me you can’t find the goddamn jewels. What the fuck am I paying you for?”
Reggie clamped his hand over his throbbing nose and stammered something, all the while shooting glances at Al, who was once again cringing in the passenger seat. Little twit. This was all his fault. If he hadn’t run off with the diamonds in the first place—
“Am I making myself clear?” Joey asked.
Reggie sat up straighter, his muscles aching with the effort. “Yes sir.” He had no clue what his boss had been saying, but he could guess. Find the diamonds or find a hole and crawl into it.
“Well?”
Reggie swallowed. “Uh…”
Joey exhaled, and Reggie imagined the vein on his forehead bulging. “How do you know the bitch doesn’t have the diamonds?” Joey asked, speaking slowly and clearly, like Reggie was slow or something.
“I searched her apartment real good. No rich girl stuff. All her things are organized in drawers or labeled in boxes and things. Not a hint of the diamonds. Not one.”
“And you say you caught our friend Al in her car?”
Reggie scowled at Al while he answered. The little lawyer’s eyes went wide and he scooted even closer to the passenger door. “That’s right. He says the diamonds weren’t there, either.”
“They weren’t,” Al said. “I swear.”
Reggie clamped his hand over his phone’s mic. “Shut up.”
“Did you search him?” Joey asked.
Reggie balled his fist, stifling a groan. He hadn’t searched Al. But he would now. “Yes sir,” he lied. If he found the diamonds on Al, he’d still end up being the hero for the day.
“Then maybe the diamonds are still in the car. Maybe you and Al need to go find the damn Volkswagen and take another look.” Joey paused. “And maybe you should have a little chat with our friend about where exactly he hid my merchandise.”
“Yes sir.”
“And Reggie,” Joey added, “be persuasive.”
Chapter 10
Turner couldn’t meet with me right away, so I figured it was time to tackle my next problem. I needed to tell Mallory about Kenny’s unfortunate demise. And I needed to tell her I was still on the case—whether she wanted me on it or not.
I was in a seedy bar just off Wilshire and she’d promised to meet me there. I looked up when she slid into the booth beside me. “Kenny’s dead,” I said, foregoing the usual pleasant preliminaries.
“I know. I read the papers.”
“And Sarah?” I asked.
Her eyes brimmed with tears. “Isn’t it obvious, Mr. Monroe. Sarah’s gone.”
“You don’t know that.”
She took a sip of her drink, her lipstick leaving a print on her glass. “I do know that, Mr. Monroe.”
I picked up my glass and shook it, the clatter of ice cub
es keeping time with my random thoughts.
What was she saying? I didn’t know, but I intended to find out.
Her hand pressed down on my thigh. “Please, Mr. Monroe, just walk away.”
“I can’t do that, babe.”
“Why not?” she pouted. “I’m not paying you anymore.”
“Guess I’m just the curious sort,” I said.
She leaned closer. “Well, don’t be.” She stroked my cheek. “It’s over, Mr. Monroe.”
Her finger traced my lips and I groaned.
“It’s over,” she repeated, her lips brushing mine. “Just let it go.”
I tried to resist, but she was like a drug. Addictive, but oh so appealing, and damn my soul to hell, I lost myself again in those lips. A drowning man, true, but a man happy to go under one more time…
David blinked, pulling his thoughts back to the reality where he wasn’t making love to Jacey. The reality where she was standing in the doorway looking more than a little wary about the looks Finn and Millie were shooting her way.
Right. Time to rescue the girl.
He took her elbow and steered her inside, nodding in turn to his aunt and his friend. “Millie and Finn are helping me out today.” He aimed a you behave look at Millie, then said, “Jacey’s apartment was burglarized. She’ll be staying with me for a while.”
Finn immediately jumped up, clearing a place for her on the couch. “Are you okay? Did they take anything?”
Jacey glanced at David, as if seeking strength, and his heart lurched even as he told himself he was being stupid. “I’m not even sure he got into the rest of the apartment,” she said.
“Jacey ran into him in the bathroom,” David said, pantomiming a door smacking the burglar in the face. “Our Jacey’s got some pretty attuned self-defense skills.”
She laughed and he gave himself a brownie point. Then he made a mental note to teach her some real self-defense skills. From the way things were shaping up, it looked like she was going to need them.
Millie left her stack of folders on his desk and came over to sit down next to Jacey. She patted her hand. “You poor dear, to be in the middle of all of this.”
“Millie…” David laced his voice with a tone of warning. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Al to Jacey yet, and he’d hoped to approach it a little more subtly.
“Now, David, don’t be modest. Your hunch was right.”
“What hun—”
“My David will protect you,” Millie continued over Jacey. “Don’t you fret.”
Jacey looked from David to Millie to Finn and back to David again. The fear he’d seen in her eyes earlier had returned. Shit.
He rubbed his temple, moving to sit on the armrest, and taking her other hand, his fingers twining with hers. Millie’s approving expression didn’t escape his notice, but he didn’t care. At the moment, he wanted Jacey to feel safe, and if that fueled Millie’s delusions of matrimony, then so be it.
David shrugged. “I’ve been doing a little snooping around, trying to find out about your Al.”
Jacey’s eyes widened. “Really? Why?”
A hard question. “Nosy, I guess.”
Finn coughed into his hand and David shot him a scathing look.
“The point is, there’s some funny stuff going on,” David said.
The fear left Jacey’s eyes, replaced by interest. “Are you saying you think my mugging was related to this afternoon?”
“I’m saying I don’t know,” David said, moving to sit on the coffee table so he was facing her and Millie. “It’s pretty convoluted, but in a nutshell, Al worked for Melvin Clements. Clements represented Joey Malone, who’s a big deal mob boss, and the cops think Malone stole about a million dollars’ worth of diamonds. Except no one can find the diamonds. Then Al gives you a fake name and everyone in the world except you thinks that Albert Alcott is dead.” He met Jacey’s eyes. “You see where this is going?”
“Oh, yeah.” Jacey licked her lips. “Wow.”
“No shit,” Finn said. “We could be plotting one of David’s books.”
True enough. Except in this case, David already had a plot. Jacey’s story—or, rather, Al’s story—had fallen into his lap. He’d called Marva after Chuck had left and told her to do the deal. It galled him to have to put his novel on the back burner, but this was something he had to do. And Marva promised that the deal would be final by the end of the week. In just a few days, he’d get his advance and his bank account would be replenished. Not a fortune, but enough to pay off Millie’s debt, make the IRS happy, and finalize the plans for his trip to Paris.
“What does any of this have to do with me?” Jacey asked. “I don’t know anything about diamonds.”
David and Finn exchanged glances. “That’s the part we don’t know,” David admitted. “But you’re in this somehow.”
“Maybe it’s all coincidence?” Jacey said, the question in her voice making clear that she didn’t believe in coincidences any more than he did.
“Maybe,” David said, happy to let her live in fanta-syland for a few more minutes.
“Nonsense,” Millie said. “We gal Fridays are right on the money with our hunches.” She took Jacey’s hand and squeezed. “But don’t you worry, dear. David will make it all right.”
“Your loyalty is overwhelming,” David said. “But I was trying to make Jacey feel better.”
“Oh,” Millie said, managing to look a little sheepish.
“It’s okay,” Jacey said. “Millie’s right. If I’m in the middle of this, I need to know. Pretending it’s not happening isn’t going to make it go away.” She looked from David to Finn. “But are we sure? And if I am in the middle, then why?”
“No definitive proof,” Finn admitted. “Unless…”
“What?” David, Jacey, and Millie asked in unison.
“I was just wondering if the burglar was spilling his guts to the cops.”
“He’s probably shooting his mouth off all over the place,” David said. “But not to the cops. He was gone by the time Cartwright and crew got there.”
“Well, damn,” Finn said.
“Fingerprints?” Millie asked.
David nodded. “They’ll dust, but who knows if they’ll get a clean print.” He turned to Jacey. “Was he wearing gloves?”
She closed her eyes, then slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so, but I’m not sure. I got out of there pretty fast. I mostly remember his big feet and his face.”
David twirled his hand in front of him. “Well?”
“Oh. Right. I told the detective all this earlier.” She tucked one leg under her. “He had dark hair—Finn’s color, so a little darker than you, but shorter. His eyes were closed, but his eyebrows grew together in the middle. Not heavy, but enough to be a unibrow. I think he’d broken his nose a couple of times and it was red, like he’d been in the sun too long.” She drew in a breath, shivering a little. “But the thing I really noticed was the scar.” She traced her finger over her cheek. “Thin, like from a sharp blade, but really jagged.” She pulled her hand away to hug herself. “I don’t think he’d had it stitched up.”
“Shit,” Finn whispered.
David turned to him. “What?”
“Just a sec.” He got up and moved to David’s computer and started typing, while Jacey, David, and Millie exchanged clueless glances. After a few minutes, he called Jacey over. David followed.
“Is that him?” Finn asked, pointing to the monitor.
Jacey gasped and stepped back into David’s arms. He held her close, absurdly pleased that she’d moved so automatically into his embrace.
“How’d you know that?” she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.
Finn twisted to face them, his face more serious than could remember. “That’s Reggie Barton,” he said. “Joey Malone’s head honcho thug.”
Jacey’s stomach clenched and she was grateful for David’s strong arms around her. Considering the way her knees felt, he was probab
ly holding her up. “Joey Malone,” she repeated. “The same Joey Malone you said was a mob boss? My burglar works for him?”
Finn nodded. “Afraid so. He was all over the news before I moved to Boston. It was right around the time Mike made detective.” He turned to David. “Remember?”
David nodded. “Yup. Barton was bad news.”
“This just keeps getting worse,” Jacey said. She closed her eyes, soaking David’s strength in through his touch, at the moment happy just to have his support. Who would have guessed that the same man who drove her nuts last week would be the man she was now looking to for comfort?
“Nasty machine Malone’s got in place,” Finn added, pulling Jacey away from her thoughts.
“The mafia?” Jacey asked, managing to talk despite the cotton that was suddenly filling up her mouth. “What does the mafia want with me?”
“Technically, Malone’s not the mafia,” Finn said, getting up and leaning against the wall. “He’s more like—”
“I don’t care what he is,” Jacey said, her voice practically a screech. “He’s a thug and he’s bad and he’s after me!” She paused to catch her breath, turning to face David straight on. “Why?”
David’s hands closed over her shoulders. “My guess is that he thinks you’ve got the diamonds,” he said.
Jacey searched his eyes to see if he was serious. Apparently, he was. “That’s insane. Why on earth would I have them? If anyone has them, it’s Al, and he’s skipped the country or something.”
“That’s true,” Millie said, getting up and heading for the kitchen. “I bet he assumed a new identity so he could sip daiquiris on a beach.”
“Right,” Jacey said, with a wave toward her new ally. “Millie’s totally right. Al took off with the diamonds and is living the high life somewhere. So why would anyone in their right mind think I have any connection to the diamonds whatsoever?”
“Oh, my dear,” Millie said. She glanced at Jacey over the pass-through bar as she adjusted the heat under a kettle of water. “I don’t think Joey Malone is in his right mind.”