It was then that Kelly Harris became a necessary evil. He had resources she needed, and oddly enough seemed willing to share them in exchange for a tidbit of information here and there. He was at her apartment almost every night, whether she wanted him to be or not. So she begrudgingly allowed him to stay as long as he helped her draw lines between Dominic Isbecky and the Hard Candy Killer, which seemed frustratingly tenuous at best.
Dominic had protected his past well. And his present was even more mysterious. It was though he lived two lives, or split into two people. There was the guy he presented to the world, and the monster she’d met in the office.
It was their job to reconcile the two.
If Richard Bennett knew how much information Kelly had shared with her, he would have likely canned his ass. But Kelly was beyond caring about his own career and his own hide. After seeing Tammy on that slab, knowing his own incompetence had put her there, he was ready to do anything to bring that monster to justice. If he had his way, he’d blow the Hard Candy Killer’s head off and spare everyone the time and expense of a trial. Los Angeles was a town living in fear for its daughters, and no court in the country would convict him for doing his civic duty to serve and protect.
But he knew he’d have to beat M.J. to it. If he carried guilt and regret, it was only a fraction of what M.J. was harboring. She said very little, refusing to budge even an inch to let him in.
It only made him want her more.
After that first workout session, he hadn’t been able to shake thoughts of her. He remembered in vivid detail what she looked like, how she felt, what she smelled like. Late at night when he was alone in his bed, he could still feel her in his arms. She was supple, yet strong. Holding her was like cuddling a cobra. She had coiled her body around him, but it had been a lethal hug. One wrong move and she’d strike to kill.
It didn’t take very long for him to realize that it would be one hell of a way to go. By the end of June, he was at her apartment every night for reasons other than the job.
It had been a hell of a long time since that had happened.
He even wore a smile as he entered her apartment that Thursday night. “I know you like it hot,” he said, taking their bags of food to the table. “I tried to order the spiciest level that they had, but she talked me down to the medium range. They still had to handle your share with rubber gloves and metal tongs, fair warning.”
“Righteous,” she said as she dug into one of the bags, taking out the container of spicy mint noodle.
He twisted off the cap of a beer and handed it to her. “May God have mercy on your soul.” He grinned.
“Too late for that.” She smirked and headed toward the threadbare sofa.
He opted to sit at the table instead. He glanced at her computer. “Any further news on the Rothchilds?”
“You tell me,” she said in between bites. “They’ve been in Los Angeles sucking up press time on every channel for weeks.” It was clear she wasn’t happy about it.
“They want to find their daughter,” he said and shrugged. “The only people who aren’t afraid for her are the people who know where she is.”
It was a pointed statement. She glanced up. “Is that your charming way of asking me, again, where I’ve stashed your key witness?”
He shrugged. “You keep telling me you sent her home. Clearly she didn’t make it.”
“I said I sent her back to North Carolina. I never said I sent her back home.” He said nothing as he waited. Finally she sighed. “When she got here, she was pretty badly beaten up. Old bruises. You’ve seen them yourself in that picture, which we both know was taken the minute she stepped off the bus.”
“You think they did it?” He was skeptical, though he knew from his tenure on the force that anything was possible. This was a high-profile family from North Carolina, balls-deep in regional politics and old money, and neither of the Rothchilds seemed foolish enough to visibly abuse their child, risking any kind of blight on their perfectly polished reputations.
It was her turn to shrug. “Whatever it was, it was bad enough to send her running clear across the country to get away from it.”
“And you sent her back.”
Her eyes met his. “She said she had a safe place to go.”
“Bullshit,” he said, just as directly. “If she had a safer place to go in North Carolina, she would have gone there in the first place.”
She smirked. “Spoken like a true detective.”
He sighed, rose from the table, and joined her on the couch. “Why lie to me, M.J.? What purpose does it serve?”
“I like to keep you on your toes.” She stabbed another forkful of mint noodle.
He chuckled. “You certainly do that.”
A silent moment passed between them before she had to avert her eyes. “She’s safe,” she said finally. “That’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s all you will tell me,” he corrected.
She shrugged. “Either way, I’m taking any details about her location to my grave.”
He took the container from her hands and placed it on the coffee table. “No one else has to die, M.J.”
She met his gaze. “Then how come they do?” He could say nothing. “What is the body count up to these days, Harris? Can’t you see that I can’t take any chances? Not after what happened with Todd and with Tammy. Hell, even Billy. These kids shouldn’t have to pay the price for my leaps of faith.”
Unconsciously he reached for her hand. “You shouldn’t have to, either,” he said softly. Their eyes locked and held for a long moment before his other hand captured a lock of her wild red hair. It felt like silk in his fingers. “I’ve never met anyone like you, M.J. Standing alone, trying to save the world. It doesn’t have to be that way. It doesn’t have to be this hard.”
Looking into her eyes, he could instantly see what terrified her most. It wasn’t being alone; it wasn’t facing killers or fighting for her street kids.
Getting close to anyone . . . feeling anything more than her righteous anger . . . those were the demons that chased her.
And yet, she was enticing as hell. From her bright green eyes to her full, tempting lips, she was all woman underneath that warrior exterior. And he burned for her with every single cell in his body. For once, he didn’t resist the urge to touch her face, or lose himself in her eyes.
Her eyes widened as his mouth made its deliberate journey towards her own. She was shocked silent and still until his breath reached her lips. That snapped her out of his spell. She untangled her hand from his, rising quickly from the sofa. He was on his feet just as quickly, but before he could apologize for breaking their tentative truce, she was scribbling something on a piece of paper and handing it to him.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet,” she answered honestly. “Maybe a false lead. Maybe nothing at all. But it would be worth a records search, just to see.”
He glanced at the piece of paper. It could be yet another wild goose chase, but somehow he didn’t think so. She was sharing a clue with him.
It wasn’t a kiss, but it would have to do.
After Kelly left, M.J. settled back down at her computer. Instead of opening her research files, she cycled through her photo album. Each and every photo of Snake broke her heart. She needed him now more than ever, but she knew that satisfying that need would only get him killed.
He was mad at her after their last encounter, and that was probably best. The further away he stayed, the better it was for all of them. It just felt like hell, but she was certainly used to that.
She touched his two-dimensional face and could almost feel the stubble of his beard against her fingertips. She ached to be in his arms, to touch his body, to kiss his lips. All it would take was a twenty-minute drive to Pasadena and she could fall once again into his bed, secure in the knowledge that she was loved, and even protected.
But she trusted Kelly about as far as she could throw him. Whether he had
put a tail on her or planned to follow her himself, she knew her every move was under scrutiny. She couldn’t afford any kind of slip while she was, in effect, sleeping with the enemy.
He had proven as hard to shake as a smoker’s cough. He was under her feet daily, with those beseeching blue eyes that made her feel a tad too discombobulated. She found herself teetering between the life she knew, with Snake and her bikers and her mission, and a fucking cop of all things. And not just any cop, but a searing pain in the ass. He was quick to call her on her bullshit and push her out of her comfort zone, which Snake would have never done. Snake had been willing to wait with the patience of a saint, knowing that if she submitted even a little bit, on any level, it had to be on her terms.
Kelly Harris was an impatient little fuck determined to mold circumstances to his will.
He was a little too much like her, which was the most disconcerting discovery of all. And so she regarded him like she would expect any true adversary to regard her. She couldn’t let him too close. She couldn’t let him know too much. Every gesture, every action, could be a liability. All it would take was one slip, and her whole carefully constructed house of cards would fall. They’d find Baby, and who knew what kind of danger that might put her in, from the Hard Candy Killer to her very own parents.
No tussle in the sack was worth that.
She still had a job to do. She still had a promise to keep. She ran a finger across her signet ring before heading off to take yet another cold shower.
Kelly was looking forward to a cold shower of his own as he stalked purposefully toward his office. M.J. Bennett was the most infuriating, exciting, confusing, compelling, aggravating, alluring woman he had ever met. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. More importantly, he didn’t want to. That near kiss had made him feel more alive than he had felt in years.
When he got to his office, he parked himself at his desk, opened the drawer, and withdrew a photo that he kept close but that he’d barely been able bring himself to look at in the eight years since it had been taken. The girl at his side had dark hair, black as night, and her doe eyes were a gentle brown. His heart melted as he remembered what it felt like to be captive in their embrace. He had fallen for Sofie Reed the minute they’d met in eighth grade. She was petite and delicate, and he’d wanted more than anything to be her hero.
His lips thinned in a hard line when he remembered once again how bitterly he had failed.
So why in God’s name was he chasing after another girl he couldn’t save?
He sighed and put the photo back in the drawer, turning his attention to a little scrap of paper with the name Xavier Castellano written on it.
Across town in Santa Monica, Xavier Castellano poured another round of drinks for Harry Landers and Benjamin Llewellyn at the scuffed wooden bar at the Snake Pit, while Bob Seger wailed from the jukebox. Landers handed the handsome bartender a twenty. “Keep the change.”
X gave him a mock salute before he returned to his task, washing out shot glasses. Llewellyn savored the first cold sip of his full-bodied beer. “Nothing better after a long week,” he sighed as he leaned on the bar, his attention split between the muted game on the overhead TV and the conversation with the wizened old detective who had become his closest companion in the last few weeks.
“One more week with those Rothchilds and I’ll need more than a beer,” Landers grumbled.
“After another week with those people, I’ll pay,” Llewellyn replied.
“And we’re no closer to finding that girl than we were three weeks ago.” Landers emptied his glass.
“I know you don’t want to hear this,” Llewellyn started, but Landers cut him off.
“Save your breath. I know what you’re going to say. And my best guy is on it. If anyone can break through to M.J. Bennett, it’s Detective Harris.”
Llewellyn made a face. “I know he’s your partner and everything, but he’s a bit of a loose cannon, don’t you think? How many times has he gone off-script so far?”
“He gets the job done,” Landers stated. He ordered another beer with a raised finger.
“And looking like a fitness model probably doesn’t hurt.” Llewellyn smirked. “I don’t have much experience with Ms. Bennett, but I don’t think that approach will work.”
Landers gave the agent a quizzical glance. “And what approach is that?”
“He’s a man, she’s a woman . . .” he said, leaving the rest of the thought to dangle in the air between them.
Landers couldn’t help but chuckle. “You got proof of that?”
Llewellyn indulged him with a smile and leaned closer. “Let me handle her. I’m trained to get information, and my specialty is digging up the information no one wants to share. I’m here anyway. You might as well use me.”
X brought two more beers, and Landers paid. He turned back to the agent. “Got a death wish, do you?”
Llewellyn shook his head. “M.J. is nothing more than a pit bull on a chain. You just have to know how to lead.” Landers looked skeptical, so he went on. “What’s the one thing that motivates our vivacious vigilante?”
“PMS?” Landers quipped, and Llewellyn shook his head.
“Honor. I’ve done my research. I know how her grandfather died. I also know how her grandfather lived. She will never break his code. It’s just not in her to do. Look at that kid in the alley. He died at his own hand, not hers. There’s a line she will not cross, no matter the reason. Use that,” he said with emphasis. “March her right up to the line and she’ll hand everything you want over to you, gift wrapped with a giant glittery bow.”
“And how do you suppose we do that?”
Llewellyn chuckled. “We let her deal with the Rothchilds.”
Landers laughed as well. “There’s an idea.”
Both men were surprised when Kelly entered the bar not an hour later, and the hotshot detective seemed startled to find them there. “Let me buy you a beer,” Landers offered as he approached.
“If you’re buying, make it two.” He glanced at the empties in front of them. “It’ll take a few to catch up with the two of you.” He climbed up on the stool next to Landers. “What brings you guys out to Santa Monica?”
“Your chief brought me here,” Llewellyn answered. “I liked the laid-back vibe.”
Kelly nodded as he looked around. It was a dive bar, full of eclectic beach and biker memorabilia. “I didn’t know Chief Bennett was a beach dweller.”
“He used to live out here,” Landers told him. “Born and raised, right in Venice.”
Kelly nodded again and took in every detail, including the handsome bartender who served their drinks. Xavier Castellano had grown his hair out from his last mug shot, but that had been several years ago, when he was just barely out of high school. “Thanks, man,” Kelly said, accepting the full, frosty mug of beer.
The barmaid, a full-figured dirty blonde wearing a nametag that read “Lori,” stopped by to offer a flirty smile to Agent Llewellyn. “You’re getting to be a regular around here, Benji,” she teased.
Llewellyn was full of charm when he grinned in response. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for old tunes.”
She blew him a kiss before she disappeared into the office. Kelly turned to Llewellyn. “Benji?”
“Really?” Llewellyn challenged with a smirk. “You’re going to make fun of my name?”
All three men laughed. “So how is your investigation coming, Detective?” Llewellyn asked.
Kelly knew that was code for how much progress he had made with M.J. He offered a shrug. “A few dead ends. You know how that goes.” He glanced over at Xavier, who was flirting with a barfly at the other end of the bar.
Llewellyn nodded. With a sigh, he finished his own beer. “This whole case has become a dead end. This fucker has us all by the short and curlies until he makes his next move.”
“When do you think that will be?” Kelly asked.
Llewellyn shrugged. “When the opportunity presents it
self. Now that the whole world is watching, I suspect he’s got quite the statement to make.”
The three men sat drinking quietly, analyzing all the available data yet again. Each and every one of them knew that they were playing defense now. The only course of action left was to get to the blonde girl in Tammy’s photo before the Hard Candy Killer did. It made Kelly think about M.J. and how much information she was harboring. He surveyed the bar again. If her father hung out here, had she? And if so, why was Xavier working there?
What did it all mean?
After a while, Agent Llewellyn whisked Lori away for a dance, and Kelly rose from his seat to check out the memorabilia on the walls. Along with surfboards and posters, there were framed photos of the biker scene in Southern California, taken in the 1960s and 1970s. Some of the faces even looked familiar. Kelly was certain that he spotted Chief Bennett in several, taken decades earlier, before he even joined the force.
More recent photos, taken in the 1980s and 1990s and even the 2000s, featured old bikers and new. One in particular caught his interest. He’d recognize that copper mane anywhere, even though she couldn’t have been more than a teenager when some of the photos were taken.
M.J. Bennett sat behind an older man with a long gray beard and an American flag bandana around his head. He recognized that bandana too, as the one she now wore around her wrist. This had to be her grandfather.
In another, she rode behind a younger, handsome man with long brown hair and no facial hair. Kelly’s brow furrowed as he studied the photo. He felt like he had seen that face before, but he couldn’t pinpoint where.
His eyes drifted back to M.J., who looked young, happy, and carefree. His heart tugged a little. A small part of him wished he could have known her then, before she’d shut herself off from the world.
“Doesn’t even look like the same girl, does it?” Landers said as he joined the younger detective at the wall.
Kelly shook his head. “Who are all these people?”
“You know M.J., of course. That was her grandfather, Joe. Everyone called him Pops,” Landers said with an absent smile.
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