Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3

by Gemma Halliday

  I laughed. "Yeah. Caleigh's dad is old-fashioned. No progressive parenting there."

  I knew I had to apologize for my quick temper yesterday afternoon, but I feared that if it was only one-sided, I'd get annoyed again. The last thing I wanted was to tarnish this evening. It was the most relaxed I'd been all week.

  Danny smiled. "This food is delicious. Last night, yesterday is…well, over."

  In other words, we didn't need to dwell and talk things to death. Being friends with Danny was easy.

  As I cut into my steak (It was fork-tender, so whew.), I glanced to a side table he'd added to this part of the room. On it were a couple of framed photos. One was of three boys. They smiled into the camera with their arms around each other's shoulders. The middle one had a wicked, familiar grin.

  "Is that you?"

  Danny followed my gaze and nodded. "Yep. I was ten."

  I set down my fork and reached for the picture. The boy on his right was dark-skinned and bald, or very closely shaved, and the other boy had short black hair and a toothless grin. He was younger than the others.

  "Who are they?"

  "My brothers." Danny bit into a roll.

  Brothers? I quirked a brow. "Um, how do you have a black and an Asian brother? Unless you were adopted."

  "Yeah."

  Wait. What? "You were adopted? Why don't I know this?"

  He winked. "I told you, you don't know everything about me. And I wasn't exactly adopted. I lived in foster care. They're Charlie and Eugene, my foster brothers."

  I'd heard him mention those names before, but I assumed they were just old high school buddies. I hadn't a clue Danny spent time in the system. And here I spent countless hours complaining to him about Derek and grieving about my dead mom…and I knew nothing about his childhood. What kind of friend was I?

  "So tell me about it. How long were you with them? Where are your biological parents? Everything."

  He opened his mouth to speak, and I held up a hand. "Wait. First, why haven't you mentioned this before?"

  He shrugged and swallowed a piece of meat. "It's not something you go around saying."

  I leaned forward and touched his hand. "Danny, I've know you for a million years. I'm your best friend." Or at least I assumed I was. Please don't let it be that I misread another person in my life.

  He squeezed my fingers. "It's not you. It's just…not something I talk about. With anyone."

  I could tell I'd hit an emotional nerve. Danny didn't do emotional. Neither did I usually.

  I pulled back and stabbed my fork into my asparagus. "I understand. If you don't want to talk about it, that's fine." And it was, but I had so many questions. I didn't want to pry though. I did that all day, every day at work. I just wanted a relaxing evening with a friend…with this friend.

  "My mom was fifteen when she had me," he said, while pushing a clump of potatoes around his plate.

  I continued to eat, not wanting to interrupt, hoping he'd reveal all.

  "She and her family were Catholic, so going through with the pregnancy was her only option, but her folks forced her to give me up." He looked up. "I haven't met her face-to-face. Maybe some day. But we exchanged letters a few years ago. Around the time you came home."

  I sucked in a breath. So while Derek had been shot and I was taking over the Bond Agency, Danny had been dealing with his bio mom and never said a word. If I hadn't had so much on my plate, I could've helped him with what he was going through. That timing sucked. Of course it wasn't my fault, but I still felt guilty.

  "I grew up in the system," he continued. "At first I was adopted by a great couple, or so I'm told. I don't remember them much. The wife died when I was five, of cancer. The husband was devastated. He started drinking, couldn't deal, and couldn't take care of me. He gave me back." Danny chuckled, but from its rough tone, it was anything funny.

  A wedge of steak got stuck in my throat. I took a gulp of wine and swallowed. "It's good you don't remember them then."

  He nodded and scooped up a forkful of potatoes. "This is so good."

  "Yeah, they use just the right amount of garlic and fresh chives."

  We ate for a few minutes in silence. I figured that was all he wanted to share, until he said, "I grew up in foster care after that. I'd been bounced around to three different homes before the Reynolds took me in."

  He thrust his fork toward the photo I placed on the table. "That's where I met Charlie and Eugene. I was there from ten until I graduated high school. They were a good family. Had a huge old farmhouse and a couple of cows."

  I nearly dropped my wine glass. "You grew up in the country?"

  He laughed, genuinely. "Not exactly. The cows weren't there long, but if we're ever stranded on a farm and thirsty." He fist bumped his chest. "I can get us some milk."

  I giggled, imagining Danny squatting by udders. "You've kept in touch with your brothers. How about your foster parents?"

  "Mrs. Reynolds still lives in that house, still taking in kids when she can. Mr. Reynolds died about five years ago. Heart attack." He smiled to himself, as if he'd just conjured a great memory. "They were…are good people. I try to visit when I can, but I've traveled so much, I don't get as much time as I would've liked."

  "So what drew you to photography?" I bit into an asparagus spear.

  "In tenth grade I took a class in school. I was hooked. But I always knew I wanted to travel, to see the world. A nine-to-five never appealed to me. The same town, same bed, same routine. I was never good with stagnant, repetitions. It led to boredom…and eventually good-byes."

  And there it was. Danny's sense of adventure, his need to serial date, it was due to his upbringing. Not being able to count on the very people who raised him. It was as if a curtain was drawn back. How everything about him suddenly made so much sense. In hindsight, I almost felt stupid for not realizing there had been a reason to begin with.

  "And now?" I asked. "You've been in this apartment for three years. Haven't left the country in about that long. What's changed?"

  He looked up, stared into my eyes. A smile tugged one corner of his mouth. "I like what's here. It's worth sticking around."

  A warm sensation fluttered in my belly.

  After we finished eating, I wrapped up the leftovers and put them in Danny's fridge. As I wiped down his table, he walked into the room with a photo album. "I have more pictures if you're interested."

  "Of course I am." I pulled my chair around toward his and sat down.

  He flipped open the book. The first page held four Polaroids held down by those old-fashioned corner tabs. Each picture held a toothless, grinning infant. He was a happy baby, despite his circumstances.

  "These are the only ones I have from when I lived with my first family."

  While the photos were adorable, the fact that he didn't have more of his childhood saddened me. I no longer possessed items that reminded me of my mother, but I still had my memories. Danny didn't even have those.

  He flipped the page. There was Danny on a rocking horse, Danny by a pumpkin almost the size of him, and Danny crying on Santa Claus's lap. He had to be around six or seven.

  "That beard scared the crap out of me."

  I giggled. We looked through the rest of the book. He pointed out various adventures with Charlie and Eugene. The Reynolds had a treehouse in their yard, and most of the photos were taken up there. There were also some of them with their foster parents—two proud, stocky people with their arms around the kids. At least Danny grew up in a happy home. Some kids didn't get that.

  We took our glasses and the bottle of wine and sat on the couch. A small light above his stove seeped into the living room, but no other lights were on. I shut my eyes for a moment, just breathing in the silence. My body was heavy and comfortable, like I could nap.

  Then Danny's fingers found their way to my arm. He moved them up and down, caressing my skin in the subtlest motions.

  Suddenly, the desire to kick off my shoes and find a blanket
disappeared. Every nerve ending was charged, awake, and Danny's fingertips left a blazing trail. Sensations flooded my lower belly, and I sighed.

  I wanted to lean into him, press myself against him. I wanted to feel his hands along my body, his mouth on mine.

  Danny turned toward me, and even in the dim light I could see the same hunger in his eyes…

  A breath strangled in my throat, and I jumped off the couch. What the hell was I doing? This was Danny, my best friend. If anything happened that friendship would be gone, and then what? I didn't know if I truly wanted this or if it was just the moment. I couldn't risk ruining everything.

  "What's wrong?" he asked.

  I switched on a lamp and gave an uneven chuckle. "I just remembered I have more work to do tonight."

  Danny frowned. "What kind of work? Is this about that chop-shop again?"

  "What? No. Kinda of." My tongue was suddenly as confused as my hormones.

  "I'll come with you."

  "No! It's, uh, just paperwork. At the office. Boring stuff. I need to run, but I won't forget about therapy tomorrow."

  As I ran from his apartment, I knew I'd made a mistake. But I wasn't sure if the mistake was almost kissing him or leaving.

  * * *

  Of course, I didn't end up at the office. At least not mine. Instead I needed to torture myself and park outside the DA's office again. I pulled up beside Sam's car then got out and into her passenger seat.

  "What are you doing here?" she asked, a look of surprise on her face.

  "I needed distraction."

  Sam dusted cookie crumbs off her jeans. From the array of empty packages of snack foods, it looked like she enjoyed the same stakeout delicacies as I did.

  "Is the reason you didn't get dessert at the restaurant last night because you had a stockpile of Hostess cakes in your car?"

  She looked down to the wrappers and chuckled. "No, Julio keeps leaving them in here. I'm not sure why. And refusing dessert last night was so I could get out of there. I love Caleigh but not so much her dad."

  Yeah, it hadn't been a fun evening for me either.

  "And I thought my father was overbearing," she said. "At least he worked around some amazing military women and knew we didn't just belong in an apron."

  I stared at her profile. Her jaw was clenched, her eyes narrowed. "This really bothers you."

  She was silent for a moment. Then she nodded and let out a half-laugh. "I guess more than I thought. So tell me, how did tonight go?"

  "Good." I focused on what I learned about Danny and his foster family and refused to think about the end, the feelings that still coursed through me.

  Sam stared at me with that look like she knew I was holding back.

  I quickly changed the subject before she questioned it. I could keep things from Caleigh and Maya without much thought, but Sam, for some reason, seemed to always pull things out of me. I swore it was a secret ability she wasn't sharing.

  "How's it going here?"

  "So far nothing. No one in or out, and no sign of Rocco."

  Of course. Was it too much for the Universe to lend a hand?

  "What about Aiden and Miranda?" Saying her name left a bitter coating on my tongue.

  Sam shook her head. "Not much from him either. He was at his desk working earlier. I don't know where he went off to. He hasn't been at his desk for a good twenty minutes, but he hasn't left yet either. I haven't seen her at all."

  Good. Was it possible Miranda left work at a normal hour tonight and was home taking a bath, mending her black, pointy hat, polishing her broom?

  "Okay, well, I'll take over. Go home and enjoy some late night reality TV," I said.

  "You sure? I have enough sugar in me to last a couple more hours."

  I chuckled, opened the car door, and stepped out. "Absolutely."

  "Have a good night," she said and started her engine.

  I went back to my car, waved as she drove off, then pulled up into the spot she had vacated. I pulled my binoculars from my backseat and leaned back in my seat.

  The light in Aiden's office was on, but there was no movement. No Aiden, no Miranda, just like Sam had said. Thank goodness. I couldn't stomach Miranda latching onto him tonight.

  Movement caught my eye, and I lowered the binoculars to the front door.

  Thank you, Universe.

  Sure enough there was Rocco entering the building.

  Without a thought, I raced across the street and straight to the stairs, knowing he'd take the elevator. A weird sense of déjà vu overcame me as I hiked up my skirt and ran up three flights. This time I wasn't panting nearly as hard. (I'd done a load of laundry the other night, so I wore a pink lacy thong. Not necessarily better in this case.)

  As I scrambled through the floor doors, I pushed my skirt down. Rocco stood in the same spot as last time. Instead of getting on all fours again, I turned the corner, and pressed myself against the wall. I counted to five and then peeked. And waited.

  He walked down the back hall, and I followed.

  Like before, he entered the DA's office.

  I ran on tippy toes and pressed my ear against the door.

  Muffled voices sounded, but I couldn't make out who they belonged to. But there were definitely two people inside.

  I thought of the ajar office door, the one Miranda had walked through the other night, and I stepped farther down the hall, wanting to find that room. The next door was unmarked. I gripped the knob and turned. It wasn't locked. I eased it open gently, holding my breath. Hopefully I wouldn't walk in on someone at their desk, like Miranda.

  It was an office, but it was dark and empty. From the hallway light that spilled in, I'd say it belonged to an assistant. A silver photo frame sat on the windowsill, with the picture of a fat, smiling baby.

  I shut the door then walked to the adjoining one. It was open a crack, just enough to make out the voices.

  "But what if they come back and take the kids away?" asked a man with a heavy Hispanic accent. Rocco.

  Good, my plan had worked. Vanessa was scared, and he came running. Not that I wanted her to fear her children's safety, but luckily it was all fear and no action.

  "I'll look into it."

  I froze. The second voice was one I knew very well.

  Rocco was meeting with Aiden.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Suddenly everything I thought I knew about Aiden turned on its head. If I hadn't heard him with my own ears, I never would've believed he was conspiring with a drug dealer. How could I have been so stupid? Believing he wore the white hat, combating injustice for the people. Ha!

  And if the good-guy routine wasn't real…had any of it been real? Had he been using me for…something? I was drawing a blank on what for, but if I was given time I was sure I'd learn the truth about that too.

  My knees trembled, and I wasn't sure if it was because I'd been played and felt like a fool, or because I was seething with anger. How could I have let this happen? Why was I so blind?

  But even as I stood there listening and replaying every word and touch Aiden and I had shared, from our first encounter at a fundraiser to the night on my steps when he pushed me away, nothing made sense.

  The men said their good-byes.

  I pressed myself against the wall, praying neither would come this way. The DA's hall door opened. I ran to the assistant's door and opened it just in time to see them both leave the office. Rocco walked toward the elevator, while Aiden turned around and headed toward me.

  I sprang back and considered hiding under the desk, but then I remembered his office was just a couple of doors down. He had no reason to come in here.

  I peeked out again and caught the hem of his jacket going into his own office.

  But before I had time to contemplate my next move, Aiden was back in the hall with his briefcase in hand. He was leaving. I sucked in a breath as he walked past me.

  I hurried to the windows and bent a blind to peer out. My car was parked almost directly across
from where I stood. Hopefully Aiden wouldn't see it when he left. I couldn't make out the parking lot from my position, but when his car pulled out, I'd see it.

  It took longer than I expected, maybe because I tapped my foot to every second that passed. He hung a right out of the lot, not slowing down, which I hoped meant he hadn't noticed my car.

  I stood back, listened to the silence, and smiled. I was alone in the building. Well, maybe not completely. There were probably janitors and a few other scattered workers. But if Aiden wasn't here, that meant I could snoop in his office, find proof that he was taking bribes without the risk of being caught by him. I couldn't have planned a more perfect opportunity if I had tried.

  I slipped out of the assistant's office and into Aiden's without being noticed. Did no one lock doors in this building? How could the DA's office be so trusting? It didn't make sense. They wouldn't take the risk. This entire floor should've been on lockdown. Obviously someone left the downstairs door unlocked so Rocco could come and go, but why hadn't anyone else noticed that? And why was the interior so freely accessed? The DA's own office? It was more a conference room for criminals than anything else.

  I immediately went to Aiden's desk and sat in his chair. I took a moment to breathe in his musky scent. Deceived or not by who he was, it still smelled warm and familiar.

  On the corner of his desk was a framed photo of him and a woman. His late wife. I picked it up and examined it closer. I'd never actually seen her before. She'd been pretty. Blonde, shoulder length hair blowing in the breeze, smiling blue eyes, a thin nose, and full lips. They looked happy. A clear blue sky was in the background. It was a close-up, so I couldn't tell where they were. Maybe a tropical beach on their honeymoon. I could only make out the wide shoulder straps. It could've been the top of a dress or a tank with shorts.

  Did I remind him of her? When he gazed into my eyes, was he seeing her or me?

  I set the picture back and combed through the drawers and the file cabinet (Which was locked, but I easily found a key in a drawer. So really, why bother?). It took me about thirty minutes to go through every inch of his office, and unfortunately, or fortunately, I found nothing incriminating.