“What are you waiting for?” Alex asked. “There’s a personal address book right there.”
She stabbed the enter key and shot him another dirty look. “Let me remind you again that investigation is my job. I don’t need your help.” Unless she was sitting there comparing former lovers to him. Then, she evidently did.
“Here it is.” Jessica’s entire address book flashed on the screen. “With every entry complete and up to date. God love that woman.”
“Print it.” He settled back into his seat. “And brace yourself, here comes your new boss.”
Across the newsroom, the second most handsome man she’d seen that day strode toward them with the raw determination of a hunter. Although he had a powerful build, a flawlessly attractive face, and a smile that teeth whitening companies could use for commercials, it was the possessive gleam in his slate blue eyes that told Jazz exactly who he was. She was about to meet her sister’s Mr. Amazing.
Kimball Parrish whipped open the office door and wasted no time claiming his turf.
“I love you in that color.” He barely spared a glance at Alex, his gaze locked on his female prey; he all but pissed in the doorway to stake his claim. “Remember what I said last time you wore it?”
Something about a lemon drop, Alex guessed as he stood to offer a handshake to his client. “Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Parrish. Alex Romero.”
He nodded, finally giving Alex a brief flash of attention. “Don’t let her out of your sight unless I tell you, Romero. Not for one minute.”
“I don’t plan to, sir.”
Dismissing him, Parrish turned back to Jazz, who had copped a remarkably cool demeanor. She stayed in her chair, relaxed yet watchful. A confident woman who knew at least one man in the room had serious hots for her. She tipped her head at an angle that accentuated the upward tilt of her blue-gray eyes, a clever little smile on her face. She suddenly looked softer, more ladylike.
“No need to worry,” she said with a charming laugh. “I can’t shake him off even to prepare for a network interview.” Her voice was modulated, practiced, even a touch raspier.
Holy shit, she’d just become a different woman. Alex, meet Jessica.
Parrish turned to him. “Give us a few minutes, Romero.”
Even though he wanted to witness the exchange, Alex moved to the door. “I’ll be right outside if you need me.”
On the other side of her door, he couldn’t make out their words, but he noted that Parrish settled one hip on the corner of Jessica’s desk. Friendly, but oddly formal. He hasn’t been in her bed yet, Alex decided. Maybe he thinks hiring a full-time bodyguard will melt her heart.
How had he found himself in this low-level position, protecting the wrong person? With the man actually footing the bill for his high-end services just five feet away, holding a conversation with an imposter?
Jesus, what a mess.
Had Lucy ever fired a Bullet Catcher? Perhaps. There was a lot of mystery in her organization, but black ops came naturally to the woman at its head. He didn’t know if she’d make good on her subtle threats and didn’t want to find out. The loss of Lucy’s generous paychecks would mean the end of a hefty, steady stream of illegal cash to a wretched little fishing village just ninety miles from here.
Not that he would ever tell his ex–CIA agent boss that he needed his job so he could continue breaking federal embargo laws. All he wanted to do was remain indispensable to her, and keep that cash headed to San Tomás, Cuba.
From here he could easily observe Oliver Jergen, whose attention shifted constantly from a police radio to several two-way communications systems firing calls and information at him. Jergen threw a few looks Alex’s way as well.
A tall, dark-haired man talking on a cell phone sauntered up to Jergen’s circular stage and paused, his suspicious gaze falling on Alex.
“Hey, Ollie, who’s that?” he asked, snapping the phone shut with an air of self-importance.
“Jessica has a bodyguard now.”
The other man snorted. “Why don’t they just hire a team of professionals to floss her teeth and wipe her backside?”
“Don’t let that green-eyed monster blind you, Jonathan,” Oliver said. “You’ll be the top dog when she goes to New York.”
“Hell, we could all go to New York if we were willing to suck Kimball Parrish’s dick.”
Oliver glanced at Alex, who kept his eyes straight ahead as if carefully watching the crew hustling around the studio set at the other end of the newsroom. “You could give it a shot, Jon. I hear he’s an equal opportunity prick.”
“I’ll pass.” Jonathan slipped his phone into his pocket. “Never let it be said that Jonathan Walden didn’t earn his stripes the old-fashioned way. When I need a promotion, I fuck a woman.”
Oliver laughed and handed over a piece of paper. “Here are the A.M. crew assignments. And what the hell are you doing here at this hour, anyway? Our first live update isn’t until three-thirty this afternoon.”
“You think I’d miss a network feed?” Jonathan jutted his chin toward Jessica’s office but kept his gaze on the paper in front of him. “Plus, you never know when La Primadonna is even going to show up for work, now that she can smell the big time. I have to be here—it’s the curse of the understudy.”
With an unfriendly look at Alex, Jonathan proceeded to the office next to the one where Jazz sat.
Evidently Jessica Adams had a few enemies, after all.
On the other side of the glass, he heard Jazz let out a raspy laugh, a little deeper than anything he’d heard from her so far. Unable to resist, he shifted his position to see into the room.
Parrish’s whole body leaned toward her, as if he could just inch forward without warning to plant one on her pretty mouth. Jazz—Jessica—was animated as she flirted right back.
An odd resentment coiled up in him, the sudden impact of her parted lips and twinkling eyes surprising him.
What was he? Jealous? Horny? Or just all around stupid?
This whole assignment sucked, and he cursed himself for getting stuck with it. He never should have used sex to distract that wild woman in Geneva. And he should never have accepted this babysitting job.
He glanced again at Jazz, whose head tipped back in another throaty chuckle.
Worst of all, he should never have agreed to this charade.
Chapter
Four
O nce again, Jessica had scored the biggest man on campus. That girl had a magical touch with men.
As Jazz made small talk about the interview and engaged in harmless banter with Kimball Parrish, she observed the delight in his blue eyes and his body language. This handsome executive was no different than the countless football heroes and company presidents and political masters of the universe who invariably dropped to their knees when faced with a chance to be with Jessica Adams. She just had that effect on men.
He perched on the side of her desk, obviously at ease with her, but distant enough to keep tongues from wagging.
“Seriously, Jess, are you ready for Mayor Rodriguez?” Parrish asked, crossing his arms over his barrel chest in a move that made him look bigger than he actually was. “I want to blow them away in New York with this one.”
“Have you ever known me to be less than one hundred percent ready?” She gave him one of Jessica’s signature winks. “Don’t come in here and wave doubt at me.”
“I would never doubt you, Jess.” He dipped his head and lowered his voice. “But you don’t look like you slept well. Are you okay?”
She shrugged casually. “I have a virus or something. That’s why I missed the broadcast last night.”
“You missed the broadcast last night?” Parrish’s looked turned wary. “Thank God I didn’t know that while I was at the Economic Development fund-raiser.”
“I assumed you’d heard the buzz by now,” she said, adding a flippant wave to send him out the door. “And I do need some time for last-minute preparations, or New York will n
ot be impressed. Let’s talk later.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “Tonight. At dinner.”
“Dinner?” There was no way she’d be able to spend a whole evening with him and not have him figure out that she wasn’t Jessica. “I have the eleven o’clock broadcast,” she reminded him with relief.
“Let Jonathan do it. He’s chomping at the bit to get more solo air time. I have to leave for New York tomorrow and I won’t see you for…days.” He made it sound like a stint in purgatory. “Anyway, I know you want to give me hell about the bodyguard.”
Oh. So Jessica and Kimball hadn’t talked about the bodyguard. “You know it’s unnecessary,” she said, purposefully vague.
He reached over and took her hand. “It most certainly is necessary. You aren’t safe.”
Her eyes widened. Did he take those fan letters that seriously? Did Jessica? “Really, there’s nothing to worry about. I’ll use an escort to the parking lot at night.” That was standard procedure for nighttime on-air personalities. “And my condo is secure.”
“Nothing is secure enough to suit me,” he said solemnly, glancing at Alex’s back on the other side of the glass. “Although he looks a little scary.”
Jazz laughed. “Isn’t that the idea?”
But Kimball narrowed his gaze at Alex again. “His job is to protect you. Not…anything else.”
Of course he’d be jealous. What man didn’t want Jessica all for himself? She smiled innocently. “You have nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, but I do,” he said, standing and reaching out to hold her hand. “I worry about you.” His voice was tender and kind.
Could it be the top dog had a soft spot? Maybe that was what Jessica saw in him. Despite his movie star smile and elegant salt-and-pepper hair, Jazz wasn’t remotely attracted to this man.
“Have the bodyguard bring you to Licorice after the six o’clock broadcast,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze. “And don’t worry about me watching this interview. You are the very best in the business, Jessie, and I love nothing more than observing you while you work.”
As he opened the door and stepped out of the office, Jazz saw him lock gazes with Alex.
“If anything happens to her, Romero, I’ll kill you myself.” All the tenderness and kindness had evaporated.
Alex was in her office within the next instant. “What did he say?” he asked.
She dipped down behind the desk to pick her handbag up from the floor; she was due in hair and makeup five minutes ago. “He wants to go out on a date tonight.”
“At least.”
She looked up. “Jessica will be home by then, I’m sure. She’ll handle it. But you are expected to go, too.”
“Of course,” he agreed. “So they are dating.”
Jessica shrugged. “I sense that there might be something more than an employee-boss relationship there.”
“No doubt all that raw power and money would be the ultimate aphrodisiac for a television ladder-climber. The man is a walking ticket to New York.”
She narrowed her eyes at him as she stood. “My sister doesn’t sleep her way to the top.”
“That’s not what the natives think.” He opened the office door and held it for her.
“Screw the natives.” She slipped by him and added, “Anyway, he’s the one paying your bills, so don’t knock him.”
He leaned closer to her. “He is paying to protect your sister, not play dress up and fool the boss.” His voice was cold and serious.
She flashed a smile to a couple of technician types who walked by. “I would know if something’s wrong,” she said through her teeth. Wouldn’t she?
“I don’t believe in gut instinct,” he said.
Neither did she—she believed in facts. And the fact was, she’d been in Miami for twelve hours and hadn’t heard a word from Jessica.
“As soon as I’m done with this interview, I’ll trace that pay phone number. We’ll spend the day trying to track her down.”
“Not trying,” he countered, then walked away.
“Where are we going?”
Alex maneuvered the Escalade onto Biscayne Boulevard, ignoring the horn from the van he cut off. “Sightseeing.”
“Don’t be a smart ass. I need to get on my computer, and Jessica’s condo is that way.” Jazz pointed, then sighed softly. “I wonder if she saw the interview.”
“If she did, she’d have been very proud of…herself. You were good.”
“Thanks,” she replied. “But it was easy. The mayor was a piece of cake.”
That wasn’t true. Rodriguez was a skittish pain in the ass, but Jazz had handled him like a pro, even when he tried to make a political statement out of the event.
She reached forward and started playing with the GPS keypad. “How does this thing work?”
He eased her hand away. “Voice activated.”
She leaned toward the device and recited the address of the pay phone she’d dug up.
“You really should be in the backseat,” he said, half to himself.
The small screen flashed as quickly as her smile. “You lost that battle, pal. You’re lucky I’m not driving.”
“I’m used to it. I have four sisters exactly like you.”
“Four? How so?”
“Pushy. Ballsy. Gutsy. Not docile.”
“Are those their names?”
“Might as well be. Carmen is pushy, Maria is ballsy, Ileana is gutsy. And, oh God, Carina is not docile. My goal in life is to avoid women like them.” He added a meaningful look. “If I can.”
She laughed at the implication that he’d failed. “Older or younger?”
“All younger.” He checked the rearview mirror and scanned the streets around them. “They’re all safely married off, except for Carina.”
“So you’re free to protect the rest of the world now, is that right?”
He said nothing, listening to the female voice from the dashboard directing him to East Thirty-third Street and Eighth Avenue.
“Calle Ocho,” he corrected the machine.
“Excuse me?”
“Eighth Avenue is called Calle Ocho in Little Havana. Although that address is technically Hialeah.”
“Guess the GPS lady isn’t a local.” She twisted to look in the backseat. “Where did you put all those papers? I want to go over all those names and addresses.”
“We’ll make some calls later.”
“We’re not going to start calling everyone on her Christmas list, looking for her. That undermines the whole reason I’m here.”
Sudden brake lights prevented him from giving her the menacing look she deserved. “The only undermining in all this is your impersonation act.”
She wiggled out of the yellow jacket and threw it over the seat, then adjusted the air vent to blow directly on her face and the strappy silk top she’d worn underneath. He kept his attention straight ahead. “I’m doing what Jessica asked me to do.”
“What you’re doing is preventing me from finding her.”
“How?”
“By pretending that she’s at work, and playing cat and mouse with her boyfriend.”
She released her seat belt and started rooting around the backseat, where he’d left the papers. “I am not—”
He took her arm and guided her face forward. “Don’t you ever sit still?”
“No.” Reluctantly, she relatched the seat belt and let out a slow sigh. “She’ll call me. You’ll see.”
Reaching into the back, he slid the file folder from the seat pocket where he’d left it. “Here.”
“She had last night blocked off from seven to eight,” Jazz noted as she read the printout of a calendar page. “All it says is DR. A doctor’s appointment at seven at night? Are there medical offices around here?”
“Hialeah Hospital.” He closed his eyes at the thought of ever entering that vile institution again. “But your sister doesn’t strike me as their usual clientele. What was the fund-raiser her boyfriend said he’d b
een at?”
“Economic Development,” she answered. “That is, if Parrish really is her boyfriend.”
He gave her a questioning look as he stopped at the I-95 entrance ramp. “You don’t think he is?”
“She never said she was dating, or in love. She said she’d met someone amazing. Someone who could change her life. Someone…,” she paused, and added, “who was smart, connected, and had a heart of gold.”
“Parrish qualifies for the smart and connected part.” He was exactly the kind of man an ambitious woman would want by her side, a perfect accessory to her perfect apartment.
“He seems genuine,” she said. “But I did sense he was doing a full-court press on Jess. Maybe she just hasn’t committed yet. Or maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“Maybe there is someone even smarter, more connected, and more golden of heart.”
“Yeah, and she hooked up with him last night, got lost in the throes of passion and forgot to call you.”
Jazz let out a snort of disbelief as she flipped through the printout. “Jessica doesn’t forget. No matter what throes she’s in.”
“Then why aren’t you worried?”
“Who says I’m not worried?” She blew out a breath. “I just prefer action to worry. Plus, she’s very capable. And she’d warned me she’d be going away. I think she’s left early, that’s all.”
Alex didn’t push the point as he navigated bumper-to-bumper traffic. He got off at Seventy-ninth Street and headed west. The landscape was Hialeah’s finest: run-down warehouses, low-end strip malls, abandoned buildings, and not a word of English anywhere.
“Look at this,” Jazz said, tapping one of the papers. “Another DR note in her calendar, a week ago. With a Thirty-third Street address. Not the pay phone location, but it looks like it might be close.”
“What is that address again?”
She repeated it, and he did a mental calculation of the number of blocks. “The Hialeah Park Racetrack?”
He slowed the car in front of Bright Park and Pool. “The phone is there, in that park. The racetrack is a block away.” He zipped the SUV around and turned toward a pink monstrosity surrounded by flamingoes and flowering trees. “Maybe your sister went to the races last night. Is she a gambler?”
Kill Me Twice Page 5
