Nobody But You

by Julie Kenner

  “It’ll be okay, babe.” He rubbed her back, trying to be calm despite the fact that someone—probably Reggie Barton—had broken into his garage. And that meant that someone had followed Jacey from her apartment, because how the hell else could they know where the car was? “We’ll fix her up.”

  Lucy sat there in front of them, injured and forlorn. Her doors hung open, the seats slashed with stuffing poking out, the headliner hanging limp, and the glove box flopped open. Even Lucy’s shiny lime green paint, though not scratched, seemed tarnished.

  The police hadn’t arrived yet, but Finn had left to call them. Soon, David knew, Jacey would be giving yet another statement. For her, it was shaping up to be one hell of a week.

  “Lucy will be fine,” Jacey said. “I can fix her up. But these people are in my life, David. It’s personal and way too close for comfort.” She ran her hands up and down over her arms, as if she were freezing. “I want to get these guys off my back. I want to know what happened to Al.”

  “In that case, sweetheart, we should go to San Diego.”

  “I know.” She shrugged, a watery smile playing at her lips. “What the heck, right? I mean, there will be other accounting jobs. Won’t there?”

  “If you want them, sure.” But he knew she didn’t. For her sake, he hoped she figured that out before she twisted herself inside out trying to be someone she wasn’t. He’d gone down that road himself; it wasn’t a road he wanted to watch someone he cared about travel.

  He aimed them for the door, his arm swung around her shoulder. “Come on. Let’s pack up and hit the road as soon as the cops leave. The beach air will do you good.”

  She shook her head, stopping. “This afternoon,” she said. “After I have a chance to patch up poor Lucy. Or at least start on it.”

  David nodded. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ll patch her up together.”

  • • •

  “You little shit.” Reggie paced, pounding his fist into the palm of his hand, while Al cringed, waiting for the fist to smash into his face. “In the seats, you said. The diamonds are in the seats.” He turned, a big human wall looming over Al. “Well, we tore the fucking car apart and guess what—not one single diamond.”

  This was a nightmare. Al kept hoping he’d wake up, but he knew he wouldn’t. A fucked-up situation overall and he was right smack in the middle of it.

  “You lying little piece of sh—”

  “No way,” Al said, holding up a hand to ward off the blows he expected any minute now. “I didn’t lie. I swear. I put the diamonds inside the passenger seat. There was a slit and I tucked them up inside, all rolled up in one of those soft cases women use for their jewelry.” He rubbed his palms over his face. “She must have found them. That’s the only explanation.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass what the explanation is. I can’t go to Joey with an explanation. He’s gonna have my ass if I don’t find those diamonds and that means I’m going to have yours.”

  They were in a motel room about a mile away from the old lady’s house. A tacky place. The kind of place that probably wouldn’t blink if it found Al’s bloody and battered body splayed out on the floor.

  His stomach lurched and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

  “Or maybe you’re trying to make me look bad,” Reggie said. “Then once Joey dumps me in the L.A. River, you’ll step in and show him where the diamonds are.” Reggie moved closer and Al gagged from the putrid smell of his breath. Stale hot dogs and beer. “Is that your plan, Al? Is it?”

  “No,” he howled. Then, calmer, “Of course not.” He took two deep breaths. He needed to think. Needed to figure a way out of this. What would the hero in a legal thriller do? He’d twist the situation around to suit himself, right? Right.

  But how?

  Reggie took a step forward and Al said the first thing that popped into his head. Anything to keep that fist from connecting with his jaw. “Joey doesn’t sound like an easy guy to work for,” he blurted.

  Reggie just squinted at him.

  “I, uh, mean that he doesn’t seem too appreciative. You work so hard.” He shrugged, the gesture exaggerated. “And all he does is yell at you. Sounds like you got the short end of the stick, buddy.”

  “I ain’t your buddy.”

  “No,” Al said, scrambling to deflect that blow. “But you’re not Joey’s, either. You think he’s gonna share any of the take with you once you find those diamonds?” He didn’t give Reggie the chance to answer. “Of course not. And that sucks, since you’re the one busting your ass to find them.”

  “Damn straight,” Reggie said.

  Al latched on, moving to sit on the side of his bed closest to Reggie before moving in for the kill. “So why give them to him at all?”

  Reggie frowned. “What the fuck are you driving at? Joey doesn’t make nice with folks who doublecross him. Folks that do that end up dead.”

  “Not if Joey can’t find them.” Al shrugged. “And half a mil can buy a lot of distance between you and Joey Malone.”

  Reggie squinted. “What are you talking about?”

  Al pulled in a breath. Moment of truth time. “I’m saying, why don’t we find the diamonds and split the loot.” He’d be half a mil broker than he’d planned, but right now, that looked better than the alternative. “I can help you get out of the country. I had it all worked out for me.”

  Reggie cracked his knuckles and Al could practically see his brain processing the information. “You fucking weasel,” Reggie said. Not exactly the response Al had been hoping for. “You do know where the diamonds are, don’t you.”

  Al shook his head. “No. No, I don’t. But if we have to do all the legwork to find them, don’t you think we should get the benefit?”

  He held his breath, waiting for Reggie’s response. Finally, the burly guy nodded.

  “So where do we start?”

  Al’s sigh of relief was counterbalanced by the fact that he had no ideas. He got up and started pacing, trying to figure out what had happened. The girl really didn’t seem to have them, but he’d checked the car and they weren’t there, either. Reggie had ripped the upholstery apart, and then Al had searched, too. Hell, he could still remember the feel of the cloth under his hand—

  Cloth?

  “What?” Reggie asked, staring at him.

  Al held up a finger. “Give me a sec.” He tried to remember back to March. It had been dark when he’d gone to the car, but he remembered vinyl. Not cloth—vinyl.

  “She changed out the seats,” he said. “The diamonds are in different seats.” He slammed his fist down on the bed, punctuating the words, then started pacing again. “We need to find the original seats.”

  “So we go back to the old lady’s house, we wait for the chance, and when she’s alone, we grab the girl.” Reggie pounded his fist into his palm. “We make her talk.”

  Al wasn’t entirely convinced that Reggie’s plan would lead to the seats. But he didn’t have a better idea. Of course, the thought of watching Reggie pound Jacey to a pulp wasn’t too appealing, either. But what the hell? Better Jacey than him.

  Right now, at least, Reggie was on Al’s side. And Al intended to do whatever it took to keep him there.

  Jacey kicked her leg up, pretending she was aiming for Reggie’s chin. She lost her footing, tumbled backward, and ended up with her butt in the sand. So much for kicking the shit out of the bad guys.

  She smiled sheepishly at the lifeguard David had asked to keep an eye on her, just in case. “I guess I still need a little practice,” she said.

  “Maybe just a little,” he agreed.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” David said, walking over the beach toward her. “The muggers always appreciate it when you knock yourself down. Much less work for them.”

  “Ha, ha.” She grabbed the hand he offered and climbed to her feet, then brushed the sand off her rear. “What did you find out?”

  “Not a damn thing,” he said. “Apparently Al wasn’t even regi
stered at the hotel—not as Albert Alcott or as Charles Lafontaine.”

  “Did anyone recognize him?”

  “Couldn’t find one person,” David said.

  She snorted.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Just what I told you earlier. After we registered, I was basically seeing Als everywhere.” Maybe not everywhere, but twice she’d thought she’d seen him in the bar, but when she’d looked back, of course he wasn’t there. All in all, a weird kind of déjà vu moment and she chalked it up to having last been in the hotel with Al. She shook off the thought; now, she was with David and, really, there was no comparison. “So what do we do now?” she asked.

  He glanced at his watch. “We’re meeting that fence in fifteen minutes. You ready?”

  She nodded, then said good-bye to her lifeguard buddy before they headed for the terrace restaurant. The fence was already there, looking all shifty-eyed and criminal.

  “Clive Randall?” David asked.

  The guy nodded. “My parole officer said you folks had some questions. You want to tell me what’s up?”

  “Diamonds,” David said, as they took their seats. “I’m wondering if you were hired to fence about a million in diamonds about four months ago.”

  The guy licked his lips and Jacey twisted her napkin in her lap. She was spending a lot of time around the criminal element lately and it was wreaking havoc with her nerves.

  “Don’t worry,” David said. “I’m not a cop. I’m trying to find the guy who hired you.”

  “Stemple,” Clive said.

  Jacey looked at David, who was nodding at Clive. “Right. But who were you supposed to meet?”

  “Some lawyer on the take,” he said and Jacey silently cheered. They’d been right. Al had stolen the diamonds.

  “But you didn’t meet him?”

  Clive shook his head. “I was in the clink waiting for my old lady to bail me out. Damn shame, too. I could’ve made a bundle on that deal.”

  Jacey leaned forward, starting to get into this interrogation thing. “Do you know if someone else in…uh…your line of work showed up?”

  “Don’t know,” Clive said. “But I don’t think so. I would’ve heard through the grapevine.”

  David asked a few more questions, but Jacey knew they were done with Clive. He’d helped, but he hadn’t answered the biggest question: Had Al managed to fence the diamonds?

  “So we’re back to my original question,” Jacey said as they left the terrace and walked back down to the beach. “What now?”

  “Tomorrow we start all over with interviewing the staff. This time, the morning shift. Right now…” He trailed off, his voice laden with possibilities.

  “Mmm,” she said, moving into the circle of his arms. “I think I like the right now option.”

  “I don’t know,” he teased, burying his nose in her hair and tucking her head under his chin. “Maybe you should keep practicing the moves I showed you.”

  She pulled back, scowling. “Well, it’s kind of hard to practice shoving your fingers into the bad guy’s eyes if there’s no bad guy to practice on.” She licked her lips. “Besides, I liked Millie’s idea better.” She slammed her leg out, holding on to him for balance, in her imagination executing a perfect kick to Reggie’s scarred face.

  In reality, she probably looked like she was having a seizure.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but if you’re in a situation where you can’t jam your finger into his eye, but you could kick—”

  “Yeah?”

  “Run.”

  She sighed, then snuggled against him. “Maybe you should just stay close to protect me,” she murmured, then immediately regretted it. He didn’t answer and she regretted it even more. When she tilted her head back, his expression was sad.

  “I wish I could, babe, but I won’t always be there.” He stroked her hair. “And whether I’m there or not, I want you safe.”

  She nodded. He hadn’t exactly said that there was nothing permanent between them, but the message was still there. Nothing had changed.

  She licked her lips. Not true. Everything had changed. Whereas before she hadn’t wanted David—not for real, not forever—now she did. But not enough to risk the life she’d always wanted.

  Which meant she needed to cherish all the more the time they did still have.

  She pressed her face against his chest, breathing deep of his clean, masculine scent. Savoring the moment, because who knew how many more moments she would have with him.

  “Want to take a walk on the beach?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No. I want to go to the room.” She leaned back to look at him, her gaze boring straight into his soul. “Make love to me, David. Make love to me all night long.”

  Chapter 13

  “So I finally get to meet the famous Mr. Monroe.”

  The soft feminine voice pulled me away from a dream. Across my bedroom, a blonde girl with a black-and-blue shiner tapped out a cigarette, then lit it. “Want one?”

  “Those things will kill you,” I said.

  “A lot of things will do that, Mr. Monroe.”

  The dame had a point and I looked at her, wondering if she was as deadly as her words. A dainty blonde, but tough as nails, with a regal haughtiness.

  “Sarah Stamp, I presume.”

  “I told you he was smart.” Mallory’s voice. And then the woman herself, stepping in from the bathroom.

  “Well, looks like the gang’s all here,” I said, my mind trying to sort through the possibilities. “Maybe it’s time I took you home.”

  Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think so, Mr. Monroe. You’re not taking me anywhere.”

  “You’re not on the case, Mr. Monroe,” Mallory added. “Sarah’s safe. You can just go now.”

  “That’s why you got me here? To show me she’s safe and send me on my way?”

  “Exactly,” Mallory said. “You can go back to your little life and I’ll go back to mine.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “It doesn’t pass the smell test.” I sniffed the air. “There’s something going on.”

  “Even if there is,” Sarah said, “you have no idea what or where to begin.”

  I took that in. The dame was right. But still, there was something. Something I was missing…

  And then I remembered and the pieces fell into place. Most of them, anyway. “Oh, yeah,” I said. “I know where to begin.”

  “You’re bluffing, Mr. Monroe,” Sarah said.

  “Am I? Where’d you get that black eye? From Kenny before you killed him? Or did you trip on those high heels?”

  Mallory licked her lips, as she and Sarah exchanged glances. “What are you going to do?”

  I looked at her, trying to decide.

  The truth was, right then, I didn’t give a damn about Sarah or the Colonel or the asshole who’d hit me upside the head. The only one I gave a damn about was Mallory. I wanted her.

  I wanted Mallory and, one way or another, I was going to have her.

  She wasn’t there when his eyes fluttered open and David immediately mourned the loss of her warmth. Rolling over, he glanced at the clock: 3:28. He fell back against the pillow. Too early. Way, way too early.

  He lay there listening for Jacey, concerned when his eyes adjusted and he didn’t see her sitting on the room’s one sofa. He glanced toward the balcony, assuming she’d stepped out to look at the beach in the moonlight. No Jacey. Worried, he tossed off the covers and flipped on the light. Where the hell was she?

  And then he saw the sliver of light peeking out from under the bathroom door. He exhaled, only then realizing just how worried he’d been. He tapped lightly on the door. “You okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Just taking a bath.” A pause, then, “Want to join me?”

  He chuckled. “You’re going to wear me out.”

  “We’re going to wear each other out.”

  He pushed open the door, his body reacting im
mediately to the slick, wet woman in the tub. Her hair was damp, hanging in random curls around her face. A pile of bubbles covered her, totally modest, yet also totally erotic.

  A stack of papers was on the closed toilet lid. He looked closer. Was that—?

  “You said I could,” she said. “I’ve been careful not to get the pages wet.”

  His manuscript. She’d brought his manuscript.

  His stomach clenched. He’d never let anyone read his stuff and he waited for the wave of regret that his cock had overwhelmed his brain when he’d given her permission. But the regret didn’t come. Just the opposite, in fact. “What do you think of it?”

  He half held his breath, her opinion meaning more to him than he’d expected.

  “I love it,” she said.

  “Really love it? Or we-just-had-mind-blowing-sex love it?”

  Her laughter teased his senses and made him hard all over again. “Both,” she said. “But mostly I really loved it. It’s fun and different. You shouldn’t give it up.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not. Postponing a little, maybe. But I can’t give it up.”

  She pressed her lips together and he wondered if she was thinking of her art. Then her face cleared and she aimed a grin his direction. “So how does it end?”

  “Don’t know,” he said. “Monroe hasn’t told me yet.”

  “You’re an odd one, David.”

  He nodded, picking up the pages and sitting down on the closed lid. “That’s part of my charm, sweetheart.”

  “Yeah,” she said, a tone in her voice he couldn’t quite identify. “You’re right about that.”

  “Tired?”

  “A little,” she admitted.

  He held out his hand and she took it, then pulled as she rose from the water like a goddess emerging from the sea. Soap bubbles clung to her, almost as if pointing the way to her most touchable areas. He fought the urge to reach out and claim her, bubbles and all. They needed sleep, and as much as he wanted to make love to her, he also just wanted to hold her close and drift off.