Fearless Pursuit (Off The Grid: FBI Series Book 8)

by Barbara Freethy

  "I can see why an experience like that would leave you with some fears about the ocean," Jax said. "But you don't seem like a girl who lets fear stop her from doing what she wants."

  "And it wouldn't stop me if I wanted to surf, but I don't. Should we go inside? It looks like there's a line."

  "I put our name in a few minutes ago. It will be five or ten minutes."

  "That's good. Sorry I'm a little late. I had to drive back from Carlsbad this morning."

  "How did the emergency family meeting go?"

  "It was better than I thought. It was just my sister. My mom called her crying hysterically after I left my parents' house. Darcy wanted to know what the hell I was doing. I explained about the food bag in the car and all that. She didn't want to think that Dad had lied about being in the car with his mother, but she did say she had an encounter with him when she was a teenager. It was the anniversary of my grandmother's death and apparently my father was drunk, which is unusual, because he never drinks anything. He mumbled guilty words about having let his mom down and making a terrible mistake."

  "So, now you're both thinking he was in the car."

  "I don't believe he killed her, Jax. But I think he lied. Maybe he was scared, and then it was too late to take it back. He doesn't want me digging into that night, because he's afraid I'll figure it out."

  "Which you may have done already."

  "When I talked to him, he wouldn't say anything about it. He just walked out. And he apparently left the house after I did, which made my mother more upset. I wish I knew where he went. I called my mom this morning, and she wouldn't talk to me. She just said he was back and until I could tell them I was done with this search for the truth, they had nothing more to say to me."

  "And this doesn't slow you down at all?" he quizzed.

  "It should," she said, giving him a guilty smile. "But I just can't let go of this mystery. I keep turning over new facts, and I'm caught up in it now. I did some research this morning into Julia Poplova, the woman I told you about last night."

  "The Lark."

  "Yes. She was eight years younger than Natasha, which surprised me, as I thought they would be closer in age, but she was born in the same city as my grandmother, so perhaps their families knew each other. Julia's professional tennis career ended with a knee injury when she was twenty-eight, which was about two months before Natasha died. She disappeared for a long time. The next mention I found on her was twenty years ago. She and her husband Ron Baxter, who was a real-estate developer, built a small tennis club in a new housing development in Marina Del Rey. Baxter died ten years after that, but Julia was pictured a few years ago in an interior design magazine featuring her home, which is next to the tennis club."

  Jax smiled. "You're quite the detective, Maya."

  "I'm just good on the internet. Anyway, I'm thinking of driving over to the club after our meal. I would love company. Unless you have other things to do?"

  "I have to work at the club tonight, but I don't have to be there until five, so sure, why not? I'd like to meet the Lark."

  "Great."

  "I don't know if it will be great, but I'm sure it will be interesting."

  "I hope it is more than interesting. I need someone to tell me something specific. I do appreciate your help. I like bouncing ideas off you. You're very insightful."

  "I don't think I've offered that much. But happy to help if I can."

  She nodded. "By the way, it's nice to see you wearing something other than black."

  He grinned. "It's nice to be out of uniform." He paused as his name was called. "Our table is ready."

  They made their way into the charming farm-to-table restaurant that was filled with whimsical décor and plenty of fresh flowers. They sat on an outdoor patio with a view of the ocean. A waiter poured them two cups of coffee, filled their water glasses, and dropped off their menus.

  "This is spectacular," she said. "We got lucky."

  "I've been here a few times before, so I was able to score a good table."

  "Because the hostesses were all drooling over you," she said dryly, not having missed the flirtatious smiles the two young women had thrown Jax's way.

  "Were they? I didn't notice," he said with a laugh.

  "Oh, I think you did."

  "Jealous?"

  She was about to say no and then she decided to be honest. "Maybe a little. I like you, Jax."

  Surprise flared in his eyes. "I like you, too, Maya."

  "I'm glad to hear it. You were a little hot and cold yesterday."

  "I'm just trying to do a good job, and you're a big distraction."

  "I like being a distraction, and I get it. I'm at the club to solve my mystery, but it's your job, and I don't want to interfere with that."

  "I do need to be careful about being seen with you, especially because you're making people nervous with your questions. Even though I want to help you, I don't want to jeopardize my job and if certain people think we're working together…"

  "Like Sylvia?"

  "Yes. And some of the members as well."

  "Speaking of members, we never talked about the fact that Ryland Jagger and Victoria are having an affair and David is apparently blackmailing them."

  "That was something."

  "I wonder what's going to happen. Do you think Sylvia will fire her son?"

  "She should, but who knows?"

  "She's an odd woman. She seems to feel a tremendous need to protect the club members from me, as if I'm a huge threat. And I can't quite figure out why."

  "Because the club is not just a job to her."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I found out last night that Sylvia's father was one of the original five investors in the club. His name was Edward Coleman. Did he show up in your grandmother's journals?"

  "Coleman?" She thought for a moment, as she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip. "I don't think so. Unless he was one of the nicknames. I'm still looking for the Wolf, the Doctor, the Surfer… What did he do for a living?"

  "He was in law and then in politics."

  "He could be the Wolf."

  "That does seem fitting."

  "Sylvia said she knew my father when he was younger. I thought it was just from when she first worked at the club. But maybe she knew him before that, because she was one of the members' kids and so was my dad. But she didn't volunteer that information when I spoke to her. I wonder if she's protecting her father."

  "That's possible. She's also close to Constantine and Alexander."

  "Yes, although I thought Constantine treated her like a waitress when I met with him. He asked her to bring me a drink, like she was a server. I don't think she liked that."

  "I'm sure she didn't. She definitely wants everyone to respect her and to toe the line, which is why—"

  "You didn't want her to see us together. Not just because you were kissing me, but because I'm creating problems," she finished.

  "Actually, you were kissing me, remember?"

  She smiled as she met his teasing blue gaze. "I think it was mutual."

  He gave her a sexy grin. "It was definitely mutual. But, yes, I don't want her to think I got the job at the club because I'm trying to help you dig up dirt."

  "It didn't occur to me that she would think that, but you're right. I would have been very smart to get someone inside the club to feed me information. I guess I'm not that good of a detective."

  "You're doing very well, and it wouldn't have been easy for you to plant someone at the club. I only got in because I speak Russian."

  "You do?" she asked in surprise. "I didn't know that."

  An odd shadow flitted through his eyes. "I didn't mention that?"

  "No, you didn't."

  Now he seemed a bit uncomfortable with the idea that he'd shared something he hadn't meant to share. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip. Then he said, "My parents were Russian. I'm a little rustier in the language now than I used to be, but I can still understand
a drink order, and some of the older guys like to give their orders in Russian."

  "Which makes you a valuable employee. Were your parents born in Russia?"

  "Yes. My mother came to the States with her family when she was a child. She met my father at Georgetown when they were both sophomores. He was there on scholarship. They said it was instant love. They got married right after graduation and had me shortly thereafter."

  "That's interesting. Have you ever been to Russia? Did you ever see where they were born, where they grew up?"

  "No. They always talked about showing me their country, but we never got there. I have to say that being around all these Russians every day makes me want to go."

  "Me, too. I want to see where my grandmother was born and walk the streets she talks about in her journals."

  "You should do that before you make the movie."

  "I will. Anyway, I want to reassure you that if I'm at the club when you're at the club, I will pretend not to know you."

  "Thank you. I'm glad you understand."

  "I get it. I'm happy that you explained. I thought I was reading you wrong last night."

  He gazed back at her. "You weren't reading me wrong. But we need to keep anything personal away from the club."

  "Does that mean we are going to be personal outside of the club?"

  "I think so," he said, meeting her eyes.

  Her heart skipped a beat. "Okay then." She paused as the waitress came over to ask them what they wanted to eat. She took a quick look at the menu and ordered a spinach and feta cheese omelet with hash browns, and a side of turkey bacon.

  Jax handed his menu to the waitress. "I'll do the same but add a side of buttermilk pancakes."

  "You've got it," the waitress said, moving on to the next table.

  "So, what else do you do for fun?" she asked Jax. "I know you surf. What other passions do you have?"

  "I like to bike along the beach, work out, pick up a basketball game every now and then, that kind of stuff."

  She rested her arms on the table, giving him a contemplative look. "You don't talk much about your acting career. What was your last role?"

  "I was in a play in New York last year for a few weeks."

  "Really? What was it?"

  "It was an off-Broadway show called Blue Moon. Very small theater. About fifty people would show up on the weekend nights, less on the weekdays."

  "Did you enjoy it?"

  "It was fun. But I've been trying to break into the business for a while, and I think I'm done. There comes a point when you have to accept reality."

  "I don't think that's true. You don't have to accept it if you want to change it. Some people think I should give up my dream to make movies, but why should I? Maybe my road to the top will be different than anyone else's, but until I run out of road, I'm not quitting."

  "I've seen some of your bulldog stubbornness. It's impressive."

  "You don't seem like the kind of man who just quits something because it's not working. You seem like someone who would fight."

  "Maybe I just need to fight for something else."

  "That could be true. You have to want it to fight for it. And if you don't really want it, then maybe you should find what you do want."

  "It's not always that easy."

  "It's not always that hard. Is there anything else you've ever thought of doing?"

  He hesitated and then shrugged. "Bartending isn't bad. New people at the bar every night. I get to hear some good stories, and I don't have to take my work home with me."

  "But is it enough?" she challenged.

  "Maybe. I don't worry that much about the future. I think short term, not long term. It makes things simpler."

  "And you don't like complicated."

  "Fewer headaches."

  "But you have a sharp, inquisitive mind. The way you've helped me analyze the data I've been getting is impressive. I don't know, Jax. I feel like there's something you're not telling me about your career aspirations. Like you don't quite add up."

  "You don't add up, either, Maya. That's what makes you interesting. Hopefully, that's what makes me interesting."

  She smiled. "You do have me very interested."

  "Tell me about your actual job. What do you do when you're not trying to crack a cold case?"

  "I make a lot of coffee runs. I read scripts, go to meetings, run errands, babysit actors when they're on set, make sure the producers and directors have everything they need. I do everything and yet sometimes it feels very much like nothing. I keep telling myself that I'm learning. Since I started at the bottom, I know how to do a lot of jobs, and when I'm a director one day, I'll be able to put the right people in the right job. I'll understand every aspect of the production."

  "That's a good way to look at it."

  "I've always felt that practical experience is the best, which is why I dropped out of college after three years, which gave my parents a heart attack. But I just wanted to start working. I didn't want to keep reading about stuff—I wanted to take action. I probably would have been better off getting the degree."

  "Or maybe not."

  "Did you go to college?"

  "I did. My parents insisted on it, but I spent more time partying than studying."

  "Did you have a lot of girlfriends?"

  "What's a lot?"

  She laughed. "Forget it. You just answered my question. What about recently? Have you had a relationship in the last year?"

  "Nope. I haven't done anything serious in a few years."

  "But you have done serious?"

  "As serious as I get, which wasn't as serious as she wanted it to be." He paused. "We broke up because we realized we didn't have the same goals."

  "You didn't love her."

  "I didn't say that."

  "You didn't have to. When you're talking about goals, you're not talking about love or passion."

  "There was plenty of passion."

  "I'm sure, but that's not what I mean. Did you love her?" she questioned.

  "No," he admitted. "Love is… I don't know. Why are we talking about love?"

  "Because our food isn't here yet. What were you going to say?" she asked curiously. "Love is…"

  "Too complicated for a simple man like me."

  "Was that really what you were going to say?" she challenged.

  "I'd answer but our food is here, and you said we were only talking about love because we didn't have anything to eat."

  "Nice sidestep," she said dryly, but she had to admit the delicious omelet in front of her was even more distracting than Jax. "We'll get back to it later."

  "There's really nothing to get back to. I don't do love." His gaze grew more serious. "Maybe you need to know that up front."

  Now she was sorry she'd started this thread. "You don't have to worry. I'm not on the hunt for love."

  "Are you sure? You seem very interested in the subject."

  "Right now, I'm just interested in my eggs." She picked up her fork and dug in.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jax enjoyed breakfast with Maya. After ending the increasingly uncomfortable discussion about love and relationships, they'd fallen into easy conversation. Maya had told him funny and often self-deprecating stories about her job as a production assistant. Reading between the lines, he could see that while she did the work and played the game, there was a rebel inside just dying to break loose, to be the person she was meant to be.

  Solving the mystery of her grandmother's death would give her an opportunity to do what she really wanted to do, and that was probably as big of a motivator as anything. Of course, she also wanted answers for her grandfather and to get justice for Natasha. But telling her grandmother's story seemed like a metaphor for telling her own story, for becoming the woman, the filmmaker, that she wanted to be.

  As the check came, and he put down his credit card, he felt a wave of disappointment that the meal was over. He wanted to keep talking to her. He wanted to keep watching the ligh
t play through her eyes, the smile that parted her lips, the way she energetically waved her hands when she was trying to make a point, the curve of her neck when the breeze lifted her thick, dark hair into the air.

  He sucked in a quick breath, realizing how crazy he was sounding, even to himself. He'd known Maya only a few days, and she'd already complicated his life, his case. He should be thinking about ways to stop seeing her instead of ways to keep seeing her more.

  "Do you still want to go to Julia's with me?" Maya asked.

  He should say no. He should put some distance between them. But instead, he said, "Absolutely. I'm interested to hear what she'll say." He told himself that he was still working the case, because Julia might have information that he could use as well. But, really, he just didn't want to say good-bye to Maya just yet.

  "Are you ready to go?" she asked.

  "Let's do it," he said, getting to his feet. As they made their way through the restaurant, he put his hand on the small of her back, needing to touch her, needing to keep feeling the connection between them, and that need made him uncomfortable. But not uncomfortable enough to let go of her.

  One day, he told himself. One day soon he'd walk away. He had to.

  As close as they were getting, he was also lying to her, and if he wanted to come clean, he would have to choose between his job and her. And his job was everything.

  Jax glanced over at Maya as he drove her to Julia's house. They'd decided to leave her car at the restaurant rather than following each other. Her earlier happy mood seemed to be evaporating the closer they got to Marina Del Rey. Now, she was tapping her fingers restlessly on the armrest.

  "Nervous?" he asked, as he turned down Julia's street.

  "A little. I haven't done very well with the men who loved Natasha; I'm hoping I might get further with one of her friends."

  "Does Julia live alone?"

  "I don't know. I guess we'll find out. It's the home next to the tennis clubhouse. At least, that's what it showed in the photo I saw."

  He parked the car in front of the tennis club, which consisted of a small clubhouse and four courts, two of which were full. The house next door was surrounded by six-foot-tall hedges, giving it a great deal of privacy from the club. They opened a gate and walked down a tree-lined path to the front door of the one-story villa. He rang the bell and they waited several moments, but he couldn't hear anyone coming.