Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3

by Gemma Halliday

  "And you do?" I shot back.

  Danny chuckled, but his jaw tensed.

  Caleigh widened her blue eyes and tried to cover. "He has such a romantic heart."

  Mr. Presley hadn't noticed our conversation though. He said, "Ah, lawyers are scum."

  Caleigh patted his hand.

  To Mr. Presley, I said, "My father started the business. A few years ago, he was injured and needed to step away. I took over."

  "I take it your parents have no sons?"

  I took a deep breath. "Just me."

  He seemed to like that answer, nodding while he chewed. "Children learning the family business is the way it should be."

  "So, Mr. Presley, what do you think of L.A. so far?" Danny asked.

  "There are a lot of cars."

  Danny chuckled. "Most people say smog."

  Mr. Presley said, "I figured that was caused by all the cars."

  Maya and I giggled. Sam shot us a glare. She was not enjoying her evening.

  "So tell me how you hurt your arm, son."

  Danny glanced hesitantly to me before speaking. "It was a gun shot."

  Mr. Presley frowned, setting down his fork. "Oh, my Lord. How does a photographer get shot?"

  "I was helping Jamie and her father with a case."

  "It was an accident, Daddy," Caleigh said then turned to Danny and widened her eyes, as if to say he needed to go along with her.

  "Yes, that's right. The gun went off accidentally," Danny played along, though his "charming future-son-in-law" act was slipping a little.

  When the waitstaff removed our plates and our waitress asked if we'd like dessert, Sam immediately shook her head and said, "No."

  Mr. Presley, however, perked up from his food coma and said, "I'd love a piece of pie. It doesn't matter which kind."

  Stuck for at least another thirty minutes I leaned back into my seat and glanced at the time on my phone. I hadn't meant for anyone to see the impatient gesture, but no such luck.

  "Got somewhere to be tonight, Bond?" Danny asked.

  It wasn't so much the question, but the tone—almost mocking as if he didn't believe I would have any evening plans—that spurred me to answer with a, "Actually, yes, I'm seeing someone later."

  His smirk faltered for a half a second. "Really? Anyone I know?"

  I shrugged. "Just some straight-laced, non-romantic guy." Okay so, it was a small stretch of the truth. Did I plan to see Aiden later? Yes. Only it would likely be through my binocular lenses.

  Danny's smile was tight, suddenly looking made of plastic. "Well, aren't you the popular girl?" he said. Then he took Caleigh's hand into his, holding it on top of the table. The look in his eye? It was rebellion, as if touching her was his way of saying, "Bring it."

  I raised a brow and sipped my coffee. I wasn't going to play his game. If he wanted to tongue Caleigh in front of her father, then that would be fine by me.

  Okay, so maybe not fine.

  Danny jutted his chin down, toward his lap. What the hell…Oh, God, please don't tell me he was trying to hint at some sort of physical attraction happening down below. How crass. How crude. How…honestly unlike Danny.

  No matter how deep I frowned though, he kept doing the movement.

  I finally shrugged and shook my head. I had no clue.

  Aloud he said, "I always find it interesting when people have little habits they repeatedly do when they're stressed or nervous or bothered by something." He put emphasis on the "bothered."

  Caleigh laughed like a woman who always chuckled at her husband's jokes, even though they weren't funny.

  He squeezed Caleigh's fingers. "A person may deny something is bothering them but that telltale sign suggests otherwise. Like when someone shakes their foot up and down."

  What was he blabbering about?

  Then I looked down at my lap and realized. I was bouncing my leg. Danny knew I did that when upset.

  I looked up, and his grin was a mile wide.

  The jerk.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Same parking spot, same bat channel. But this time I brought a baggie of green, seedless grapes and trail mix. A little better than Cheetos. I wasn't really hungry after dinner though. They were for just in case the night dragged on into the wee hours.

  I zeroed in on Aiden's office, but it was dark, and I couldn't make out any activity on the rest of the floor. He was still in the building though. His car was in the parking lot.

  I lowered my binoculars and focused on the front door. If Rocco showed up, I wanted to catch a glimpse of him immediately.

  I switched on the radio, but "Love Me Tender" played, so I turned it off. I wanted no more reminders of Daddy Presley. I don't think I'd ever met a more sexist man. Having spent the evening with him, I imagined Caleigh took after her mother. She never talked much about her. Like how I rarely spoke of my mom. I thought about her every day, but I didn't want to share the memories I locked up in my mind. I still missed her too much. Perhaps Caleigh felt the same way.

  The building's door moved inward, and suddenly Aiden was in my view, holding it open. I blinked out of my thoughts and focused on the man. Going home so early? He looked to his left, a smile on his face. He was talking to someone. Who…

  Miranda, all shiny, dark hair and long legs, stepped out ahead of him. I knew he was a gentleman, but I kinda wished a gust of wind would've forced it out of his grip and hit her in the ass as she passed through.

  They walked to the corner. I expected them to stop, say their good nights at an appropriate distance, and to walk in separate directions to their cars. They didn't. She followed him to his car across the parking lot. Maybe she needed to give him a file or they were discussing a case before they parted ways.

  No such luck though.

  He held open his passenger door and she slithered inside. When his rear lights lit up, and he pulled out of his space, my hand instinctively turned on my ignition. Maybe her car wouldn't start or someone had slashed her tires (now there was a thought!), and Aiden was simply giving her a ride home. He was chivalrous and kind enough to do something so disgusting.

  I pulled out onto the street and stayed two car lengths behind them. Tailing 101.

  I tried to make out their heads in the dark. Were they talking, laughing, had she placed hers in his lap? The little green monster not only reared its ugly head but roared awake and wanted to bite someone's jugular.

  When Aiden turned the next corner, I thought I'd be ill. I watched him pull into a small parking lot beside Franco's.

  He did not.

  Oh my God, this was a date. When he said he wasn't ready for a relationship, was he really saying he didn't want one with me? Was this his usual spot, where he took all women? Had he been some kind of Romeo all along and I hadn't picked up on it? Was I losing my touch? What a jerk. I wasn't sure if I was more upset with him or myself.

  I wanted to hate him, but this crushing sadness weighed on my chest. I thought this was our special place.

  I parked across the street, wanting a great view and praying he wouldn't look over and recognize my car as they went inside.

  They rounded the corner and Miranda had her arm hooked around Aiden's. Part of me wanted to lay on the horn and scare the crap out of them. They entered the restaurant and the maître d showed them to a cozy table for two by the front windows. Wasn't that where he and I had sat?

  My nose tingled as if I was about to start crying, but that was ridiculous because I didn't cry.

  I grabbed the binoculars, but it took me a moment to hold them up to my face. I wasn't certain I wanted to see hand holding or other romantic gestures. As if Danny and Caleigh's fake lovey-dovey faces hadn't been nauseating enough tonight, I wasn't sure I could stomach Aiden and Mirada's real ones. But stubborn curiosity got the better of me.

  Aiden spoke to the server while Miranda read the menu. The white tablecloths were long, so I couldn't tell if she was playing footsie under the table, but there was a smirk on her face.


  The server left, and Aiden turned his attention to her. He probably didn't need to look at the menu. If he brought all his women here, he probably knew it by heart. Friday was chicken marsala, Saturday stuffed shells, and Sunday fettuccine alfredo. So what was Tuesday night?

  Betrayal platter with a side of marinara sauce?

  My phone rang, and I gladly welcomed the distraction. The caller ID listed a number but the word private. "Hello?"

  "Jamie?" said a low, raspy voice. I knew immediately who it was. Elaine. Crap.

  "Yes."

  "It's Elaine. Derek's…friend."

  "Hi, how are you?"

  She hesitated before answering. "Okay." It was a lie. I heard anxiousness and apprehension in her tone. "I was wondering about your father. Have you spoken with him?"

  "Uh, not lately," I said honestly.

  She paused. "I thought he was working on a case with you."

  Right. Crap. I squeezed my eyes shut and choked out the lie Derek told me to give. "Right, yes, he is. What I meant was he's been hard at work. You know, not really calling all that much. On assignment and all that." Geeze with all the cheating I'd seen in my life, you'd think I'd be better at covering it up.

  "Oh." I could hear a million questions in that one word.

  "He should be back soon," I told her. I had no idea if it was true or not, but I felt like I had to give her something hopeful to hold onto.

  "He's not…I mean…"

  "What?"

  "It's silly. I don't know why I'd even think this, but I guess I was just sort of worried that maybe he was using this whole story about working for you as a cover. That he was seeing someone else."

  Wow. That Elaine was a smart cookie.

  "But obviously that's just me being paranoid." She laughed high and loudly in a way that held zero humor.

  I suddenly felt like the scum of the earth lying to her. Damn Derek. Damn Aiden, Danny, and all men in general.

  Before I could stop myself, I heard my voice saying, "I need a drink. Want to join me, Elaine?"

  Elaine and I met at Citylights, a hole in the wall that had cheap cocktails, loyal regulars, and plenty of dark, anonymous booths for drowning your sorrows. Come to find out Elaine didn't live that far from me, and this place was smack dab in the middle. And since she was already closer, I found her waiting at the bar when I walked in. And this place was all bar.

  When you walked in, there was a strip of floor that led to either the bar, the jukebox, the restrooms, or a back exit sign. I'd only been in here once. It was about a year ago after an especially long day of stakeouts and spying. My bones were weary, my mind fully alert, and there was no alcohol in my apartment. This had seemed like the best choice.

  Tonight it was slow, even for a weekday night.

  I sat beside her and ordered a margarita on the rocks.

  "You seem to be having as bad a night as I am," she said and sipped her pint glass of very dark beer.

  "Very much. But here's to it almost being over."

  "So it can start again?" Elaine's sarcasm was thicker than my own.

  "Cheers." I clicked my glass against hers and drank a mouthful. I was past the polite and ladylike portion of the evening.

  She chuckled. "I thought meeting with my…with Derek's daughter would be intimidating."

  I almost choked on my drink. "Why?"

  "You're beautiful. I remember seeing you on the covers of Sport's Illustrated and Vogue. But you're actually down-to-earth."

  I smiled. Everyone always had preconceived notions about models. They assumed we were all anorexic and survived on soda crackers, celery, and diet soda, or that we were dumb. I could throw down a cheeseburger with the burliest of men. And while I didn't have a PhD, I ran a successful business and drove a killer car.

  "Derek said you weren't stuck up, but seeing how he's your dad, I wasn't sure if he was biased," Elaine said.

  The last conversation I wanted to have tonight was about the two of them. I couldn't deal with another man. "Let's not talk about Derek tonight. Is that okay?"

  She smiled. "Yes, that's great. So how's work?"

  If we discussed the agency, we'd sooner or later hit the topic of Derek, so I steered the conversation to safer grounds. "It's fine. But what about you? Do you like working at the station?"

  I'd first encountered Elaine when Derek had directed us to one of his "special friends" at Channel Four in conjunction with another case.

  "It's okay. The hours are fine. Pay is okay. That could always be better. I wouldn't mind finding something a bit more adventurous though. Not quite being a PI, but not answering phones either," she said. "I'm not sure what though. Did you always want to be a model?"

  "Actually I never considered it before I was approached by an agent. At first I thought of being an actress. Growing up in L.A., the idea of making it into Hollywood is everywhere."

  Looking back now, I realized acting was a part of my career choices—not that the second career had been much of a choice. I couldn't say no to Derek because he was family. If I had to do it all over again though, I'd end up exactly where I was. I loved modeling, but I was glad it didn't have a long shelf-life. And now, being a private investigator was pretty rad. I was a bit disillusioned at first, with the number of cheating spouses in L.A., but in our own special way, the agency helped people. That made up for it.

  "What about you?" I asked.

  She sipped her drink then laughed. Loud. "I don't exactly have the look Hollywood prefers."

  Elaine was small in height and rather large in the chest. The double D's might have been a selling point to casting agents, but the three-packs-a-day smoker's voice was not.

  As if she could read my thoughts, she reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of Marlboros. Since she wasn't legally allowed to smoke in a public place, even a bar, she just tapped the pack on the counter several times.

  "What did you dream of doing?" I asked, bringing my glass to my lips again.

  "Well that's just it. I didn't have any true dreams, the ones of becoming famous or rich. I grew up in Chicago with a single mom. It was rough at times. I assumed I'd get a job waiting tables, like her, or maybe go to nursing school."

  "But you didn't?"

  She shook her head. "No. I fell in love and followed the boy to L.A. How original, right?"

  I smiled. "It happens. Love is a powerful thing."

  We both slipped into a melancholic haze. I snapped out of it fast though. I couldn't afford to wallow about Aiden, and I wasn't talking about Derek.

  "You decided to stay here though. You didn't want to return home?"

  She snapped her fingers at the bartender and pointed to our glasses. Hers was empty, but I still had half a drink left. "By the time he and I split, Mom had passed away."

  "I'm sorry. I lost my mother young, too." There we were slipping down that Derek slope again. Was there no way to avoid him?

  "And L.A. is home for me, too. I love it here. I never want to leave. Although I wouldn't mind traveling."

  "Where would you like to go?"

  The bartender set two more drinks down, and Elaine fished a twenty from her wallet. "My treat. No argument."

  I only smiled. A free drink was close to a free meal in my book.

  "Paris definitely. And Rome, London, Madrid…the popular places, but I don't want to go as a tourist and see the attractions. I want to see what the locals do."

  "So you'll need a local guide for each city. A hot Italian and Frenchman and so on," I said, starting to loosen up and feel relaxed.

  She leaned closer. "Are there any hot Frenchmen?"

  I had to think about that. "Michael Vartan from Alias."

  Her eyes widened. "The boyfriend?"

  I nodded.

  "Oooh, oui."

  We laughed and continued dishing about hot men of all nationalities. We stayed away from the topic of any real men in our lives, and by the end of the night, or the early hours of the next day, I was glad I'd opted for margaritas wi
th Elaine versus torturing myself about Franco's. She was a nice lady. She deserved great things.

  And if Derek really was cheating on her, I was gonna kill him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Here you go, boss." Maya handed me the printed-out photos I took of the car shop thugs. "The three of them, Cortez, Alvarez, and Santos, are affiliated in one way or another with an arm of the Mexican mafia. The crew of a man named Eduardo Vega."

  Mexican mafia? That was more than a low-level guy in Inglewood who sold to strippers.

  But before I could respond, the main door opened, and Caleigh and her father walked in. A sigh escaped before I could stop it.

  "Well good morning, ladies." Mr. Presley tipped his hat at us before taking it off and holding it at his chest. "I understand why my princess enjoys L.A. so much. The weather is gorgeous."

  Caleigh squeezed his arm. "Daddy and I had an early breakfast." Her smile was forced.

  "She introduced me to Who-vos Ran-cher-ous."

  Maya and I blinked at him.

  "Huevos Rancheros," Caleigh translated.

  He held a hand over his belly. "It was a bit spicy. I hope my system can handle it. But it was very delicious. I hadn't realized I'd be eating foreign foods when I came to California."

  I was proud of myself that I resisted the giant eye roll just begging to accompany his statement.

  He widened his blue eyes. "I'd like to apologize to you lovely ladies, as well as Miss Cross, if I came across as stuffy last night. My daughter seems to think I offended y'all with my talk of women in the home and having babies."

  Maya and I looked at one another not sure how to agree without coming across as rude.

  Luckily he kept talking and wasn't looking for a response. "I was born in a time when that was normal. Sometimes it's hard to change your thoughts when the world changes. I meant no disrespect."

  He seemed like a nice man, and he loved his daughter, wanted the best for her. I decided to cut him some slack.

  I stepped forward and took his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Presley. That means a lot to us. It's hard living in a man's world."

  I hadn't exactly meant that the way he obviously took it, but when he smiled and squeezed my hand, correcting his assumption didn't matter.