Secret Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries)

by Gemma Halliday

  I considered making coffee but didn't want to derail this conversation. Plus I kinda valued my internal organs. Drinking that sludge would surely kill them. Instead I reached into the cooler he'd set on the floor, and grabbed a second beer.

  He quirked an eyebrow. "Aren't you driving? Or do you plan on spending the night?"

  And be privy to the sounds of him and tonight's bed partner? No thank you. I set the bottle down.

  He grabbed it, popped the top, and guzzled half of it in one gulp. "You were right about Brady and me. We were buddies. In fact, he was one of few cops I ever considered a friend, even a close one."

  I imagined them at the bar, chatting about their days on the streets wrangling criminals and cheating spouses. In my experience, cops didn't take PIs too seriously. They must've connected on some other level as well.

  "What happened?"

  "I'd been following Bernstein. His wife hired me to catch him cheating. One night I watched a young man leave Bernstein's office building, get into a car, and hand the driver money."

  I knew this part but didn't want to stop his flow, so I remained quiet. I leaned back in my seat and tried to relax, but the tension in my neck and shoulders was too tight.

  "I recognized Brumhill immediately, but had to tail the young guy to find out he was a drug dealer. Campbell."

  I knew it was silly to worry about Derek. He was more seasoned than I, and more stubborn. Maybe. But the idea of him nosing around in gang territory made my skin itch. After the shooting, I guess I saw him as weak and in need of protecting. If he ever knew I thought of him that way, he'd be crushed. And I'd be the one in need of protection.

  "It happened several times over a few days."

  This was new information. "But I only saw one surveillance tape."

  He smirked. "The others are hidden elsewhere. Just in case."

  In case he died that night. I pinched the bridge of my nose to keep my impending headache at bay.

  "So, what happened?"

  "I figured out that Bernstein was facilitating cover-ups between our ex-Mayor and a drug cartel. Anytime one of the members was too stupid and got caught by the cops, Bernstein would go through the legal motions, but Brumhill would grease the wheels so no one got convicted."

  Which meant that this corruption extended into the justice system, too. Great. More of our tax dollars keeping the criminals on the street.

  "What did Brumhill get out of this? I mean, it was a huge risk."

  "It was. But it was financing Brumhill's campaigns. He needed the cash, believe it or not. Honest money is hard to come by in politics."

  That I did believe. "But he's retired."

  "Now. I imagine he has vacation homes in a couple of exotic locations."

  Everything was sliding into place in my brain, except . . . "So you . . . did what?"

  "I didn't know where to turn, who to trust. I knew Brumhill had to have several inside people on the take. So I gave copies of everything to the one guy I thought I could trust."

  Brady.

  "I didn't know what he would do with the information after that," he went on. "I figured he'd get it into the right hands, slip it to IA or something. Go high enough up the chain that Brumhill couldn't pay everyone off. I had no idea he'd kill Bernstein."

  I stared into Derek's eyes. A deep frown had practically swallowed them. I reached forward and squeezed his fingers. "You couldn't have known. But you should've told me everything."

  "I couldn't. I was trying to keep you safe." His voice cracked.

  "Me? I wasn't involved."

  "And I wanted to keep it that way. If you knew, you wouldn't have let it go."

  He was right. I definitely would've taken action.

  "Look, James, after Bernstein died, the tapes never surfaced. A lot of people are invested in making sure it stays that way. Brady and I, we're what you'd call loose ends. Brady's about to go away for life. You think I wanted my daughter putting the target on her back?"

  I shook my head. "But don't you want it off yours?"

  Derek laughed. "As long as I keep my damned mouth shut, Bernstein's death is the biggest of my sins." His laugh died on that last thought, the frown pulling at his eyes again.

  "You couldn't have known," I repeated. "Maybe Brady didn't even set out to shoot Bernstein. I mean, maybe he's telling the truth and Bernstein came there with the gun."

  He leaned back in his seat to ponder.

  "Do you think Brady shot you?" I asked.

  "I didn't before Aiden told you the gun that killed Bernstein was also used to shoot me. Now I'm not so sure."

  "It definitely looks incriminating, but it's possible Bernstein brought it to Brady's house . . . "

  "To shoot Brady," Derek finished for me. "Maybe Brady took the info to Bernstein or even Brumhill and tried blackmailing them, and they wanted him out of the way."

  I nodded. We were going down the same road. "And not only did they find out that Brady knew but you did, too."

  We sat quiet in our satisfaction for a moment. Until Derek said, "Or Brady's lying and he killed Bernstein for any number of reasons, not the least of which could have been he was on the take, too."

  "You think Brumhill thought Bernstein was a loose end?"

  Derek shrugged. "Who knows. Bernstein was facilitating the pay-offs, but he was just a pawn. Easy to replace."

  "Or maybe Brady thought he was taking justice into his own hands," I said, remembering the news articles I'd read about him.

  Derek nodded. "He was a bit of a loose cannon back then."

  "He still is." Reluctantly, I told him about Brady surprising me in my car after work.

  His face reddened. "Did he touch you?"

  "No. He was just trying to scare me." Looking back on it, I believed what I said. If he'd wanted to hurt me, he would've done so. He had plenty of opportunity.

  "What did Aiden have to say about that? And why didn't the cops revoke his bail? Don't tell me he's paying someone off now."

  I shook my head. "I never called the police or told Aiden."

  His eyebrows nearly jumped off his face. "Since when don't you follow the law?"

  "Seriously? Do you know me at all? I may not be greasing palms to get what I want, but a little innocent B&E to gather evidence never hurt anyone. I am your daughter after all."

  He smiled full and proud. "Yes, you are."

  I thought of Charley and Ruth. They'd only wanted proof of an affair. If it had been my husband, I would've done the same thing. Except I would've waited until Belle wasn't home. Then again, I also would've confronted the husband first. With the baseball bat for insurance.

  "Unfortunately, we may never know what really happened to Bernstein," Derek said, interrupting my thoughts.

  And that's where the fork in the road appeared, and while he veered to the left, I ventured to the right. There was no way in hell I was taking not knowing as an option. I'd get some answers, even if it meant hog-tying Brumhill and delivering water torture until he spilled. No more mysteries.

  * * *

  After parking my car, I walked to the front steps of my building and was surprised to find Aiden sitting there, waiting for me. It was as if we were on the same wave length, and he knew how draining my day had been.

  Out of his usual designer suit collection, he wore dark, fitted jeans and a T-shirt. His hair was still perfectly gelled in place. Not for long though. I planned on getting my fingers in there and messing up his hard work.

  "Well, you're a nice surprise," I told him.

  "I wanted to see you."

  I smiled, probably displaying my molars. "The feeling's mutual," I said, totally meaning it. "You want to come up?"

  "I'm not sure that's a good idea." Aiden gave me a wan smile, and my radar perked up. That was not the expression of a guy excited about the prospect of a hot night with a hot girl.

  "Okay. What's up?" I asked, almost not wanting to hear an answer.

  Aiden cleared his throat. "I spent the day going
over notes and working on the case, but I couldn't concentrate. Thoughts of you and the other night kept interjecting."

  I nodded. He was thinking about me. That was a good thing, right? So why did I feel like something bad was about to come out of his mouth. "The other night was fun," I said, trying to lighten the suddenly heavy mood.

  Aiden nodded. "It was. Fun."

  It sounded like a "but" should follow, but he didn't say a word. Finally I couldn't take it anymore.

  "But?"

  "But I don't think I should come up tonight."

  He'd already said that. And that was when I knew something was really wrong. Aiden didn't fumble with his words. Words were his weapons, his skills of the trade. If he was grasping for them now, something was up.

  My chest squeezed out a heavy breath. I sat beside him.

  Neither of us said a word. I stared up at the sky and tried to focus on the stars, but as I waited for him to clue me in, I ran through the possibilities. He was moving back to Kansas City. His old job offered him a raise, and he was leaving as soon as Brady's case was done. Or was it something about Brady's case? Had he found something more about the gun? About Derek's connection to Brady? If he knew I was holding out on him, I wasn't sure he'd be jumping at the chance to play tonsil hockey with me again.

  A horn honked down the street. Shouts were heard from inside my building. A woman yelled at her husband to lower the TV. Typical sounds yet they gnawed at my composure.

  "There's something going on. Just go ahead and tell me. Are you leaving L.A.?" I asked.

  He frowned for a second. "No, nothing like that. I love my job. I'm getting used to the city. And I love my . . . new friends."

  I raised an eyebrow his way. Was that supposed to refer to me? "Then what is it? Why did you want to see me? Because I'm getting the feeling it's not for my hot little dress tonight?"

  There was that wan smile again. "I'm having a hard time of it."

  "The case? It's understandable . . . "

  He shook his head. "Not the case."

  I held my breath. Aiden cleared his throat. The tension was thick enough to cut with a stiletto.

  "Look, the other night was fun . . . "

  "You already said that," I cut in.

  More throat clearing. "Right. It was more than fun. It felt good, exciting. Something I haven't felt in a long time."

  I felt that "but" hanging in the air again. "Go on."

  "It just didn't feel right."

  And there it was.

  I stared out at the street where the tenants parked. The row of cars blurred. It was amazing how quickly my body reacted to this new development, yet my mind hadn't caught up yet. My throat constricted, and I told myself to ignore it. I mean, it wasn't as if he'd proposed and was taking back the ring. It was one night of lip-lock.

  "Look, it's not you," he said quickly, the words flooding out now. "I like you, Jamie. I honestly do. I've enjoyed getting to know you, spending time with you. You're smart, beautiful, interesting."

  I couldn't help an ironic laugh at how all my wonderful traits were surfacing as he dumped me.

  "Wow, I sound like a catch," I said, painfully aware that sarcasm was not one of my more attractive traits.

  "You are," Aiden said, the sincerity in his voice the polar opposite to my statement. "I just couldn't stop thinking about . . . her."

  "Her?" I jumped on the word, turning to him.

  "Sarah," he said quietly.

  Shit. "Your wife."

  He nodded. "I thought I was ready to move on, but . . . I don't know. As much as I wanted to be there with you the other night, she was still somehow there, too. And that's not fair. To either of us."

  He was still in mourning for his dead wife. As much as I wanted to hate him for the brush off I was getting, I couldn't I knew what it felt like to lose someone you loved. I took in a deep breath. "It's only been a year," I reasoned. "It's not like you can erase her from your life."

  A corner of his mouth tugged up for a moment then fell back into place. "I know. I just . . . I don't know how long it's going to take before I'm really ready to move on. If I'm ever ready."

  "But I'm not the first person you've seen since Sarah passed away, right? You mentioned something about a date or two back home."

  He nodded. "Yes, but that was different."

  "How?"

  "It was casual."

  "And this wasn't?" I wasn't sure if I was happy or disappointed at the idea that this could have really been something. Though at this point, I guess it didn't matter which.

  Aiden didn't answer, just sent that wan smile my way again. Part regret, part guilt. It should have pissed me off, but all it did was make me want to drag him upstairs and comfort him that much more.

  "So, this is it," I said, my chest tight. "The classic it's-not-you-it's-me."

  "You know it's not like that," Aiden said, his voice thick. "Look, I want this, Jamie. You have no idea how badly I want to come upstairs with you right now."

  For a moment, I totally believed him.

  "But it's selfish of me to go down that road with you when I don't know if I'll ever be able to really move on. If I'll ever be able to be with you without feeling guilty that I'm with you, then guilty for thinking about her." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

  "Me too." On instinct I reached out and took his hand. It was warm, his palm sweating. His fingers wrapped gratefully around mine. I didn't know what he was talking about, because from my end, his hand in mine felt totally right. I wanted to be with him, he wanted to be with me. But there was just one little dead woman in the middle of it all. It was hard to compete with that.

  We sat like that in silence for several seconds before I finally stood, taking my hand with me. "Well, I guess I'll see you around the courthouse then, counselor."

  Aiden stood too, his eyes heavy with all the regret and guilt he'd just confessed to. "Absolutely," he promised. He paused. "Jamie, this isn't goodbye, it's just-"

  "See you around," I finished for him before I could read any false hope into whatever he was about to say next. Then I turned and bolted up the stairs.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Danny paced in the lobby, running his hands through his hair. I sat in clear view of him from my desk. He'd just arrived, hadn't even said hi yet. The girls were applying their spy gear, which included cameras, microphones, and pouty lip gloss. Danny and Phillip were meeting for breakfast at the same cafe Aiden and I had shared the other day. I cringed at the thought, but refused to let myself wallow.

  I clicked off the report I was writing about this case thus far and gathered my purse. As much as I was dying to dig into Brumhill today, when Danny had called with the details of his "date," I'd had to put it on the back burner. A fact that made me both anxious and jumpy this morning. And the four cups of coffee I'd downed didn't help much.

  Between Derek's revelations and Aiden's surprise visit, I'd spent the evening torn between crying jags and cursing the stupidity of men in general. But one thing was certain. I was sick of it all. All of the games, all of the lies, and all of the nice-guy fronts hiding misdeeds. Whoever had shot Derek better watch their back because I was one blonde who was short on sleep, short on nerves, and short on patience for the less-fair sex today.

  Danny stopped pacing when he saw me walk into the lobby and grabbed my wrist, tugging me close. "Maybe we should call this off."

  "We've been through this. You can do it," I told him. I so did not need him backing out on me today. "Just picture him as one of those redheads you're so fond of."

  He swatted my words with his hand. "That's not it."

  I sighed. "Then what?"

  "I'm talking about trying to ruin his marriage."

  It took me a full five seconds to rewire my thoughts. "Whoa, where did that come from?"

  He glanced at Maya, who was on the phone, not paying us any attention. "Phillip called me last night. We got to talking. He's a nice guy."

  "And?"

&nb
sp; "And nothing." He combed his fingers through his hair, making it stick out at the ends. "We talked about stuff."

  I narrowed my eyes. "What kind of stuff?"

  He shrugged. "You know, baseball, cars, current events."

  I lifted my brows. Where was he going with this? "Anything pertinent to the case?"

  "He mentioned he'd been sneaking out, keeping something from Craig, but when I pressed him why, he changed the subject."

  "Where did he call you from?"

  "He was home. Craig was working late, and Phillip was bored."

  "Bored? Come on, he didn't hit on you, talk dirty? Maybe a little phone sex?"

  He grimaced and reddened under his tan. "It's not like that. We've become friends."

  "Well, it sounds like your friend has already confessed that he's stepping out on his husband. So, I'd say we're not the ones ruining his marriage. He is."

  "He's a good guy. I just don't want to mess up his life."

  Danny was falling for him. Not in a romantic way, but Phillip still managed to ooze enough charm to win Danny's friendship. Damn, this could make it harder to get what we needed. "Look. One of the rules of PI work is to never get emotionally close to a mark or a client. It clouds judgment and makes the job so much harder."

  He nodded, but I didn't see my words register in his eyes.

  "You know, if Phillip's cheating then Craig deserves to know. And if Phillip's unhappy in the marriage, then he deserves to get out and find what makes him happy." And hopefully this morning that would be a six-foot-two photographer with pale blue-green eyes.

  "You're right."

  Of course I was. I patted him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. It'll all work out fine." But as Danny nodded again and turned away, I bit my lower lip. What if this lunch was a disaster? What if Danny couldn't get what we needed due to his new attachment? From now on, we needed to keep him behind the camera and leave the PI work to the licensed, trained professionals.

  As if on cue, the front doors opened and Charley walked in.

  Uh-oh.

  Maya rushed from around her desk as I approached. "What are you doing here, Mom? Is everything alright? Where's Ruth? Is Belle dead?"