Unbreakable Bond Page 5

  "I need to get out of here," I said, leading the way to the parking lot.

  "So the sex kitten voice was for the Ken doll," Danny said, following me.

  Sunlight blinded me, and I reached into my bag for my Gucci sunglasses, using the motion to ignore Danny's statement.

  "Obviously he knows you’re the prime suspect in his case."

  "You think, Sherlock?"

  "Well, clearly you can’t lead with your libido."

  I scoffed. "Is that what you think I’m doing? God, Danny, I'm not you. I want to find out what he knows. Find the fake Mrs. Waterston and nail her ass before someone nails mine, got it? I have no interest in romance, trust me."

  Danny sighed and used his fingers as a wide-toothed comb, making his hair stand on end. "I don’t like it."

  "You don’t have to. I have my big girl panties on. I can take care of myself."

  I expected him to make a crude comment about my undergarments. Instead he said, "Fine, but I’m going with you."

  I chuckled, hoping it sounded playful, even though it was laced with annoyance. "I said I could handle it."

  But he ignored me. "I’ll wire you and wait outside. But you’re not going alone. Aside from wanting you behind bars, he’s a creep, probably sleeps with every woman he meets."

  Well if that wasn’t the horndog calling the flirt a himbo.

  But, considering I wasn't 100% sure he wasn't right, I relented. "Fine. Wire me."

  And since Danny hadn’t drilled the ADA’s reputation into the concrete far enough, he added, "You can’t trust this guy."

  No shit. But it was the best lead I had at the moment. I planned to slide up to ADA Prince and gently squeeze out the info I needed. By the time I was done, Prince would know a new definition of the word charming.

  * * *

  I still had hours before I needed to get ready and meet Prince, and the last thing I wanted to do was pace my apartment, possibly collide into Levine at the office again, or run the risk of being seen at the target range.

  With all of my regular hangouts off limits, I chose the only other place that held sentiment.

  The grass crunched beneath my pumps. Too many days without rain and temps over ninety left it yellow and pea green in spots. Even without my jacket, I wanted to melt into the ground. I’d left it in the car, along with my gun, because she didn’t approve of weapons.

  At least that’s what Derek had told me years ago.

  She used to frown and complain when he'd come home wearing his. Mom lived an honest life, filled with peace and kind words. When she disciplined me, she never raised her voice, even while grounding me for what felt like life. She and Derek couldn't have been more different.

  I turned off the narrow dirt path and walked up two rows to the back corner of the cemetery. Propped against her headstone sat a bouquet of wild flowers. Her favorites. Their vibrant purple, yellow, and pink petals were still smooth and fresh. Someone delivered them recently.

  I smiled at the idea of an old friend paying his or her respects, of someone visiting so she wasn’t lonely. Perhaps that was a silly notion, but I needed to believe she was still listening when I shared my life, still laughing at my goofs, still frowning at my mistakes.

  I placed a smaller bouquet of the same blooms beside the first set and sat down. Leaning against her tombstone, I shut my eyes and pressed out the world, traveling back to a time before Bond Agency, before DeLine Models, and before the car accident.

  "Do you remember that Christmas we spent in New York because we wanted to see the city and experience snow? I was so young. We went ice skating at Rockefeller Center, and you kept falling."

  She’d worn a yellow scarf, and every time she went down, the frayed ends blew up and landed on top of her head. It reminded me of Big Bird and made me giggle.

  "At the hotel that night, you lied in bed, your legs smothered in towels of ice. Then the next day, despite the aches and bruises, we went back and you managed to not fall…as much."

  I chuckled at the memory. "You taught me how to keep going, Mom. Thank you."

  Years later, I wondered if she’d fallen on purpose, just to hear me laugh. She was like that.

  After a few moments of silence, I opened my eyes and filled her in on the latest. I hesitated at the part where my face was plastered on the local news, but she’d want to know every detail, so I reluctantly told.

  The greatest thing about Mom was she never judged me. When I wanted to pierce my septum in fifth grade, because a hot drummer in a punk band did the same, she said, "You’d look great with a loop. Just take care of it and you won’t develop any infections. They’re easy to heal with medication though. It’ll only be swollen and filled with puss for a few days."

  Needless to say, my septum remained un-pierced to this day.

  "Danny's wrong," I told her. "A lawyer's not going to help me. I mean, I can’t just turn myself in. That’s crazy. Right?"

  A breeze stirred the ends of my hair. The aroma of jasmine floated with it.

  Mom’s signature scent.

  The left side of my brain reasoned it belonged to nearby flowers, but the daughter in me felt her presence.

  "I knew you’d agree."

  My purse began to ring out an unfamiliar tone. I dug inside and came out with the prepaid cell, checking the readout.

  Prince.

  My pulse raced, feeling like life had suddenly intruded on my sanctuary.

  I glanced to Mom as if looking for her input, then answered. "Hello?"

  "Jamie? It’s Aiden."

  "Hi," I said slowly. "I wasn’t sure if you’d call back."

  "Why’s that?" His voice was steady and business-like. Some small part of me was almost impressed with his game of chicken. It was the same tone he'd used only hours ago when he'd thought I was just a hot blonde and not a murder suspect. There was no hint of deceit in it whatsoever. He was good; I'd give him that.

  A fact that made the pit of anxiety grow to epic proportions in my stomach.

  "Just figured you may be too busy," I answered, trying to match his casual sound.

  "I’d never cancel on a beautiful woman. So is nine still okay?"

  "Great." The word came out rushed and way too eager.

  "Good. How about we meet at Franco’s? Are you familiar?"

  A rustic Italian restaurant off Melrose. I’d never been inside, but I heard the Roasted Vegetable Lasagna was to die for.

  "Yes, I can’t wait."

  "Me too. See you tonight."

  The line went dead. I sat there staring at the phone, wondering if he’d actually show up or have a police cruiser waiting to escort me to the local precinct.

  But my gut said to take the chance. If there was any possibility of getting answers, it was through the ADA.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  _____

  I'd arrived at Franco’s fifteen minutes early. Enough time to scope out the place and find a prime position for observing without being noticed. At the moment, a large wooden column was doing the trick just nicely.

  Wood beams lined the ceiling, and pillars flanked the foyer. The dinning area had white linen tablecloths and dim lighting. Very atmospheric. The small bar held only a few seats, the bulk of the room taken up with romantic tables for two. Vaguely I wondered if Aiden had picked the venue before or after he realized I was his prime suspect.

  The bartender, a slim man with a wiry mustache, looked up frequently while mixing drinks. It had to be the strapless, red mini dress that accentuated my legs and cleavage. Of course, it could’ve been the way I hid, pressed to the column like a stripper.

  I refused to believe it could be because he'd seen the latest broadcast displaying my face as a person of interest in the judge’s murder. I mean, who paid attention to those new briefs anyway? My firm grip on denial allowed my heart to continue beating at a moderately normal level.

  "Jamie, he just pulled up." Danny’s voice registered clearly in my earpiece.

  Attached to the bodice
of my dress was a diamond brooch with a hidden camera disguised inside. Not what I’d normally wear on a date, but tonight was all business.

  "Copy that," I spoke into my chest, with a sigh of relief that he'd shown up himself.

  And not sent a gang of black and whites.

  The bartender frowned, probably wondering why the crazy, hot woman was talking to herself.

  I offered a killer, um, no, an innocent smile and turned back to watch the entrance.

  The door opened and Aiden strode in. He still wore the suit trousers he had on earlier, but the jacket and tie were removed, leaving the white button-down open just enough to catch a glimpse of his tanned chest.

  He glanced toward the bar, and my palms began to sweat like a thirteen-year-old on her first date.

  Jitteriness wasn’t usually a part of the routine. But nothing was usual about this encounter.

  The Maitre d’ showed him to a table in the far, front corner.

  From what I could tell there were no police cars out front, no flashing lights or sirens. He hadn’t walked in with any officers, and he was reading the menu.

  I turned my back to the bar and asked Danny, "How’s it look out there?"

  "All clear."

  A hand clamped down on my shoulder, and I flinched. I spun around to find the Maitre d’—a stout man with white hair and skin as smooth as a helium-filled balloon.

  "Madame, may I help you?" he asked, clearly not used to women hiding out in his restaurant.

  So much for being incognito.

  "I’m fine," I whispered. "I was set up on a blind date, and I wanted to scope him out first. You know."

  But from the sudden creases along his forehead, he didn’t. "Shall I show you to a table so you can wait for the gentleman?"

  Danny chuckled in my ear. "Smooth, Jamie."

  An older couple walked inside and stopped at the host stand.

  Perfect timing.

  I used their presence as a shield and stepped forward. "No need. I see him now."

  The Maitre d’ shot me a look that said he'd be keeping an eye on me (join the club, pal), but thankfully left me to attend to the new couple.

  I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

  Aiden looked up as I approached. His brows raised, and a smile tugged at his mouth. He stood and pulled out my chair.

  "Play it cool," Danny whispered.

  Like there was any other way?

  "I’m so glad you called." Aiden widened his smile. The corners around his eyes creased. Under different circumstances, the expression would’ve been endearing. Right now, I wondered how he’d play his cards. I knew why I was here. Why was he?

  "I’m glad your busy schedule allowed."

  Danny scoffed.

  As Aiden helped push in my chair, he received a wide angle view of my cleavage. Luckily I'd tucked the mic far enough down to be out of sight. There was no sense in wearing something this revealing if I wasn’t going to flaunt it.

  He returned to his seat. "I hope this is acceptable. I figured in case you’re hungry. It’s been a long day, and I’m famished."

  He planned to feast on stuffed shells or Veal Piccata while interrogating me?

  "Your job must be so demanding."

  "There’s that sex kitten voice again," Danny muttered under his breath.

  I cleared my throat and watched Aiden from beneath my lashes.

  "It has its moments," he answered. "And what about you? What does Jamie Smith do?"

  Was he aware that he'd emphasized my fictitious last name? Was it on purpose? Was he trying to crack me, get a confession right here in the dim candlelight of our table for two?

  I parted my lips, tempted to falsify my life with tales of yacht sailing and actual Prince ogling, when the waiter arrived with a glass of Chardonnay for Aiden and a martini for me.

  "I hope you don’t mind I ordered just before you arrived," Aiden explained.

  "You remembered what I was drinking the other night." His attention to detail was, once again, annoyingly endearing.

  And a bad sign of the thoroughness with which he did his job.

  "Of course." He flashed a brilliant smile that probably made other women weak at the knees. Good thing I was seated.

  The waiter asked, "Are you ready to order?"

  "Give us a few, please." Aiden lifted his glass. He waited for the young man to walk off before saying, "Here’s to getting to know one another."

  I wrapped my hand around the stem of my glass, allowing the cone-shaped bowl to rest against the side of my palm. A slightly awkward grip, but it was better than leaving my prints on the glass.

  His gaze traveled to my glass, aware of my avoidance. Or maybe I was reading too much into his gaze.

  "So tell me about being a criminal attorney," I asked. "It must be immensely satisfying to lock away the bad guys."

  He chuckled warmly. I had to admit, it was kind of a nice sound. "Yes, very."

  "But it can’t be easy. The burden of proof lies with the ADA, right?"

  When he raised his brows, I added, "I watched a lot of Law & Order."

  "Hollywood is fiction."

  "True. So clue me in on the way it actually works." I sipped my drink. The vodka hit my belly and spread throughout my limbs. Now this was a drink.

  He leaned back in his chair, never looking away. His posture conveyed confidence. His slicked-back hair conveyed confidence. His smirk conveyed confidence.

  God, I wish I had some of that right now.

  "What do you want to know?" he asked.

  I gently set down the glass and eased into a similar position. "What about the case you mentioned? That judge."

  "The one from the Hilton, where we met."

  I kept my expression steady as we stared one another down, as if whoever blinked first would qualify as the loser. Luckily this was my favorite sport as a child. I’d never met a person I couldn’t outstare, especially boys.

  "Judge Waterston’s killer shouldn’t be too difficult to apprehend," he said slowly, blinking first.

  "Oh, why’s that? Did he leave behind a big clue?"

  "You can say that."

  I almost laughed out loud. Did he think his cockiness was going to make me confess?

  "Be careful, James," Danny whispered into my ear.

  My friend knew me too well, knew I wanted to prove how very wrong the ADA’s assumptions were, but I continued with my stoic-slash-come-hither game face.

  "I'd love to hear about it," I goaded.

  "I'm sorry, I can't comment on an open investigation." He punctuated the statement with a wink, as if chalking up one point on his side of the scoreboard.

  Fine. I had all night to dance around the judge. And the more sips of his chardonnay he took in the meantime, the easier it would be for me to lead.

  "So, what brought you to the benefit the other night?" I asked, smiling sweetly his way.

  "It's a cause I believe in strongly."

  "Oh?"

  He nodded, and for a half a second the confidence in his eyes gave way to something else. "Yes. Someone close to me died of breast cancer last year."

  Oh hell. Had the benefit been a cancer awareness thing? I'd honestly never even paid attention.

  "I’m sorry," I said, meaning it as I remembered what Maya had told me about his wife. Bringing up a personal death was a dirty trick. One I almost wanted him to know I hadn't played on purpose.

  He looked down into his glass, swirling the few remaining inches in a circle to avoid looking at me. "It’s fine. You didn’t know."

  I cringed.

  "It's always hard to lose someone," I said. Which sounded like a hollow Hallmark sentiment even to my ears.

  "It was my wife," he said, still not looking up.

  Why he was telling me, I didn't know. Maybe some irrational need to open up. Maybe a ploy to get me to open up to him?

  I feigned surprise and laid a hand on my chest, careful to avoid the camera. "That’s horrible."

  "I
t was, but we move on," he said, pasting a smile on his face that said he was doing just that with this conversation. "What about you? Have you ever been married?"

  "God, no."

  "And I’ll assume, since we’re sitting here, that you’re not involved?"

  "I’m single," I assured him.

  "Good to know."

  "I bet," Danny whispered.

  "What do you do for fun, Jamie? How do you spend your nights?"

  Was this his round-about way of asking for my alibi when the judge was murdered?

  "I’m a people watcher," I replied honestly.

  Danny snorted in my ear.

  "I hang out with friends, have a few drinks, get a bite. The usual," I clarified.

  "Do you have family in the area?"

  I filed the thought of Derek into a locked safe and forgot the combination. "We’re not close."

  "What did you do after the benefit?"

  Ah, direct. I glanced to my martini, wishing to down it in one gulp. I refrained however. "I went home. Straight to bed."

  He smirked. "Let me guess. Red silk sheets?"

  Danny continued his pig sounds.

  I laughed, not expecting the question. "Six-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton."

  "Nothing less than the best."

  "Well, I have my eye on a set of fifteen-hundred count, but a girl’s gotta eat. Is this where I ask, boxers or briefs?"

  He chuckled in response. "Only if I get to ask the same."

  Then he winked, and I couldn't help picturing his toned, tanned body above a pair of Calvin Kleins. It wasn't an unpleasant image.

  "So, were you alone?" His smile was playful, but I was an expert at reading between the lines. Do you have an alibi?

  "Oh, Aiden, a girl has to have some secrets." My turn to give the seductive wink. Score one for Jamie's side.

  "Hmm." he said, sitting back in his chair.

  But before he could pursue that thought, the server arrived to take our order. Aiden went with an appetizer of calamari. Even though the last thing that had touched my lips was the pastrami sandwich with Danny, food was light years from my mind. But, considering I was quickly draining my martini, I ordered a plate of bruschetta anyway. As soon as the man walked away, I turned my attention back to my prey.