Lovin' Blue (27 page)

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Authors: Zuri Day

BOOK: Lovin' Blue
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59
Eden thought she'd never laugh again, but here she was, with Alex, feeling true joy. The best thing she could have done for herself the last week was accept his invitation to Malibu. The atmosphere had been just the balm she'd needed. His elegantly appointed house sat about thirty feet from the ocean's edge. A large deck had provided the perfect place to watch the sunset, outfitted with a full outdoor kitchen, comfy deck furniture, and an oversize hot tub. It was from there that the chef had prepared a delectable meal of grilled vegetables, mushroom risotto, and a rice-based croquette that resembled crab cake. This delicious fare had been accompanied by a limited-edition Greek white wine from one of Alex's longtime family friends who owned one of the country's largest vineyards. Christina had called to cancel, citing a last-minute emergency. At first, Eden had thought it planned, but after speaking with Christina personally, knew otherwise. Alex had been a perfect gentleman, and when she'd said that friendship was all she could offer him, he'd said it was enough. He'd taken her out on the boat to the middle of the ocean, where they'd enjoyed a glorious sunset. Alex's world was so vibrant and interesting she'd actually had moments where Jansen wasn't on her mind. They were rare, but they'd happened. And for that she was grateful.
“I said you'd love it,” Alex said, referring to the comedy benefit they were now attending in Palm Springs.
“You were right. This is just what I needed, Alex. I really appreciate your inviting me.”
He hugged her good-naturedly—placed a kiss on her cheek. “You're welcome.” Alex was ecstatic to be sitting there with Eden. He was sure that whatever had happened last week had involved the big, bad cop. He'd probed once, gently, and been promptly shut down. Eden had said the topic of Jansen was strictly off-limits. Alex hadn't asked again.
Slow and steady wins the race,
he thought as the next comedian took the stage
,
and he lightly rubbed Eden's shoulder.
Jansen's bad mood was perpetual, and Alberto worried. He'd never seen his partner this down or this quiet. He watched Jansen walk to the vehicle and could have sworn the brother had lost weight. The reason for his concern wasn't totally selfless—a partner whose mind was elsewhere could get them both in a world of trouble.
“Good news?” Alberto asked when Jansen got into the car.
Jansen snorted. Alberto backed the car out of the station parking lot and headed toward La Brea. “They got Terrell Ford again,” Jansen said.
“Oh, yeah? That fool never learns.”
“Boys like him never do. He's looking at time now though.” When Alberto threw him a questioning look, Jansen continued. “He used a weapon this time—first-degree burglary, felonious assault, drug possession.”
Alberto shook his head. “You think he's part of the gang robbing in Baldwin Hills?”
“We'll soon find out. Some dudes will sing like canaries when they're looking at twenty-to-life.”
“He's not going to get that much.”
“He might. They're going to sentence him not only for these crimes but for the others he did and didn't get caught.”
They continued in silence. Jansen grimaced and rubbed his eyes, remembering yesterday's conversation with Dakkar.
“Have you seen her?” Jansen asked, his face turned to the side as Dakkar kneaded the knots from everywhere.
“Look, man, I don't want to get into it.”
“I'm not asking you to—I'm just asking have you seen her? Is she at work?”
“Yes, she was gone only the one day and came back on Monday.”
“I bet she's hanging out with that punk-ass Alex. He couldn't wait for a chance to make his move. Am I right?”
Dakkar sighed, kneaded.
Jansen sat up abruptly. “Look, man. How long have I known you?”
Dakkar looked Jansen in the eye. “A long time.”
“Then help a brothah out. Tell me what you know.”
Dakkar turned to the jar that contained a mixture of shea butter, aloe, and herbs. He briskly rubbed his hands together. “I know they work together, brothah, that's all.”
“She's in his office?”
Dakkar nodded.
“And he's in hers?”
Again, Dakkar nodded. “But that doesn't necessarily mean anything, man. Now come on, lie down and relax. You're going to tighten up the area I just smoothed out, and your rate is going to double for the extra work I'm doing.”
“I just need to talk to her, dog,” Jansen said after lying down. “That's it, just talk. She won't take my calls, and I'm better off not coming to the job. I'd take one look at that Greek asshole, and somebody would get hurt. I just want to talk to her, see her. . . .” Jansen whispered before falling asleep.
“Damn, man, where you at?”
“I'm sorry, Al, did you say something?”
“Only for the past five minutes.” They arrived at the place of their latest investigation, a warehouse that had been relieved of over a quarter million dollars' worth of machinery. “Look, Jansen, she's gonna come back. Women be trippin', dog, it's what they do! My old lady trips on the regular—even when she ain't pregnant, I can find myself on the couch for no reason. Just give her space and let it pass.”
“It's not that easy, especially when she won't even hear my side of the story. That shit's messed up.”
“You still haven't told her?”
“Didn't you hear what I just said?”
Alberto tapped the steering wheel. He'd never been good at the emotional, heart-tug kind of situations. Most of the time he diffused such moments with humor. Now was one of those times. “Hell, if she won't take your calls, send her ass a letter. Do an Oleta Adams on her ass and go trailway-railway—planes, trains, and automobiles.”
Alberto succeeded in getting Jansen to smile. “I think you've mixed Oleta with a little Billy Crystal.”
“Whatever gets you out of the
P
funk. Come on, brothah. Duty calls.”
60
Eden walked into her place, exhausted. Yet she was glad she'd insisted that Sullivan, the driver, bring her home. Alex had wanted her to stay in Palm Springs. After declining her own room in the four-bedroom penthouse suite, he'd offered her her own, smaller suite on another floor. But Eden didn't want to send any mixed signals or raise expectations—even though she hadn't failed to notice how much she and Alex had in common, and how potentially easy it would be to blend their lives. Yet while her body had been with Alex, Jansen had never been far from her mind. It had been only a week but felt like years since she'd seen, smelled, touched his addictive body. He'd weighed on her heavily all the way home. She'd almost called him.
Maybe on Sunday. . . .
She entered her home and immediately prepared for bed. Planning on sleeping in the next day, Saturday, she decided to quickly check her e-mails and see if Renee had responded to her e-mail. They hadn't talked since the night she'd learned of Jansen's involvement in Steven's death. The silence had been awkward. Even though she knew they'd probably neared the end of their friendship, such as it was, Eden had written to try to clear the air, assure her there were no hard feelings.
She skimmed her inbox and read a message from Chandra announcing a trip to LA.
It will be good to see her,
Eden thought even though they'd talked only one other time after the first reconnection. She hadn't seen Chandra since high school.
I'm glad I didn't tell her about me and . . .
Jansen!
Eden's eyes widened when she saw an e-mail from
Blue Knight.
His face came to her immediately as the only one who could sport that moniker. She hesitated only seconds before clicking on the link. With the first sentence, her heartbeat quickened.
Eden: There were children involved. Steven Newton fired into a playground crowded with kids. If we hadn't taken him out, some of them would have died. That's what happened. And while it wasn't an easy choice, and something I'll live with for the rest of my life, if given the same set of circumstances, I'd do it again. That's the short version. If you want to talk, call me. J.
Eden read the brief e-mail over and again. She tried to understand what hadn't been written—how Jansen was doing, how he felt about her now. It hadn't escaped her notice that there were no terms of endearment, no declarations of love. She wasn't “little garden,” or “weed,” but Eden. “Well, what did you expect?” she asked out loud. “You're the one who left without looking back.” She read the horrid details yet again.
Could this be true? Could Renee's brother have instigated the event that brought on his demise?
The thought to call and ask her was quickly dispelled. How could she justify talking about it with Renee again until she'd at least talked once to Jansen?
Eden looked at the clock. It was almost two AM. She turned off the computer, deciding to follow her initial plan and call him on Sunday.
No, I'll go see him. That's it. I'll go to Gardena on his day off.
61
“Sorry to wake you,” Alex said upon hearing the sleepiness in Eden's voice.
“Alex? Do you know what day it is?”
Alex laughed. “Saturday, I know. And you know I wouldn't call unless it was an emergency. But I just got a call from a friend of mine, a member of the French parliament, with major connections here to people with deep pockets, people who are interested in the holistic lifestyle and will donate to our cause. He's going to be here for only one day. Can you meet us at the center? We'll do a walk-through and then take him to brunch.”
“This sounds fabulous, Alex, but why do I have to be there?”
“Because he appreciates beauty,” Alex said without apology. “Once he meets you, the money is as good as in the bank.”
An hour and a half later, Eden strolled into the Zen Den. She didn't come in most Saturdays and forgot how bustling it was—by far their busiest day. She was surprised not to see Ariel and then remembered that today was Travis's birthday. Eden smiled.
I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't show up on Monday, due to matters of the heart.
Eden met up with Alex and his dignitary, and after an extensive tour of the grounds, stood near the lobby while their guest used the facilities.
“I owe you big time,” Alex said, beaming. “Francois was extremely impressed with you. But don't worry, I told him you were unavailable.”
“Thank you.”
“Hey, what are you doing tonight?”
“No plans, why?”
“There's supposed to be a huge meteor shower tonight, clearly visible here on the west coast. I was told of a place just outside the city where we could see it clearly.”
“Alex . . .”
“My intentions are entirely honorable,” Alex continued. “Have you ever witnessed such a shower?”
“Can't say that I have.”
“They are pure magic.”
Eden thought for a moment. “Now that you mention it, I did see that e-mail. Didn't read it though, but Ariel had mentioned it as well.”
“Then you'll come? Tonight? Around ten o'clock?”
When Eden nodded, Alex gave her the details. The dignitary walked up just as he finished. “All set?” Alex asked, looking from the Frenchman to Eden. “Let's go.”
Dakkar closed his eyes, and let out the breath he'd been holding. Like many in the center, he believed that nothing happened by coincidence, and there was a reason he'd been standing where he was—just inside the large storage room. Which was how he was able to overhear the entire conversation that had taken place between Alex and Eden. He reached for his phone without thinking twice. “Jansen, Dakkar. I've got news.”
The day passed quickly, and by the time nine o'clock rolled around, Eden was actually excited to witness the shower with Alex. After brunch with him and Francois, she'd come home and Googled
meteor showers
. If what happened was anything like what had been described, they were in for a treat. She'd dressed casually in a brushed cotton warm-up and tennis shoes. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and except for mascara and gloss, she was makeup free. She reached for her nuts, water, and jacket, made sure she had her cell phone, and headed out the door.
Jansen hit speed dial on his cell phone and dialed the station. “Sheila, Jansen. Did you get the information I asked for?”
“Is coffee black?” she asked with just the right amount of sexy in her voice. This attractive, plus-sized veteran had been after Jansen since he'd arrived. But it was harmless flirting. Sheila was married with children and no plans to leave her husband any time soon. “Who is this doctor, and why is he so important to you?”
“Never mind that, just give me the info.”
Sheila sighed. “I do you a favor, and this is the thanks I get? You'd better be glad you're a handsome hunk, or you'd get
nada
. Do you have a pen?”
Alex cursed the faulty GPS that had directed he exit onto Hawthorne from the 405. After turning right, he realized how far he was from his destination and knew he could have continued farther down the freeway. He was already behind, having run into the bumper-to-bumper traffic typical of a Saturday night in metropolitan LA. In hindsight, he should have used his driver. But he'd wanted to flow independently tonight and for the night to be with him and Eden alone.
“Come on!” he yelled to a slow-moving driver. He downshifted, pressed the gas on his Mercedes, and sped around them. Once he passed them, he didn't decrease his speed. The lights were in his favor, and he flew through green after green. On his fourth attempt he made it but saw a flash of bright white light behind him. He'd heard about the cameras installed at certain intersections, and how ridiculous were the fines. Alex smiled and kept on moving. There was no price too high when it came to Eden Anderson. She didn't know it yet, but in her Alex felt he'd met the woman of his dreams.
“Damnit!” Alex looked in the rearview mirror to be sure he wasn't mistaken. He wasn't. He'd seen the bright lights from the camera but hadn't seen the police. Now bright red lights, accompanied by a short siren, told him that once again he'd be delayed.
Jansen couldn't believe his luck. Or his timing. The jet-black luxury auto pulled to the side. But Hawthorne was busy. Over the outside intercom, he directed the driver to turn onto a side street. The driver complied. Jansen smiled. As soon as they'd turned and gone down a short distance, the Mercedes pulled over once again.
Alex jumped out of his car. “What's going on?”
“Get back into the vehicle,” Jansen commanded in a tone that brooked no argument. Alex stopped short, turned on his heel, and stomped back to the car. Jansen waited until Alex had gotten back in his car. He pulled out his weapon, checked the bullets and safety, and then got out of the car.
He strolled up to the driver's-side window, which Alex had already opened.
“Here's what you need—license, registration, and insurance, right?” Alex handed the items out the window. He just wanted the jerk cop to write up the ticket so he could be on his way. When the officer didn't take the paperwork, Alex looked out the window. It was just before dark, yet the officer wore sunglasses. He couldn't make out his face, but something about him . . .
“Step out of the vehicle.”
Now he knew. It was the same voice that had ordered an arm away from around a certain woman. Alex's blood boiled, but he figured now was not the time for confrontation. He had been speeding, Jansen was a cop, and he didn't want to go to jail. “Look, buddy, you tell me to get in, and now you're telling me to get back out. Just write the ticket.”
Jansen leaned down to Alex's eye level. “Look, doc. We can do this easy, or we can do this hard. Now step out of the vehicle.” Alex begrudgingly complied. “Now get into the backseat.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I'll do no such thing!”
“Would you prefer the trunk?” Alex's green eyes turned almost black with indignation. Jansen smiled. “Look around you, doctor. This street is pretty isolated. It's Saturday night. People are out living it up.” The smile disappeared. “Now, into the backseat. I won't tell you again.”
Alex rose up to his full six feet. “You don't scare me, asshole. You'll pay for this.”
“Yeah, well, not tonight.” Once Alex was in the backseat, Jansen chained his legs and cuffed him to the door handle.
“What the hell are you doing? Do you have any idea how much trouble you're making for yourself? Do you know who I am?”
“I know who you think you are.” Once Jansen had taken his cell phone and checked the car for anything that could help Alex escape, he straightened. “Just try to relax. I'll be back shortly.” With that, he was gone.
Eden enjoyed the sounds of the water hitting the shore. Alex was right. Here, away from the city lights, the stars seemed brighter, closer. She'd arrived earlier than she thought, almost half an hour before their scheduled nine PM meet-up. The place seemed a bit isolated, but Eden wasn't afraid. This was a city filled with homes for the upper middle class, most of those residences hugging the shoreline. She looked over at the other lone car.
Another star-gazing couple,
she noted, a blond-haired man in the driver's seat, his companion's hair long and dark.
Eden eased down her windows a bit more, reclined in her seat, and closed her eyes. She'd intended to take a nap after returning from her time with Alex, but between overdue phone chats with her mother, Bridgett, Michael, and Delphia, along with wading through the e-mails she'd avoided all week, there just hadn't been time.
I'll just rest my eyes for a minute.
And a minute was all the time she got. The next thing Eden knew, there was a knife to her throat.
Eden froze instinctively as she felt cold metal pressing against her skin. “What do you want?” she stammered. “I don't have any money on me.” She looked up and noticed that the man who held the knife to her throat was the one she'd eyed in the other lone car in the small parking lot moments before. The person she'd thought was a woman was actually a long-haired man who demanded she unlock the doors and even now rummaged through her purse, scattering her items in every direction.
“She ain't got shit!” the long-haired man shouted. “Let's get out of here, man.”
“Oh, no,” Blondie drawled. “She may not have money, but I think we might be able to negotiate another form of payment.” He slid the blade of the knife from her throat to her cheek, and across her lips. “You're a pretty thing, you know that?”
“Please,” Eden whispered, hardly recognizing her own voice. “You don't want to do this. I'm expecting my friend any minute. Your friend is right. You need to leave.”
Please hurry, Alex. Please!
Long-Hair was becoming more nervous. “Come on, man. I signed on to rob a few folk, put some change in my pocket. But not . . . what you're thinking. I'm not down with this.”
“Then move your ass!” Blondie shouted. “And if you breathe a word to anybody, I'll kill you.”
Eden and Long-Hair's eyes met. She guessed him to be no more than nineteen years old, the man holding the knife a few years older. It looked as if the kid wanted to help her but didn't know how. “I'm sorry, ma'am,” he said and took off.
“Well, now, little lady. It's just you and me. And I'm ready to party!”
Eden knew it might prove futile, but she tried reason. “You seem like a nice young man,” she began.
“Shut up!” Blondie shouted, opening the door. Eden had already guessed him to be around five-foot-nine or -ten. But his was a stocky build, lots of upper muscle strength. Still, she wouldn't go down without a fight. She leaned back and began kicking, belatedly remembering the pepper spray on the key chain, and wishing she'd taken Jansen up on his offer to teach her self-defense moves.
Blondie found her fighting humorous. He easily grabbed her legs, using the knife to rip the top of her warm-up open in one quick move. Steel found flesh, and Eden felt a sharp pain near her navel. “Ow!”
Blondie's grin was lecherous. “You'd better stop struggling unless you want that pretty brown body tattooed with stab wounds.” He grabbed Eden's arm and tried to pull her out of the car and into the backseat. Once her feet hit the pavement, however, she became a tigress—biting and hitting and screaming, all at once. And then she saw headlights turning into the parking lot.
Alex!
She tried to turn and run toward the car, but Blondie grabbed her and put the knife to her neck. “You make one move, and you die,” he growled, beginning to slowly turn toward the vehicle that had so inconveniently interrupted his rendezvous.
“Police! Freeze, you asshole.”
Jansen?
Blondie jerked around with Eden squarely in front of him. Jansen could see the glare of the headlights bouncing off the sharp metal at his garden's throat. He could take this guy out, no problem. Eden was several inches shorter than her captor. It would take one bullet, straight to the head. Jansen's finger tightened on the trigger; energy surged into his veins. He imagined tossing the gun to the side and taking this guy with his bare hands. Only years of military discipline kept him cool under pressure unlike he'd ever felt. But this situation was getting ready to end. And he was ending it now.
He pulled the trigger. Eden screamed. Blondie dropped to the ground. Eden ran into Jansen's arms. “Jansen, Jansen,” she sobbed, holding on to him for dear life.
“Shhh, it's all right, little garden,” he said, hugging her even as he eyed the wounded suspect. “Go sit in the car. I have to take care of this. Come on, baby, let go.”
Eden buried her head in Jansen's shirt. “I don't want to see.”
“You don't have to. It's only a shoulder wound, it'll heal. Now go get in the car. Don't turn around.”

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