Unbreakable Bond (13 page)

"Are you kidding? This is the first time I get to spend time with my daughter, and she can’t escape or ignore her phone. Do you think I’d pass it up by running errands?" The mocking seriousness of his tone made the hairs on the back of neck prickle.

"I have more pressing issues than the Martins at the moment," I mumbled in response.

Derek stared at me a beat. Then nodded. "I know, James."

I ducked my head, really not ready to have this conversation without another cup of coffee. Which, by the way, I had to hand it to Miss Trix, was really good.

"She makes good coffee," I said, doing a lame attempt at subject change

Derek nodded again. "She does. Elaine's a good woman."

I held my breath and waited for the sexual innuendo, but it never arrived. Sitting up straight, I brought the mug to my lips and took a long sip.

"You really like her, don't you?"

"Nice try, kid. We were talking about you. And your legal troubles."

Damn. He was good. 

Just then footsteps sounded on the dock.

My heart leapt, and I froze. I stared wide-eyed at Derek, who was on his feet and out the door in a flash. Voices sounded. I couldn’t make out any words, but one sounded higher. A woman?  I prayed that Elaine had forgotten something and that Aiden hadn't sent a female officer after me.

The footsteps grew closer. Two pairs? Three? I couldn't tell. Derek wouldn’t allow the cops to search his boat without a warrant, would he?

Suddenly a boy in long, baggy shorts and an Angry Birds T-shirt jumped into the room. A backpack draped over his right shoulder, he clutched a portable game system in his hand.

Julio.

"Hey, Aunt Jamie," he said, then plopped across from me.

Derek entered a beat later with Sam. "Look what I found up top," he said, gesturing to Sam. Or, more accurately, to her long legs, clearly visible beneath a denim mini skirt.

I shot Derek a warning look.

He gave back an innocent stare in response, then walked over to Julio, watching the child play some alien-sounding game.

Skin folds formed between Sam’s perfectly arched brows. "I hope you don’t mind. I have no other choices, and I want to make headway with the Peters case. Your dad said it was okay."

I cringed at the word "dad" and walked to her. I pulled her in for a quick hug, spotting the tension and worry in her clenched jaw. "It’s fine."

I glanced at the guys. Derek seemed enthralled in the game. Maybe Julio could keep him occupied all day.

I lowered my voice. "In fact, you probably just saved my ass."

*  *  *

After a morning of literally staring at paint dry (I’d found a bottle of red nail polish in the bathroom cabinet) and listening to the guys squeal as they fought whatever creature-slash-bad guy, I was ready to commit myself. Nothing seemed to pass the time quickly enough. I’d never been much for naps, and lying in the sun meant being exposed to whomever sailed by. Not conducive for hiding out.

I stepped into the galley and found Derek and Julio at the table. Playing cards were spread out between them—a King of hearts, eight and five of diamonds, and a four of spades. The old man was teaching him poker. A mound of yellow, pink, blue, purple, and green cereal nuggets sat to the side.

They stared one another down, as if ready to count six paces then draw their weapons.

Derek laid down his two cards. A King of clubs and four of hearts. "Two pairs, kid. Beat that."

Julio pulled his bottom lip in with his teeth then put down a seven and six of clubs. A wicked smile broke out across his face. "If you insist."

A straight.

I chuckled so loud, I startled myself.

Derek face palmed and groaned into his hand.

Julio giggled, making hissing sounds with his tongue between his front teeth.

"Beginner’s luck," Derek said with a smirk. He gathered the cards. "Go get some sunshine. In a bit, I’ll teach you Blackjack."

Julio scrambled to his feet, snatched his PSP and ran out.

"Stay away from the edge," I shouted then took his seat. "You think Sam will appreciate you turning her son into a gambler?"

"Ah, he’ll have a snazzier 'how I spent my summer vacation' report."

"Yeah, playing poker on a yacht with an old man and a murder suspect. That should go over well with the school district."

I stared out the window, tapping my phone's stylus onto the Formica tabletop. "You’re good with him."

Derek grinned. "What can I say? We're on the same wavelength."

A laugh blasted from my throat. "Good point."

"He's a good kid," Derek said, shuffling the deck of cards. "Could use a dad around more, but Sam's doin' okay with him."

"I'm glad you approve," I said, not able to keep the mocking tone from my voice.

And it didn't escape Derek either. He glanced up. "What? You questioning my parenting skills, James?"

I held up my hands. "Who me? Never."

"Hey, we had some good times when you were growin' up," said, dealing us each a hand. "Remember that time I took you to San Diego?"

"On a stake-out," I reminded him.

"And we went to Sea World."

"Following a mark."

"And you got to feed the dolphins."

"While you took pictures of the mark with his girlfriend and her two kids."

Derek grinned at me. "Good times, right?"

I shook my head. While he'd never win father of the year, it was almost as hard to hate Derek as it was to love him.

"You got a phenomenal memory, by the way, James," Derek said, picking up his cards and studying them. "I forgot how many kids she had."

I picked up my cards. I had nothing. "A boy and a girl, both had brown hair, freckles, and the boy was two years older. The girl got a stuffed octopus, and the boy got a toy pirate sword."

Derek glanced at me over the rim of his cards. "See, you're a natural born investigator, James."

Whether it was nature or nurture (or lack thereof), I wasn't sure. But I took the compliment all the same.

"Have you heard from any of your girls?" Derek asked, his eyes going to my right hand. I looked down and realized I was still tapping at the table top.

I forced my hand to be still. "No."

Maya was checking into Club Dante's Shooting Stars trade today, gathering all the info she could on who was using, who was dealing, and where they got their supplies. Sam and Caleigh were, as Sam had stated, working Peters again. They'd protested when I'd said it was business as usual as far as our clients were concerned, but honestly, there wasn't anything else for them to pursue. We were hanging on by a thread as far as leads went, and Club Dante was about it.

And Danny was silent. Not that I expected much from him after I'd told him to take a hike, but part of me kind of wished he'd at least call and make sure Aiden hadn't nabbed me last night.

I loathed to admit Danny had total I-told-you-so-rights. Aiden had played me big time. The easy smile, the warm eyes - I'd bought it all. Even enjoyed it a little, if I was being brutally honest. And all along it had been just to gain info before he threw me in jail. Interrogation 101 - tell your mark what they want to hear, and they'll tell you everything. It had been a long time since I'd let a guy take advantage of me, and I wasn't proud of it. One reason I wasn't entirely unhappy I hadn't heard from Danny today.

Derek placed his cards on the table, face down, apparently folding, and stood. "I better get up there and keep an eye on him. I'm not the strong swimmer I once was."

I nodded, honestly a little touched at his paternal-ness.

But he hesitated in the door, his eyes frowning, mouth working through a few different thoughts before settling on one.

"It's gonna be okay, kid," he finally settled on. "You're tough. You'll get through this."

It was the closest he would ever come to warm and fuzzy. I felt tears back up in my throat, but quickly shoved them down.

"Thanks, Dad."

*  *  *

After several more butt-numbing hours of card games (I totally won a round of Go Fish.) and listening to the alien sounds from the PSP, I was going insane. I was honestly tempted to raid Derek's liquor cabinet, but instead opted for a box of mac-n-cheese, splitting it with Julio. As I placed a bowl in front of him, his eyes lit up, he shoved a spoonful into his mouth, and the video game was blissfully silent for the first time all day. God bless Kraft.

We were halfway through our bowls of decadent, gooey cheesiness (which, honestly, was making me feel better) when footsteps sounded above us. Two pairs, but I didn’t panic this time. They were obviously high heels, and the last time I checked, police officers didn’t wear stilettos.

Sam and Caleigh stepped into the gallery.

Julio ran to his mother, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Derek taught me how to play poker, and I won."

She looked to me, brows raised. "Well isn’t that sweet of him."

I shrugged. Hey, what do you expect when you chose Derek Bond as your babysitter?

Caleigh snickered and walked over. A black dress was draped over her arm, and a tote bag dangled from her hand.

"How’d it go with Peters today?" I asked.

"Julio, go finish your food," Sam said, automatically. Julio frowned, clearly getting the kids-out-of-the-room signal.

I stood and huddled with them near the sink.

Caleigh's eyes sparkled, and a small smile etched onto her face. "He’s not cheating on his wife."

"You’re sure?" I asked, hearing my voice drop with disappointment before I could catch it. No cheating equaled no big payday.

They nodded in unison.

"He spent the whole day running errands, playing golf—just all over town." Caleigh rolled her eyes as if thinking about it exhausted her. "And none of it involved a woman."

"But…" Sam teased. She glanced at Julio before whispering, "At one point we lost him, and when we drove past his house we saw Mrs. Peters driving off with another man."

I raised an eyebrow. "Oh reeeally?"

"So I stayed with her while Sam located the husband," Caleigh said, taking turns ping-ponging the information at me.

"Mr. Peters met some guy at Dugan’s Tavern for a drink. They laughed, ate way too many peanuts and watched sports," Sam said.

"While Mrs. Peters met some guy at Motel Six, where they played sports for two hours. I don’t think peanuts were involved." Caleigh winked.

Part of me was elated to find a husband who believed in his vows. The wife, however, left a bitter taste in my mouth. Why couldn’t people simply keep it in their pants until they had  nice, civilized divorce papers signed?

"You think she was a kettle calling a pot black?" Sam asked.

I shrugged, trying to remember my first meeting with Mrs. Peters. "More like hoping, I'd guess. She mentioned a prenup. Maybe she wanted to catch him before he caught her."

"We left the video at the office," said Sam. she paused. "The cops finally cleared it."

I nodded, ignoring the reference to my fugitive status. "Perfect. I'll call Mr. Peters on Monday."

"
Mr.
Peters?" Caleigh asked. "I thought our client was the wife."

"She was. But chances are Mr. Peters will pay more than she will to have evidence of his wife's infidelity."

Sam grinned. "You are evil, Jamie."

What I was was broke. But I let the comment go.

"We set for tonight?" I asked.

Caleigh nodded, then handed me a stack of papers. "Maya's research on Shooting Stars."

I glanced down. It was thorough, I'd give her that. "You're ready to run point?" I asked Caleigh.

She nodded.

"What do you want me to do?" Sam asked.

"Go home."

She opened her mouth to protest, a frown forming between her brows again, but I ran over her.

"Julio's had enough of Derek today. Unless you want him turning into a card shark before fifth grade, take him home."

She bit her lower lip. "I could possibly ask my neighbor to watch him again," she offered.

I shook my head. "No, spend time with your son. Caleigh and I got this."

"Yes we do." Caleigh held up the dress. "You’ll be wearing this and…."

I grabbed the slinky, low cut garment while she opened the tote.

"These."

She held up a pair of strappy stilettos and an auburn wig.

I always wondered what I’d look like as a redhead.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

_____

Club Dante fit perfectly into the typical L.A. scene: loud music, young bodies, and quickly poured liquor. A triple score. The bigger the thirst, the more they drank, the drunker they became, and the more they talked. My kind of place.

The left wall consisted of the bar, a long lit strip of metal and acrylic. The club’s name hung behind it in neon blue and white lights. Three bartenders in fitted blue tees and black pants served the patrons.

Caleigh pushed past a couple hot-glued to one another. The guy’s tongue was jammed so far down the petite girl’s throat, I thought I saw her eyes roll to the back of her head.

"Sorry," Caleigh yelled after elbowing him in the ribs.

Neither of them flinched or even registered it.

I followed my girl but stayed a few steps behind, observing tonight’s crowd. The dance floor throbbed with glistening flesh, in beat to the music and pulsating lights. Wild and carefree, women and men threw up their arms, whipped their hair and gyrated in tempo. It was like watching an African tribal dance, mesmerizing and wicked.

Caleigh pressed against the bar, sending a flirtatious look toward the bartender.

Over six-feet tall, broad shoulders, and hair so blonde it appeared white, he took the time to stop pouring and give her his full attention, despite the line of empty glasses. He could’ve been on the cover of Sweden’s
Sports Illustrated
.

Caleigh batted her thick, false lashes. Her pink tongue darted out, licking cherry lip gloss. And then for the kill, she gave a slow, super flirty smile that made men weak in the zipper.