Unbreakable Bond (22 page)

"Not so fast," I told him under my breath, grabbing him by the arm.

He paused, looking me in the eyes for the first time since I'd walked in the door. His were a deep, forest green today. Clouded and unreadable.

"I want to talk to you," I told him in a tone that broached no argument. 

And for once, he didn't give me one, nodding and following me into my office. I shut the door behind him, then leaned my butt against my desk, crossed my arms over my chest, and sipped my coffee.

Danny watched me, his expression guarded. "So what is this about?"

"I want the truth out of you."

He opened his mouth to speak, but I ran over him.

"The
whole
truth this time, Danny. None of that dancing around denial bullshit you did at your apartment."

Despite the awkward tension in the air, the corner of his mouth quirked upward at my candor. "Fair enough. What do you want to know?"

"How do you know Dakota?"

"We worked together on a few shoots."

"And you slept with her?"

He nodded slowly, as if unsure what the right answer to that was. "Once. But that was awhile ago, back when I first met her."

"Define awhile?"

"Do you really want to know details?" he asked.

No, I didn't. In fact, The image of Danny peeling cheap leopard print lingerie off of Dakota was the last thing I wanted burned into my brain. "What I really want to know," I said, shifting gears, "is that you knew she was Judge Waterston's niece all along."

Again with the slow nod. "I did."

"Christ, Danny, why didn't you tell me?" I asked, slamming my coffee down on the desk.

"I didn't want you to get hurt."

I gave him a get real look. "Seriously? So lying to me is your way of showing you care."

"Yes," he said, his eyes dead serious, his jaw tense, a frown of honest concern between his brows.

Which put a damper on my sarcasm. I crossed my arms again and waited for him to go on.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry I had to lie to you. But you were being reckless, and there was a killer out there with your name on her list. As soon as Maya found the Shooting Stars connection, I knew Dakota had to be mixed up in this somehow."

"Wish
I'd
known it then. Would have saved me a lot of trouble."

Danny shook his head. "No, you would have gone to your friendly A.D.A. or, worse yet, gone in guns blazing."

I didn't respond. Mostly because he was kinda right.

"Anyway," he went on, "I asked Dakota to meet me so I could find out what was going on. She did, we talked, and that's when you saw her leaving my place."

"What did she say?" I couldn't help my curiosity getting the better of me.

"About what you'd expect. At first she denied knowing anything about Shooting Stars. Which anyone who knows her knows full well is bullshit. So, when I pressed, she confessed that she was addicted. She said she was trying to quit."

"But not that her aunt had taken some of her supply to kill Donna?"

Danny shrugged. "Honestly, I'm not sure she noticed it was gone. The girl isn't the brightest bulb to begin with, and add being high half the time to that? Anything could slip past her."

"Boy, you sure know how to pick 'em."

He smiled. The first genuine one I'd seen in a long time. "Thanks, James."

I sighed, some of the tension having eased out of the room.

Some.

"Okay, maybe I can forgive you for that," I said. "But there is the little matter of your tip to the police about my meeting with Aiden in the park."

Danny chewed the inside of his cheek. "He told you about that, huh?"

"Danny! You tried to get me thrown in jail!"

"Which would have been the safest place for you," he countered. "I needed to make sure you were out of harm's way while I talked to Dakota and tried to find out who was framing you."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "They made me wear orange polyester, Danny."

"I'm sorry."

"And eat baked beans."

"Really sorry."

"And room with the female version of a tattooed linebacker."

Danny took a step forward, his eyes going serious again. "I mean it, Jamie. I'm sorry," he said. And I could tell he really did. "You gotta believe I hated keeping stuff from you. But if anything had happened to you-"

"Something did happen to me, Danny," I cut him off. "I was arrested, thrown in jail, escaped, went on the run, and was almost murdered. And look," I said, gesturing to myself. "I'm fine. Unharmed. I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself."

Danny smiled, let out a chuckle on a huff of air. "I know, I know. You're a tough guy."

"Damned straight."

"It's just-" He took another step forward. "-James, you're more than a friend to me. I think of you as a..."

He paused, searching for the right word.

A week ago, I would have thought he'd end that sentence with "little sister". But as his brain worked over the possibilities, I watched his gaze go dark and warm, forest green melting into a softer, sea green. His lips parted. Emotion backed up behind his eyes. This was not the look of a big brother. Or a best friend. This was something different. Deeper. More dangerous.    

I felt a warm sensation curling in my stomach, blood suddenly pumping in my eras as I waited for him to finish the thought.

"Yes?" I asked, realizing I was slightly breathless.

"Well, you're very important to me," he finally said, his voice thick and low.

I swallowed and locked eyes with him. A million things were swimming there, unspoken. Though, whether I was ready for him to speak them or not, I wasn't sure.   

Not that I had a say in the matter. Danny quickly broke the gaze, breaking the moment with it, and took a giant step back, clearing his throat.

"So... truce?" he asked, extending a hand my way.

I nodded. "Truce," I agreed, shaking his hand, even as I knew something had shifted between us that would never be quite the same again. And as his warm hand lingered just a moment too long on mine, I suddenly wasn't sure I minded.

"Good," Danny said. "'Cause it sounds like you're going to need a hell of a lot of back-up to handle the client flow coming in." He smiled, a lopsided thing that was pure boyish-charm Danny.

I returned it, grabbing my coffee and sinking into my imitation leather chair. Today, it was good to be me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

_____

The rest of the day was a blur of phones ringing, appointments being booked, and new clients filtering into the office, each wanting the "not guilty P.I." to take their cases. At the rate we were signing new clients, I knew I could forget having to fire anyone. In fact, I was going to have to hire
more
girls. Candy and Apple immediately sprang to mind, and I wondered just what the Spotted Pony paid them.

It wasn't until the sun was setting behind the silhouette of the U.S. Bank Tower in my office window that the phones finally started slowing, and I had a moment to catch my breath.

A short moment.

"Line two for you, boss," Maya's voice informed me over the intercom.

I cracked my neck, gearing up for another introductory call, and hit the speaker phone.

"This is Jamie Bond," I answered.

"Jamie," a familiar voice responded. "It's Aiden."

I took a deep breath.

While Aiden and I had spoken several times since I'd shot Veronica Waterston, it had been all business.  It was what neither of us had said that had been rolling over in my mind the last two nights. He'd let me escape from the courtroom. Why? What had that meant? And what did it mean now?

"Hi," I said lamely.

"I, ah, hope I'm not interrupting. Maya said you were very busy today-"

"No!" I said, cutting him off. In hindsight, maybe just a little too eagerly. "I mean, yes, we've had a busy day here, but I'm free now."

"Oh. Well, good." He paused. "How about at around nine? Will you still be free then?"

I bit my lip, staring at the speaker phone. "Why do you ask?"

"I just though maybe you'd like to grab a drink."

Honestly? I could totally use a drink. But with our cat-and-mouse game over, there was only one reason that he'd be asking.

"Are you asking me out?" I clarified.

I swear I could almost hear his grin through the phone. "Yes, Jamie. I most definitely am."

I couldn't help giggling at his complete candor for once.

Giggling? Oh, brother. I didn't giggle. This could be a really bad idea.  

"Well?" he prompted. "You know, you're gonna break my heart if you shoot me down again."

I took a deep breath. "Okay."  Hey, I hadn't had my celebratory lobster and martini dinner yet, and if the ADA wanted to pay for it, who was I to argue?

"Okay?" he asked, a lift to his voice that I had to admit was utterly adorable.

"On one condition," I added.

"Name it."

"Leave the handcuffs at home this time."

He laughed, his voice echoing off my office walls. "Deal." He paused, then his voice took on a wicked tone. "At least this time."

I felt another giggle bubbling up in my throat. Oh, yeah. This was
definitely
a bad idea. 

Luckily, before I could make a complete fool of myself, the door to my office opened and Derek stuck his head in.

"Uh, Aiden, I've got to go. Duty calls."

"No problem. I'll pick you up at nine?"

I nodded at the speaker phone. "I'll be here," I promised, then hung up.

"Who's picking you up?" Derek asked, plopping himself down in one of my client chairs.

"That would be Mr. None-of-Your-Business," I replied.

"Ouch. Come on, kid. I tell you all about my love life."

"Lucky me," I mumbled.

Derek grinned. "Okay, okay. Have your little secrets from the old man. I just came down to see how you're doing."

"Busy. Business is booming. The phone hasn't stopped ringing all day."

He nodded. "Good, but that's not what I meant. How are
you
doing?"

For the second time that day, emotion snuck up on me. I quickly cleared it from my throat. "I'm good. I'm fine."

Derek gave me a long look. Then, as if satisfied, nodded again. "Good. You're a tough kid, James."

"Well, I learned from the toughest."

Derek pointed at me and winked. "Damned straight."

The intercom on the phone buzzed. I leaned over and hit the button. "Yes?"

"Sorry for the interruption. It’s Sam. Maya’s busy on the other line, but there’s a call on hold for you. Another new client."

"Thanks." I turned back to Derek.

He stood, taking his cue. "Sam. That's the one with the legs, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "You know, we may have to hire more help. Maya's totally overwhelmed out there, and there's no way Sam, Caleigh and I can handle all the cases."

"Sure. Hire away," he responded. "I trust you can handle it."

I paused. "Seriously? No demands to be a part of the interview process? No need to check out the resumes or bodies?"

He tapped his temple. "Never mix pleasure with business. Too many complications."

"Since when has that ever stopped you from checking out my girls?"

He held up his hands and wiggled all ten fingers. "Look but don’t touch. It's the golden rule."

I couldn't help grinning. "So, this 'trust' thing. Does this mean you’ll stop checking up on my every case?"

He furrowed his brows. "Don’t get carried away. You still got a lot to learn from the old guy."

I pursed my lips and gave him a dirty look.

"But," he said. Then stepped around the desk and grabbed my shoulders, planting a quick peck on my forehead. "You’re one hell of a P.I., kid. You make the old guy proud."

I felt that emotion in my throat again, but this time I didn't mind it so much.

"Thanks, Dad."

He squeezed my shoulder, gave me a smile, then headed for the door.

"Hey, Derek?"

He stopped and turned around.

"They all have legs," I told him.

He chuckled and walked out, shutting my office door behind him.

I circled to my chair and grabbed a pen and pad of paper. Then picking up the phone receiver, I hit the button next to the green flashing light indicating my waiting call.

"Bond Agency. James Bond speaking."
* * * * *

About the Authors

Gemma Halliday is the
New York Times
and
USA Today
bestselling author of the
High Heels Mysteries
, the
Hollywood Headlines
Mysteries,
and the
Deadly Cool
series of young adult books, as well as several other works.  Gemma’s books have received numerous awards, including a Golden Heart, a National Reader’s Choice award and three RITA nominations.  She currently lives in the San Francisco Bay Area where she is hard at work on several new projects.

To learn more about Gemma, visit her online at
http://www.gemmahalliday.com

Connect with Gemma on Facebook at:

http://www.facebook.com/gemmahallidayauthor

Jennifer Fischetto writes dead bodies for ages thirteen to six-feet-under. When not writing, she enjoys reading, eating, signing, and watching way too much TV. She also adores trees, thunderstorms, and horror movies. She lives in Western Massachusetts with her two awesome children, who love to throw new ideas her way, and two fuzzy cats, who love to get in the way.

Unbreakable Bond is her debut novel.

For more information, follow her on Twitter: @jennfischetto or visit her at
http://jenniferfischetto.com
.

* * * * *

OTHER BOOKS BY GEMMA HALLIDAY