London clenched her teeth and counted to ten as she sat in the front passenger seat of Heath’s SUV as he drove her to Seven Dishes. Downtown Seattle was bright and sunny this Saturday afternoon. A stark contrast to London’s irked disposition.
“I don’t know what you’re annoyed about,” Heath reasoned. “We’re talking about a few small items of nonessential clothing.”
She swung her gaze to Heath. “You stole all my underwear. My very essential Victoria’s Secret sapphire blue lace trim pair, my La Perla apricot high cut, not to mention the cute black ones with the pink ribbon detail, among others.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “I hadn’t even worn them yet.”
If she was hoping for shame from Heath, his unabashed grin proved a supreme disappointment. “I didn’t steal your underwear, Red. I simply moved them, just as you did mine.”
“But you won’t tell me where you moved them to.” And she’d asked. As well as pleaded, which an hour later turned to yelling and less than five minutes after that threats of retaliation. At which point Heath reminded her he was bigger, meaner, and an expert at working a set of cuffs. “I only moved your briefs from one drawer to another.”
“Poor follow-through on your part, Red.” Heath ignored her glare as he pulled in to park in front of House of Jade.
The moment the car was stationary, London was out and hustling toward the shiny black painted door of Jinx’s salon. She was a few feet short of her destination when a firm hand gripped the back of her jeans. “Ease up there, luv.” Heath’s eyes shined with his amusement. “You didn’t give me a goodbye kiss.”
“Since you refused to stop at the Nordstrom’s store a street away, I don’t see why I should.”
“Nevertheless…” Heath leaned in, claiming her mouth.
And dammit it all to hell, the firm pressure of his lips combined with the way he easily held her in place by her jeans added another layer of pleasure to their kiss.
When he lifted his head she was too slow to mask her enjoyment. From Heath’s grin, he was satisfied with what he saw.
“Sometimes a girl just can’t get a break,” she muttered to herself. “Fine, you bested me with your counter prank.” True enough. But she added for fun, “Now you can begin your shift at work knowing I’m wearing no underwear as I walk past various men in public.”
Heath’s grin disappeared in a flash.
Ah, sweet revenge.
With a bright smile, she broke free, walked up the three steps to the black door and pushed the buzzer.
Jinx’s voice sounded through the intercom’s speaker. “We’re on our way down.”
We? Maybe Cleo or Harper was with her? London’s team of merry helpers was due to meet at Seven Dishes in a few minutes.
She glanced over her shoulder, about to tell Heath she’d see him back at his house, when she spotted the way he stared at a man getting out of a black BMW parked in front of Heath’s SUV.
Tall, with dark hair and a ruggedly handsome face, the man’s clear blue gaze locked on Heath and flashed with something equaling challenge. Dressed all in black, from his tailored pants, shirt and shoes, he looked an inch or so shorter than Heath’s six feet three, but carried more bulk.
The man moved to stand three feet from them. “Justice.”
“Bishop.” Heath’s flat tone held no warmth.
London went still. Bishop. Business mogul. Suspected criminal. Heath wasn’t a fan.
Neither man extended a hand in greeting.
The cool blue gaze that had regarded Heath switched to her and she held her breath under his hard, assessing stare. No words were said between them, and London had to admit, she’d likely have no voice.
With a loud click of lock, the door behind her opened. London moved down the three steps as Jinx and a stunning looking woman dressed in skintight jeans and a figure hugging red top exited the building.
Jinx smiled at London. “Hi, honey, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She turned to the tall brunette beside her. “Cashmere La Croix, this is London Shaw.”
The woman extended her free hand. “Jinx is a big fan of yours. I’m going to have to grab one of your books.” She moved to stand next to Bishop, who took two garment bags from her and held them out to his driver who stood next to the back passenger door of the BMW.
“I’m going to have to stock her salon with some copies if Jinx’s PR skills are that great,” London joked, and the three women laughed.
Jinx waved to Heath. “And this is Detective Heath Justice.” Cashmere smiled as Heath nodded. Jinx continued the last of her introductions. “London Shaw, Heath, meet Declan Bishop.”
“Hi,” London offered, keeping her smile.
“London.” Declan’s gaze lingered on her before flicking back to Jinx.
“Declan and I have met before.” Heath’s polite tone couldn’t mask the fact neither man acknowledged the other with a glance or nod.
Jinx blinked but her smile remained in place. “Oh, I see.”
“Jinx, as ever, thank you.” Declan smiled at Jinx, giving London a glimpse of how handsome his face was when looking less stern. He then steered Cashmere to the BMW.
Cashmere looked over her shoulder to Jinx, “Thanks, girl. I’ll give you a call about that necklace.”
Jinx nodded. “Do that.”
Seconds later, after the BMW merged into the traffic, Jinx hugged both London and Heath. “Sorry about that, we were running late. Cashmere has two events she needed help with, and her benefactors are very exacting on how they’d like her to look.”
London raised a brow. “Her benefactors?” Then the penny dropped. “You mean she’s Bishop’s mistress?”
“No, not Bishop’s, at least not exclusively. Cashmere’s is a free agent,” Jinx stated. “She provides certain services to wealthy gentlemen when they need an escort or want company when entertaining for parties.”
“Wow, like an exclusive call girl.”
“You both know I’m a cop, right?” Heath said in dry voice.
Ooops.
“Heath, about Declan.” Jinx winced. “I should have thought first. I guess you’re aware of his father’s past.”
“Not your problem, babe.” Heath gave Jinx a soft smile. “Part of my job is I’m naturally suspicious.” He tugged a lock of London’s hair. “Gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.” With a quick kiss, he walked to his car, and she and Jinx waved as he drove off.
“That guy is melt-worthy,” Jinx mused softly.
“He confiscated my underwear,” London blurted out before she thought.
Jinx burst out laughing. She swapped her tote to her other hand and hooked her arm with London’s as they crossed the road to Seven Dishes. “Now this story I have to hear.”
Unfortunately for Jinx, that would have to wait for another time. For along with everyone who’d been invited to partake in their afternoon planning session, they had two surprise guests. Adam Justice sat at their table, along with an elegant looking older woman with short, swept back blonde hair who wore a crisp yellow linen blouse and matching skirt.
“That’s Harper’s mom, Elizabeth,” Jinx shared as London shot her a questioning glance.
Harper met them at the counter and handed London the keys to her car. She’d felt lost without her car, which had stayed parked in the alleyway behind Harper’s building since she’d been escorted from the café by the police on Thursday. “Mom and Adam popped in for a visit on their way to some appointment.” She glanced over her shoulder at the table and then back. “I don’t think they’ll stay long.”
“No problem, hon.” London waved away Harper’s concerns.
After she and Jinx joined the table, and London kissed her mom and grandma, Adam introduced her to Mrs. Fox.
London sat next to Cleo with Jinx beside her and then Mercy. Across the table was her mom, grandma, Adam, and Mrs. Fox.
Harper came bearing two plates piled with assorted pastries, and one of the waitresses carried a tray with various beverages. London ordered an iced coffee.
“I’m sorry for your family’s loss, Mrs. Fox,” London said as Harper pulled a chair from another table and sat at the end near her mom.
“That’s very kind of you, London,” Mrs. Fox said gently. “Harper tells me you’ve just suffered a terrible shock as well, so I appreciate you thinking of my family.”
Glancing between Harper and her mom, London could see the resemblance, more in a shared mannerism, like the way they each meet everyone’s gaze—direct and interested.
“Young man,” Grandma said to Adam from her seat beside him, “Cleo tells us you’re starting your own private security and investigations business.” Her eyes sparked with excitement. “That’s got to be fun. Do you have an armory of weapons? What about a big room filled with computers and screens? Are you planning on having a team of guys dressed in all black like you?”
Adam’s mouth twitched. “While I can’t reveal my secrets,”—he lowered his head a smidge closer to her grandma—“I can say my future plans include some of what you said and more.”
Grandma leaned back in her chair, looking pretty pleased at hearing the proof of her deductions.
Just like her mother-in-law, apparently Joanna Shaw was intrigued. “That does sound thrilling.”
“He’s rather good at his job, Mrs. Shaw.” Elizabeth Fox stirred her coffee. “Especially the way he deals with annoying federal agents and police who speak to me like I’m either a deaf grandmother or public enemy number one.” She flashed her smile to everyone around the table, revealing a face full of beauty that was sometimes hidden under her normally more reserved self. “The time Adam made that arrogant young pup write out an apology for badgering me about the key for the lock to my mother’s old steam trunk is my favorite.”
Harper asked the question on everyone’s mind as she glanced at Adam. “How did you manage that?”
He held her gaze, but remained silent as he drank his coffee.
Elizabeth Fox patted her daughter’s hand. “Like I’ve explained to that Agent Tollison in regard to your father’s business dealings, sometimes I find it best not to ask.”
London chuckled as Harper rolled her eyes at her mother.
Adam proved he was more resilient sitting at a table with a group of chatty women than London could have imagined. He lasted a further ten minutes before looking at his watch and reminding Mrs. Fox they were due to meet with an “associate”. No other information was forthcoming, and frankly, London didn’t think even her grandma would dare ask Adam for more details.
Once the coast was clear, Harper moved into the seat vacated by Adam, and London outlined her basic plan. Or more the rules regarding whatever the women could put in said plan.
“I already promised mom we wouldn’t do anything to earn ourselves a nomination for the ‘Too Stupid To Live’ Award. So that means no deliberate breaking of laws, no going anywhere by yourself when on a mission—we adhere strictly to the buddy system, and”—she looked pointedly at her grandma—“no weapons.”
Estelle Shaw’s mouth dropped in appalled shock. “Why look at me when you say that?”
“You did just ask Adam if he had an armory,” Mercy gently reminded her.
The older woman sat straighter in her chair. “I was only thinking of what worked for him, not us.”
“My apologies, Gran.” London wasn’t completely convinced the older woman wouldn’t love the idea of a Taser in her purse, but she’d leave well enough alone.
Cleo pushed away her used plate and rested her clasped hands in front of her on the table. “Do you have anything to get us started on a list of actions?”
London shared Heath’s news of a suspicious acting male who was caught on CCTV gaining entry to Henry’s building around the time of his death and that one of the fire exists was not monitored, meaning the guy could have left the building undetected. She also shared the possible theory that the killer could have been someone stalking Henry. “That’s one of the main reasons Heath doesn’t want me to get involved with helping the guys in their investigation. I did offer, but to say he was firm in turning me down was an understatement.”
“I’m not asking you to stay away from our investigation, I’m telling you.”
No ambiguity there.
“So we tread with care.” Jinx glanced around the table. “Henry’s apartment building is a big tower downtown. I checked; there are listings for rent. One of us could be a prospective tenant checking the place out and their friend goes with them. Can’t hurt to ask some general questions and see what comes up.”
“I like that idea,” London’s mom stated.
So did London.
Mercy volunteered to go with Jinx on the apartment mission. Cleo volunteered to go soft, really soft, and ask a couple of questions of a trusted friend at Henry’s publishers, see how things had been professionally for the thriller author.
Harper, Mom and Grandma would be assigned tasks as developments happened.
Any information gathered would be sent to London who’d update the team.
All the women agreed with Cleo that London needed to stay clear of asking anyone questions regarding Henry. Others could get away with the excuse of curiosity. London had already been tied to the event because of her pen being the murder weapon and drawing further attention would be disastrous.
“What about that bitch, Angelique Dupree?” Harper’s tone bordered on sneering. “Has your agent kicked her ass for you?”
A horrible metallic taste filled London’s mouth. The same taste she’d had when as a twelve-year-old she’d stood in line with Aidan for her first ride on a rollercoaster. “My agent hasn’t returned any of my calls since Thursday.”
Silence greeted her statement until Mercy spoke. “And your readers?”
On that point, she felt a trickle of relief. “Apart from a few comments, the vast majority have been great. They agree right now is about Henry, and not another person using the situation for their own publicity.”
“I can ask around about Angelique, too,” Cleo suggested. “I know she was pitching a new series to her publisher.”
“Good idea.” London “She told me at my signing she was in negotiations with the same TV producer to feature in an in-depth story of a successful author.”
“So we have a plan to start with.” Her mom looked around the table before she gathered up her bag. “London, you sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?”
“Thanks, Mom, but no. I’m way behind on my book and need to catch up. Heath’s working most days with his case, so I may come around tomorrow night instead?”
“Sounds good,” her mom agreed before she and Estelle left, soon followed by Mercy who had a movie date with Aidan. Jinx headed off to get ready for a friend’s dinner party and Cleo was having early drinks and possibly dinner with a guy she’d met at a local art gallery.
Harper walked out to the alley with London. The bubbly café owner wrapped her in a hug as they stood beside London’s car. “It’s all going to be okay, babe. My advice? Take this one day at a time.”
“I could say the same to you.” London unlocked her car and put her tote inside. “Heath told me your mom’s organized a private memorial service for Tuesday.”
“Yeah,” Harper looked off to the side, her voice soft, almost distant as she spoke. “Mom wants to keep things as dignified as possible since we don’t know what’s still to come to light with the investigation.”
Harper’s words played over in London’s mind as she drove to Heath’s house. Most people say they would prefer to know the truth about something, regardless of how ugly it may prove. However, when confronted with the facts, some wish they could reverse time and go back to their state of blissful ignorance.
London only hoped the answers she sought wouldn’t lead to her being haunted with the same regret.
****
Heath hit enter on his keyboard and locked in tomorrow’s meeting with the District Attorney for an update on one of Heath’s earlier cases. The husband of a murdered fifty-one-year-old woman was soon up for trial, and he and the DA needed to make sure they had everything squared away. He’d have to devote some time this morning to making sure he had all his notes on hand.
He glanced at the dates on the top of his calendar. Today was Thursday. Two weeks since he’d met London. And a week now since he’d ‘evacuated’ her from the new crews siege of her grandma’s house.
His home—and life—had never been the same since. The whirlwind of disorder that was London ensured his well-planned existence had become a thing of the past. Neither questioned the fact London was still staying at his place, even though the news crews had moved on that first Friday night. But gradually, more of her stuff seemed to come over, until half his bathroom cabinet was stocked with her toiletries.
He smiled to himself at the memory of this morning’s adventure. Walking into his kitchen, he found London had risen early to cook him pancakes and bacon whilst he was in the shower. His kitchen was a war zone of dirty dishes and mess covering the counters and sink. For someone who cleaned as they cooked, that would normally have the skin on his neck itching. But one look at the sweet joy on London’s face as she stood before the stove wearing one of his t-shirts, and he was a goner. As she had served him a plate piled with more pancakes than he could eat in a week, Heath was prepared to trade a lifetime of clean counters for London’s brand of mayhem.
Now, thinking about how much that idea sat easily with him had him wondering: Exactly what were his feelings for Red?
In the last week, they had deepened more than he’d dreamed possible. And when he’d held her in his arms and joked that he could get used to her crazy messing up of his kitchen, he loved the way she’d stared at him, her gaze full of—Christ, he didn’t know if he was right—hope?
“Now that’s a complication.”
Heath looked up at Derek’s words. His partner was at his desk, his brow creased as he looked at his computer screen.
“What?” Heath asked.
“Got an email from that buddy of mine in Portland PD. Vargas has come up on their system. The teams down there broke a cartel that ran girls from California up through to Oregon. Vargas’s name was mentioned by a victim in her statement.” Derek sighed. “She made a possible ID, but can’t be sure since she was kept drugged and memories are hazy. Thinks he brought food to the room she was locked in a couple of times.”
That uneasy feeling Heath had about this case heightened. “If she’s right, our case against Vargas is blown, but it sounds like she’s not sure. And our guy’s not the only Ruiz Vargas on the west coast.”
“Correct, and she’s pretty traumatized. The kid’s only fourteen.”
Christ. Heath pushed back from his desk. “Guess we better update Sarge.”
Derek fell into step beside him. “I got a feeling this case isn’t going to end the way we want it to, Justice.”
“Tell me about it.”
****
London concentrated on her mascara wand and tried not to look at Heath lounging in the bathroom doorway.
She’d spent the last twenty minutes rushing around Heath’s bedroom, trying on outfits she had collected earlier in the day from her house. She would have been dressed way earlier, but she’d had to take a call from Gloria, her MIA agent, who summarily fired her as a client. Or was that consciously uncoupled herself from London? Either way, thirty minutes after the call, London was finding it hard to craft a dramatic eye makeup when her hand wouldn’t stop shaking.
“Do you want me to call the girls and ask them to come over here instead?”
“No!” She cursed as her rather forceful tone was amplified in the tiled bathroom.
Heath’s brows rose. “Okay. I was just thinking it might make it easier on you since you’ve had a nasty shock.”
Except two of her team members were off on a mission checking out listings in Henry’s apartment building, and she needed to get to the restaurant Jinx had booked for their dinner. The plan was they’d meet up and report news over a meal, before visiting a club or two. Or three if her grandmother had the deciding vote.
“Thanks, honey, but we’re all looking forward to tonight, and honestly, I think a girls’ night out may be the best antidote to Gloria’s bitch maneuver.”
The stern set of Heath’s jaw didn’t lessen. “I still think you should let me get Braedon to go over your contract. See if this bitch hasn’t screwed you over.”
“There’s a clause in the contract that says either of us can walk away any time. She keeps earning from the deals she’s already negotiated for me.” London shoved the wand into the tube of mascara, dropped it into her makeup bag and reached for her lipstick. “Besides, I don’t want to fight her.” And London meant every damn word. “Gloria left me hanging for days and has chosen to walk away when I think I’m doing some of my best writing.” Not that the agent’s departure wasn’t a public slap in the face, and might make other agents leery of signing on London.
She paused, lipstick in hand, and breathed in a couple of calming breaths. With a little less tremor in her hand, she managed to do a passable job applying the shimmery rose color.
Makeup done, she ran a critical gaze over her appearance. The sapphire blue dress was cut on the bias to flatter her fuller figure. The v-neckline showed a hint of cleavage, but kept the overall look to sultry and not tawdry. The hem stopped a few inches above her knees, and she completed the overall look with a pair of ruby red stilettos and matching purse.
“I like your hair this way. Out and full.” Heath lifted a big bouncy curl away from her neck and kissed a path from her hairline down to her shoulder.
London gave a little moan. Oh, yes, Heath knew exactly where she loved him to—
The ring of her phone shattered the moment.
“Sorry,” she told Heath and saw her grandma on the caller ID.
“Hey, Gran, I’m nearly ready.” She grabbed her lipstick and powder compact, walked into the bedroom and slid them in her purse. Next, she folded a few ten dollar bills and a credit card. The trick to taking only a small purse when going out was packing like she was going on a twenty-mile hike.
“Your mom and I are waiting in the car outside. We went to the hairdresser this morning and got our hair set,” her grandma shared, anticipation ringing in her voice. “And I’m wearing my black patent leather slippers and black pantsuit. Easy to dance in.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And for any covert work.”
London decided to not specifically address the last comment. “Great, honey. I’ll be there in just a sec.” London shoved her phone in her purse and turned to Heath. “I’ve got to go. Is Seth coming over?”
“Yeah, Zach, too. He drove down from Razor’s Mountain this morning with another load of carvings for a gallery. Milly’s on a sleepover at a friend’s house, so he’ll crash at Harper’s.”
She started walking to the front door. “Maybe you could go out to a local tavern?” After all the long hours he’d been putting in with the three investigations she knew of, along with whatever else he had at work, the man deserved a break.
“I’m thinking we’ll get some chairs and blankets, make a fort in the living room and eat pizza.” Heath said as he pulled the door open for her.
She chuckled as she gazed up at him. “You idiot. I’ll give you a call when we’re headed home.” Standing on tiptoe, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, but Heath gently cupped the back of her hand and ensured a follow-up long lingering kiss. One that would require another application of her lipstick.
Her mom and grandma waved to Heath as she hurried to her mom’s SUV. He stood at the door, not closing it until they’d pulled out into the street.
“You ladies both look lovely.” London leaned forward in her seat as much as her seatbelt would allow. “Have we heard anything from Jinx or Mercy?”
“Negative,” Gran replied. “As far as we are aware, the mission is still ‘go’.”
London flicked her gaze to her mom, who sent her a meaningful look in the review mirror. She sat back in her seat and pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.
As she had many times before, London sent out a blessing of thanks that she had such a freaking cool family.
The drive to the restaurant consisted of London updating her relatives on her ex-agent Gloria’s crappy move. This was soon followed by her hopefully dissuading them from hiring Adam and his as yet not employed team of lethal commandos to wreak revenge on the agent.
“Tonight isn’t about anger, or self-pity or revenge. It’s about us getting out and having some fun. I’ll have plenty of time to obsess over this latest shambles.”
Her mom parked less than a block from the restaurant. When they entered, Harper and Cleo were already seated at their table. The establishment’s décor was rich browns and plums and yellow toned light bulbs hanging from the ceiling on long black cords. High-backed upholstered booths kept each group of diners secluded from the next, adding a sense of decadence.
Cleo grinned as they slid into the booth. The silver threads in her black threaded top shone from the glow of one of the light bulbs. Teamed with thick silver hoop earrings and her long ultra-straight black hair, she looked sleek and stylish. “Ladies, you’re all looking fine tonight.” She grabbed the cocktail menu and scanned the choices. “I need to find myself a rich husband, divorce him and then live off the alimony.”
London “Bad day?”
“No, just weird.” She looked about to say more, but shook her head. “Don’t listen to me. I’m just hungry.”
As if on cue, the waiter arrived and took the new arrivals’ drink orders plus a few shared appetizers for the table. Right behind him were Jinx and Mercy, who added their drink orders too.
Harper’s sun kissed complexion glowed against the warmth of her burgundy boat-neck satin top. “Okay, ladies, who’s updating first?”
Jinx didn’t wait for a second invitation. “We scored big time at Henry’s apartment building. There were three listings for rent, not just two. The third is the doctor’s apartment across the hall from Henry’s.” She waited as everyone made surprised comments. “He and his wife don’t want to live so close to…well, a murder scene. They’ve moved out and are putting the place up for rent. The building supervisor took us there last.”
“Jinx and I were standing outside the apartment after the tour as the supervisor checked all the lights were off inside and the elevator binged.” Mercy glanced around the table. “The doors opened, a guy walked out a few steps, saw us, turned around and got back in. He kept his back to us as the elevator doors closed.”
“And there’s a chance we could just be paranoid,” Jinx shrugged.
“That’s true.” Mercy agreed. “Anyway, we thanked the building supervisor, got the next elevator down and tried to take a picture of him with our phones, but he was nowhere to be seen. For all we know, he could have got off on another floor.”
London’s mom frowned. “There’s so many ways to interpret what happened.”
“And all subjective.” London was beginning to sense a feeling of doom about this item on their grand action plan. “Did you find out anything about Henry from the supervisor?”
“Honestly, no. We used showing the doctor’s apartment as an opening for discussing Henry, but all the man would say is what you already knew. That Henry was a conspiracy theorist who all the staff thought was a bit strange, but he could write one hell of a thriller.”
Harper absently ran her fingers along her thin gold necklace. “I’m betting his employers warned him not to comment to anyone but police.”
“That’s was our take,” Jinx agreed. “God, I’m so disappointed. Mercy and I were feeling our Nancy Drew groove but the wheels fell off somewhere along the way.” Jinx gave a self-depreciating grin.
“I’m imagining both of your Nancy Drews going off to sneak some cuddle time with the Hardy boys.” London reached over and squeezed the hands of both women. “I’m grateful you were both so willing to get involved.” She turned to Cleo. “And what tales of intrigue and mystery can you share?”
“More than you can imagine.” Cleo nodded at London’s surprised expression. “Let me start with Henry. His publisher was, as you’d expect, more than happy with his work and their future plans. I’d say the staff are devastated right now, and not just because of loss of future stories. Henry may have been a little paranoid, but he was an excellent writer and well respected by everyone who worked with him.” Cleo gave London a soft smile. “And I know hearing that is a comfort to you. It was for me, too.”
“Thank you for that, honey.” It would be easy in all the drama that had surrounded her the last week to forget that Cleo had known Henry even longer. Though Cleo and Henry were not as close, and sometimes disagreed, they shared a deep mutual respect.
London remembered a couple of their debates. Fierce trading of ideas in the back of A New Chapter, both proponents passionate about what gave them joy.
What gave them…joy.
What fulfilled them.
What mattered.
London sat staring at her glass of wine. The driving emotions and complex motivations that had governed her, especially over the last week, disintegrated into dust.
Her world had distilled down to two words.
What mattered.
Her family.
Her friends.
Her writing.
…and Heath…and his family.
For the last few weeks she’d tortured herself over her decision whether to take a chance and try writing in another genre. What if this group of readers didn’t want to read her book? And those bloggers who’d followed her from the start? Would they now abandon her? And even when she’d informed Gloria of her decision to go ahead, she’d held off announcing anything. Because she didn’t really know…people could leave, ignore her, move on.
A decision matrix based on fear and self-doubt.
How the hell could she achieve her dreams with those ideals as her foundations?
Surely…
Didn’t courage and determination, the need to fulfill a dream, a desire that nothing else can satisfy, take precedence?
Of course, and London knew this truth. It had been bred into her by a proud and loving family.
So when had she moved from center field to the sidelines when it came to trusting her gut instinct?
She had no fucking idea. Only that the behavior ended now. Here. Right now.
God, she’d been an idiot.
How much had the guilt and panic at her own inaction on the choices she could change made her push herself to find answers to the events and issues of those she could not?
Like the murder of her friend.
A fellow author using her for their own gain.
And whether falling head over heels for a man this quick was normal. When had love ever been normal?
It was time to move forward. And let others know she had.
“Babe, are you with us?” Cleo asked.
London gathered herself and nodded. “Yep, sorry.”
Cleo nodded and continued. “Moving on to Angelique, she did approach her contracted publisher first with her new series. They passed for reasons unknown but much speculated. She and her agent looked elsewhere. She came close to a contract, but apparently the advance was below expectations. The rumor now is she’s re-writing the premise and trying to shop the updated model. Her agents advised her to increase her profile.”
“So these maneuvers of hers against me are purely for publicity purposes.” Talk about feeling used. “Okay.”
Cleo sat back, a deep V formed by her dark eyebrows. “That’s it? Okay?”
“What’s there to say? I’m either going to move on with my life, or get irrationally upset and waste precious angst better left for my characters on someone who doesn’t give a damn whether I exist or not, only that she can be better than me or whomever she puts in my place.”
“But don’t you want to kick Angelique’s ass?” Jinx sat forward, her expression curious, not frustrated.
“Yesterday? Yeah, I did. A week ago? For sure.” London lifted a hand, palm up to start to explain, but let it fall. “Honestly, there comes a time you finally realize not everyone is going to like you. Even worse, sometimes people are mean to you when it’s undeserved.” She shook her head. “I need to apologize to you all.” She let her gaze fall on each person in the booth, letting them know she was speaking to every one of them. “I just had one of those weird as heck epiphanies, but basically, I’m moving on from my panic of not having any control. I do, I have all the control I need. My problem was I wasn’t using it on the things I can manipulate.”
She felt the tug of her mom’s gaze and looked over, past her grandma to the woman who knew her so well. “Thank you for waiting this out with me.”
Her mom’s eyes glimmered under the lighting. A few blinks later, and so did her cheeks. “Anytime, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice craggy.
And as for her grandma. “I’m afraid your covert shenanigans on this team have come to an end, Gran.”
“No problem, honey. I’m thinking those Justice fellas are the kind of men who find plenty of adventures. Just hanging near one of them is bound to include us sooner or later.”
All the women laughed.
Harper lifted her glass in salute. “Estelle, no truer words were ever spoken.”
Over the next two hours, the amount of laughter at their table seemed to increase with the consumption of wine. None of the women were drunk, especially not her mom who, as designated driver, limited herself to diet coke.
From there, it was a quick trip next door to the nightclub Jinx assured them was exclusive as all get-out. They stood in line for what seemed like hours, but in reality, was around twenty minutes. Once inside the four-story glass and marble structure, Jinx led the way like a great explorer marching off into the unknown. The women all followed each other like new kindergarteners on their first day. Any minute now, London expected them to join hands.
Her grandma—at the center of the line to make sure she wasn’t pulled away by the crush of bodies and left to fend for herself—swayed her hips and waved her arms in the air as they made their slow progress. She received many smiles and “Go Granny” mouthed compliments. One young man decided he’d like to dance behind her but the wave of humanity made it look like he was brushing himself up against her, at which point, London’s mom whacked him with her handbag. Go, Mom!
London and Cleo, the last two in the line, burst out laughing, earning them a ‘mom glare’.
Outside the club, Jinx had told them their goal was to reach level four—the most exclusive in the club where permission was required to pass a gold rope. By level three, London was ready to apply for citizenship and never move again after they found enough seats for everyone and obtained drinks at the bar. This level was awesome in that she could actually see the décor—arctic white ceilings, white marble everything, and white leather sofas with the same colored lights strobing and flashing as downstairs. Clubs this expensive and stylish were designed for the patrons to be seen. No dark corners in this establishment. The drinks were more expensive as they went up each floor—great way to sort out the herd—and there was more seating, although the dance floor was smaller.
“We’ll take a break here and push on in twenty minutes,” Jinx called out from her vast distance of three feet away.
London laughed to herself. Trekking, club style.
From the corner of her eye, London swore she saw a familiar face. Well, familiar in the sense she knew the woman. Tall. Stunning. Wearing a white dress that shone iridescent under the lighting, Cashmere La Croix walked with a sway of her hips up the staircase. She was just passing, turning to go up the next flight of stairs when she turned and looked over in London’s direction.
Their gazes met, and to London’s surprise, Cashmere waved, turned and started to make her way over.
London leaned in to Jinx. “Behind you.” She pointed in Cashmere’s direction.
Jinx rose and went over to her client. They performed a quick hug, and Cashmere pointed toward upstairs and nodded a few times.
Jinx spun to face them and pointed to the stairs, a huge smile on her face. Everyone stood, not because they were dying to get to the top, but Jinx’s business as a stylist worked on word of mouth recommendations, and even though London knew her friend had a formidable reputation, keeping that profile high would only add more luster.
Nobody bothered with introductions considering the noise level. Their group made it up the stairs to the golden rope area. A skinny short guy in a smart suit and wearing dark rimmed glasses stood at the top. He wore an earpiece and tiny mic, held a clipboard, possessed a haughty stare and more attitude then Aretha Franklin demanding some R-E-S-P-E-C-T. Behind him were two burly guys in black suits who looked like they tossed giant Redwoods as if they were matchsticks.
Cashmere leaned in close to the shorter door bitch and did some explaining. London was amazed at the huge smile that transformed the man’s face from pinched to warm and—dare she say it—friendly.
In no time, they were escorted to a seating area to the side, warm ambient light from lamps and specially placed globes in the ceiling illuminated their area. The décor on this floor would best be called Goldeneye. Black leather arm chairs, smoke glass tables and gold ottomans were scattered in groups over a black marble floor. Semi-sheer gold curtains wafted down from a high ceiling around each clump of chairs, forming a huge two-sided square. In layers of three, the curtains provided the idea of privacy. London counted twenty squares in all over the floor.
Alas, there was no dance floor, but she could see groups of people dancing within their semi private squares.
The women settled in the chairs, and with the volume way lower than level 3, Cashmere explained without having the shout that this floor was strictly waiter service. Drinks were free as you were a guest of a patron of the club.
Further, she explained she was there with a gentleman tonight who liked her full attention when on this floor, so she had asked Randolph, the floor manager, to see to their needs.
As she went to move away, she smiled at London. “I told him how your books have made the bestseller lists. He loves that sort of thing. Expect him to come over at some point to say hello.” And with that, she walked across the floor to a square two rows to the right.
London had a cocktail, then another. She was having a fabulous time and danced with all the other girls in their ‘square’. The illusion of privacy was so strong a person would have thought they couldn’t be seen by the other guests or patrons on the floor.
But that proved wrong.
“Hello, London,” a deep, gravelly male voice said behind her.
She turned, drink in hand, and nearly fell as Declan Bishop stood before her.
Dressed in black pants and shoes, white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscled forearms and an open collar that showed off his tanned skin, he stood around a foot taller than her.
“Declan.” London couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. Not that he’d be here, but that he’d approach her. She glanced at Jinx, who’d lowered her glass to the table and moved closer. “Can I—“
“Jinx, get your friends together, you’re leaving.” He spoke quietly, but with undisputed authority that had the women gathering their belongings. Taking London’s upper arm in a firm, but not painful grip, he moved to the stairs, but seeing the crowds and her Grandma, he apparently changed his mind. “Randolph, elevator.” The shorter man handed Declan a keycard, and he led their group to the far side wall. “This isn’t the night for you to be here.” He swiped the card, and the doors opened. Everyone piled in. Silent. Nervous.
The trip down was swift.
The doors opened to a basement garage.
A man, tall and broad shouldered, stood ready to enter the elevator. He stared back at them.
“That’s him!” Mercy and Jinx yelled in unison.
Surprise washed over the man’s features before he turned and ran.
Declan Bishop chased after him, nearly catching the guy before a car backed out of a parking space and cut him off from his quarry. The driver sat, hands on the wheel, mouth open, staring at Declan.
“Fuck!” Declan bellowed as the man ripped open a fire door and disappeared.
A squeal of tires, then another, came from the opposite direction. Three vehicles, Heath’s SUV, Adam’s Explorer, and Seth’s Tesla roared to a stop in front of their little group that had spilled out of the elevator.
Heath and Seth flung themselves out of their vehicles. Adam and Zach joined seconds later.
Ignoring the people around them, Heath pulled her into his arms. “You okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I’m just not sure what’s happened.” Or why he was here.
“Declan called Adam. We were at his place.” Heath spared Declan a glance and kept talking. “Said one of his men overhead one of the bouncers here get orders they needed to quarantine a group of women on the top floor. One of them some big name author and that they thought she might have drugs.” He ran his hands over her hair, across her shoulders, starting down her arms. “Did any of them touch you?” He looked over her head at the other women. “Any of you?”
“No, Heath, they never got a chance.” London’s head spun at the mention of drugs. “Declan had us in the elevator and then we got here and saw the guy.”
His brows drew into a frown. “What guy?”
“From Henry’s apart—“ Jinx broke off, closing her eyes and hanging her head.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
Heath’s body stiffened. His grip on her upper arms tightened. “What’s she talking about?”
“It’s my idea. My fault,” Jinx threw out. She stepped close, but Zach pulled her back by her arm, earning him a glare for his troubles.
“I decided I needed to not be a victim and, instead, get back some control over what had happened to me with Henry.” At the anger banked in Heath’s gaze, she went to step away but was held fast by his grip. “You explained why that wasn’t smart, and I should have listened, but I didn’t. I could have said no to Jinx’s idea.” She closed her eyes for a second and gathered up her courage. “I asked the girls if they wanted to help me find some answers.”
A muscle ticked in Heath’s jaw. “Exactly what did that entail?”
Jinx gestured with elbow bent, one hand, palm up, in front of her. “I suggested going to Henry’s apartment building and looking at vacant listings to see if we could ask the building supervisor any questions. Maybe he’d let something slip.”
“You could have all been seriously hurt tonight.” Adam’s voice rumbled with his anger.
Seth wasn’t much better, having a hold of Harper’s arm like he was escorting a prisoner to their cell.
And Zach still hadn’t let go of Jinx’s arm.
“Gentlemen, I understand your anger, but the girls really didn’t mean to cause harm. London was even saying earlier how much she knows she needs to trust you all to find the answers she’s seeking.”
God bless her mom.
Heath’s gaze had flicked from her to her mom and returned.
“Okay, look, you guys have the right to be frustrated with us. But we never intended to damage your investigation. And frankly, I don’t yet know everything that happened here tonight. And I can tell you I don’t have any drugs. So if you don’t mind, I’d like to get Mom and Gran home, then Heath and I can argue further.”
Declan shoved his hands into his front pockets and walked to the elevator. “I’ll leave this in your capable hands, Detective.” The elevator doors opened, and seconds later, Declan disappeared from view.
“He’s like some smoke and mirrors guy.” Cleo said from where she stood next to Mercy. “One moment he appeared upstairs, and the next moment, we’re down here alone.”
“Not alone,” Adam reminded her, then turned back to Jinx. “You go to the apartment by yourself?
“No, with Mercy.”
He turned to the high school teacher. “Tell us about the guy at Henry’s apartment.”
“He came out of the elevator when we were talking to the building supervisor.” Mercy rubbed her arms. “But then he caught sight of us in the hallway and went back into the elevator, and that was the last we saw of him. Until that man Declan brought us down here.”
“You speak to him at Henry’s apartment?” Heath demanded of Jinx and Mercy.
“No.”
“No.”
“Tomorrow morning, first thing, you meet Seth and do an identikit of his face.” Adam scowled at both women. “You don’t show, I’ll find you.”
“We’ll be there.” Mercy’s voice was calm, but she looked shaken by running into the man so easily.
“Adam, you’ll see London’s family to their car?”
The oldest Justice brother nodded and moved to the women. “Is your car close, Mrs. Shaw?”
But Joanna was looking to her daughter. “Honey, you sure it’s okay for us to go?”
No, but she wasn’t going to use her mom and grandma as shields when arguing with Heath. “I’m fine. You go.” Since Heath refused to let go of her arms, she was locked in place couldn’t offer up a hug or kiss.
With a searching look at both Heath and London, her mom allowed Adam to take Grandma’s hand and lead her to the back passenger seat of his vehicle.
Heath pulled her with him to his SUV. He opened his passenger door, lifted her up into the vehicle and slammed it closed.
Then he was behind the wheel, and the car was moving. Not speeding. Not screeching the tires. He flexed his grip on the steering wheel. That iron-willed control.
“Seatbelt,” he said in a clipped, angry voice.
London guessed now wasn’t the right time, but she had to have something, some shred of understanding. “Promise me when we get home you’ll let me explain.”
“We will definitely be conducting a question and answer process, Red.” He slid his gaze from the windshield to her face. “Count on it.”
What mattered.
She hoped he gave her a chance to tell him.