Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3 (5 page)

That was when I looked up and saw the name plate on the door. Steven Conrad, District Attorney.

The hamster on my mental wheel got off his fat booty and started jogging. A known drug dealer was slipping in to see the District Attorney late at night. This smacked of the sort of corruption I'd been looking for. Was this a payoff? Was the DA himself fixing cases for Rocky? Or possibly someone higher up the coke food-chain than my strip club-loving friend?

I had a hard time believing that the head of the entire Los Angeles criminal justice system was involved in something so vile. And yet
…

I leaned forward, slightly bent at the waist, and pressed my ear against the crack, hoping to overhear juicy intel. But if anyone was talking, they were whispering because I couldn't hear a thing. Minutes ticked by until I heard…

"Nice panties," said an all-too familiar voice.

Chills raced down my back. I gasped and jerked upright. Oh God, please don't let that be him. Please, please, please…

I swung around and faced Aiden.

Clearly God knew I wasn't a regular church-goer.

Aiden raised his brows and gazed at my middle.

Heat ricocheted throughout my body, causing my head to ignite like a tiki torch. I wiggled my skirt back into place and said the first thing I thought of.

"Hi, there!"

I sounded like a cheerleader, painfully enthusiastic. I was sure my stupid smile hadn't helped, but I felt the corners of my mouth creep up before I could stop them.

"Hi." He said it slowly and drawn out, as he would to someone who was hard of hearing or if English wasn't their native language.

I just stared at his beautiful, yet inquisitive, eyes. I hadn't expected to actually run into him. He'd been at his desk, diligently working for the past couple of hours. Why had he stopped now?

When I didn't say anything back, he asked, "Why are you here? How'd you get in? And why was your skirt up that high?"

I opened my mouth, not sure where to start.

He raised a hand, open palm. "Actually, I don't want to know about the skirt."

I decided the full truth was the only way to go. "I got a tip from a waitress who was the girlfriend of that corrupt cop, Jack Brady."

The Brady case had only been wrapped up a week ago, but it felt like a century. Aiden had been the lead prosecutor. It not only involved him but Derek and a corrupt judge, and it was the reason Danny was shot.

Aiden's jaw tightened. At least I had his professional attention. "Go on."

"She said that someone in the DA's office might be taking bribes from someone."

He raised his brows again.

"Yeah, okay, so I know it's flimsy, but…"

"You're taking the word of a corrupt ex-cop's girlfriend?"

I blinked. "Yes. Why?"

His eyes widened. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You don't believe me."

"It's a tough sell," he hedged. But his eyes said he thought I was loony.

"Just because Brady was corrupt doesn't mean the information is wrong. Just the opposite, in fact. He'd have inside knowledge."

"And absolutely no reason to give it to you," Aiden pointed out.

"Jillian is very reliable." Granted, she'd left town shortly after the trial, just like Brady, but that didn't mean she'd lied to me or had misinformation. I was especially certain after just trailing Rocky up here.

I tried again. "Look, I've been watching the office…"

"Wait—you've been watching me?"

"Uh…" Perhaps I should have glossed over that part. "That's not important. What's important is that I just saw Rocky something-or-other walk into this building and into that office. He's a known drug dealer."

"And?"

"And he's in the DA's office right now."

"Aaaaand?" Aiden asked, drawing out the word.

I threw my hands up. "And doesn't that strike you as
odd
? I mean, why now? What are they doing in there?"

"I hope you're not insinuating that the DA is taking bribes from a drug dealer." It was a statement more than a question, once that said in no uncertain terms that I had better watch my step. Aiden was in full-on lawyer mode now, and I had a feeling anything I said could and would be used against me in the future.

"I'm saying it's
odd
," I repeated.

Aiden shook his head. "Rocky something-or-other?"

"Yes." Exactly. Was he finally believing me? "He's a known drug dealer. I met him when I worked at The Spotted Pony."

There went those brows again.

I groaned. "Not work-worked. I was undercover. It was a long time ago. It doesn't matter. What does is that Rocky dated one of the girls, and he supplied drugs to some of the other dancers and patrons."

"Did you report this Rocky something-or-other to the police?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, I didn't."

He gave me his best "ADA Aiden Prince" look, the one he usually reserved for making a witness squirm on the stand.

"Give me a break. I'm a PI not a cop. If I reported every little infraction of the law I encountered in my line of work, I'd be camping at the precinct full time."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "So instead of helping the police put away a—how did you put it?—
known drug dealer
, you were there to catch a cheating husband, and a mere criminal didn't merit blowing a simple infidelity case."

Geeze. It wasn't as if I overlooked someone being murdered.

His tone, the way he seemed to want to take every word I said and boil it down to some meaningless heap of dog doo was starting to tick me off. My hands curled. Not that I'd actually hit him, but I placed them on my hips, just the same. "That
is
my job."

"And mine is on my desk, waiting for me to get back to it."

I stood straighter, almost meeting him eye-to-eye. "So you're just going to let this
known criminal
in the next room hang out there because he doesn't merit delaying your mountain of paperwork? Wow, you really are all about justice," I said, turning the tables on him.

His eyes hardened. I'd admit I was a bit gleeful that I'd hit a nerve.

I didn't wait for him to respond. "Rocky walked in off the street, got on the elevator, walked through those doors, and into that office."

"That's not possible."

Was he calling me a liar? For a brief moment I wondered why he'd been so attractive to me before now.

"The building doors are locked after six. No one can get in without a key."

"Unless someone unlocked it on purpose so Rocky could get inside. Someone like…" I pointed to the DA's office.

He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. "The DA is vacationing in Hawaii with his wife for the week."

My stomach sank. Oh. That didn't sound or look good. There went my credibility.

"Fine, but I know what I saw. He entered the building, and—" I began again, in case all these hours at work were actually leeching brain cells and he needed another explanation.

But he didn't let me finish. Instead he leaned forward and pushed the door fully open.

I followed him inside as he flipped a switch, turning on an overhead. Light forced back the shadows. The office, aside from the usual furniture and a browning plant on a side table, was empty.

What the hell?

Another step in and I noticed two doors along the left wall. One was narrow, up by the back wall of windows, and shut. I assumed it was a closet. The other, however, was ajar, and it led to another office or a smaller hall. It was dark, and I couldn't make it out. Rocky must've gone through that door. He could be anywhere in the building.

And now I felt stupid.

I turned to Aiden, almost afraid to look at his expression.

But he didn't seem mad or triumphant that he'd proved me wrong. Much. The tiny lines around his eyes were soft, and the corners of his mouth were down turned a bit. If anything, he looked tired. I hated that all the reasons I'd been unable to get him out of my mind came flooding back to me.

"I don't know what to say. Obviously I was wrong about the DA, but I followed Rocky up to this floor. I don't know who he's here to see, but someone…"

Sound came from the mysterious doorway. I turned back just in time to see Miranda walk through. She held a stack of papers and smiled at Aiden, completely ignoring me. As if a stranger in the office at night was a common occurrence.

Hmm, was it?

"Do have you a minute to go over these?" she asked him.

"Of course." He glanced at me and lowered his voice. "I'm sure you know the way out."

In other words, he didn't want to catch me snooping around anymore.

I nodded. I had no intention of continuing my search. Tonight.

Aiden stood by the main office door and waited for Miranda and me to step into the hall before he pushed in a button on the knob then firmly shut the door, locking me out. He knew me too well. Then he and Miranda took a right and headed down the hall.

As I watched them discuss some legal matter, their shoulders brushing against one another with each in-sync step, I ran through what had just happened.

Rocky went into the DA's office. I was sure of that. He must've left through that side door. The same door Miranda walked through a minute later. Chances were most of the offices up here were interconnected, and walking through them to get to your destination was common. Nothing weird or suspicious.

Aiden and Miranda stopped in front of his office. As they turned and walked in, her gaze finally flickered to me. It wasn't long enough to read. She had to wonder who I was. Did she think I was Aiden's girlfriend? Probably not. His co-workers most likely knew about his wife. Maybe he even told her he wasn't dating.

Wait, how did she know Aiden and I were in the DA's office? Had she heard us from the hallway? Or had she heard us from
inside
the office, quickly slipping Rocky out the side door as someone entered?

There were too many unanswered questions, and I clearly wasn't getting those answers tonight.

I headed to the elevator.

Maybe I was seeing more than what actually existed. Yes, Rocky definitely was in here, but maybe he was simply involved with one of the secretaries.

The doors whooshed open, and I stepped onto the elevator. Nah, I didn't believe that. Brady's girlfriend was telling the truth. Someone in this office was taking bribes.

I pressed the L button.

And I'd be more than happy to learn it was Miranda Valens.

CHAPTER FOUR

The next morning in the office, Maya handed me my usual highly caffeinated, highly sweetened beverage, and I handed her a sticky note with Miranda's name written on it. "Can you please find me everything you can on her?"

Maya glanced at the neon pink square. "Sure. Is she a new Livingston girlfriend?"

"No. It's another case."

She frowned. I knew she hated it when I kept secrets as much as when I rifled through her uber organized drawers for a pen.

"Remember Jack Brady?" I relented.

Maya whistled. "Who could forget? Built like a brick wall and almost killed you from the backseat of your car."

Technically he was only trying to scare me. Which I refused to admit he had succeeded in doing. "His girlfriend told me there's corruption in the DA's office."

Maya shot me a knowing look then waved the sticky note, "And this woman is behind it?"

I wished. "Not sure yet. Need the intel."

"You got it." She turned to her keyboard and began typing.

"Oh, can you also find out the real name of a drug dealer called Rocky?"

Maya raised her perfectly waxed brows but this time simply nodded and jotted down a note on a pad of paper.

Caleigh stepped from her office. "Ready to go meet girlfriend number one, boss?"

"Let's go."

*  *  *

Half an hour later Caleigh and I were in West Hollywood at a place called Starlight. It was some night club I'd only heard of in passing. Supposedly they had live entertainment and killer mojitos. I parked in the back, and we walked around the dark blue building to ornate double doors.

Inside the overhead lights were turned up brighter than they'd ever be during business hours. A full stage lined most of the far wall, with a bar to our left and tables everywhere else. It had 'jazz club' written all over it, with teak hardwood floors and mahogany tables.

We walked down two steps and steered our way toward the bartender, who had his back to us, wiping glasses with a towel. Another man was on stage strumming a guitar, and one more wiped down the tables.

"Hi," I shouted over the beginning chords of a song.

The bartender flinched then turned. "Sorry, we're closed."

"I know. I'm looking for someone. Melanie Anderson."

The bartender visually checked us out. He may have lingered on Caleigh longer than necessary. I guessed we passed his little inspection because he pointed to the stage.

I glanced over and did a double take. A woman with curves in all the right places had stepped onto it. She walked to the standing microphone. "One, two, testing."

That was one of Stuart's girlfriends? She could not have been more opposite to his wife.

"Mind if we wait?" I asked the bartender.

He waved a hand to the tables. "Pick a seat."

Melanie opened her mouth, and a syrupy voice, thick and sultry sang the first note of a bluesy tune. She wore her brown hair in long waves—the kind that never saw frizz no matter what the weather. She had on a simple gray tunic and tight jeans with high-heeled boots, yet she still looked stunning.

I glanced to Caleigh, and we both raised our brows.

"How can the wife tolerate knowing he's been with her? I'd be jealous to death," Caleigh said.

I nodded, in complete agreement.

We chose a table up front, dead center to the stage, and sat down.

After a few minutes of watching Melanie sing, the way she swayed her hips, slow and in tune to the melody, I realized the guitar player was staring at Caleigh. A smile tugged at his mouth. He had that trendy, just-got-out-of-bed-and-I'm-still-perfect look to him. Brown hair that fell into his eyes when he played made him look more intense.