Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3 (8 page)

His friends walked over and stood at my hood. One watched Snake Man while the other stared me down—hard and full of anger. Obviously none of them knew how not to scare away new business. Assuming they actually worked on cars here, and the Camaro and filthy rags weren't just for show.

I swallowed twice and tried to keep my composure, but a thin layer of fear pressed my blouse to my back.

Snake Man came up behind me, raising the hairs on the back of my neck. I leaned toward my car to get away from his odor of tobacco and stale coffee. "Keys," he said under his breath.

I pointed to the ignition, where they still hung.  Then I quickly backed away, glad to have him out of my personal space. The back of my legs hit the edge of a folding chair, and I sat in it to calm my nerves.

Snake Man leaned into my window and popped the hood.

His buddies lifted it, and soon the three were fiddling around inside.

I flipped through my phone and found Angry Birds and began playing, hoping they'd hear the music.

One did and glanced up.

I smiled and said, "I'm addicted to this stupid game."

As far as I could tell, Rocco wasn't here. And there was no way these three were going to volunteer any information, especially not about a friend or a corrupt DA. My only option was to at least find out who these guys were. Maybe they were connected to more than this shop. And hopefully that connection would lead to the DA's office.

"What kind of sound do you hear?" asked Snake Man.

I touched the camera app and got them all into focus. "Um, it kinda goes like, click-click-click-sshh." Hopefully my ridiculous rendition of fake car problems derailed them from noticing that the game music no longer played.

As they continued looking for a problem, I switched off my flash, muted the volume, and snapped several photos. It wasn't natural to play a game up near your eyes, so I had to yawn, sneeze, and stretch to get decent shots. I must've looked like a loon.

Finally one of the guys walked to my window and leaned in. The car roared to life. They listened for half a second then turned to me.

I jumped to my feet. The look in all three sets of eyes told me they knew there was nothing wrong with the car. And they knew I was full of shit.

Snake Man walked toward me.

Adrenaline shot through my legs, and I sprinted to my door. It didn't matter that one of the guys still blocked it. I'd push past him or climb through the passenger window if I had to. That may not have been the best or most logical plan, but I knew I needed to get out of here now.

They, of course, had other plans.

Snake Man stood directly in my path. The other two flanked my sides.

"Thank you for looking. Hopefully the sound won't start again. Do I owe you anything?" If they said yes, I'd have to get into my car to get my purse. That would be a plus.

But I was naive to think it would be that simple.

"There's nothing wrong with your car. Why are you really here?" Snake Man hissed.

"I don't know what you're talking about." I attempted to turn away and walk around his thugs, when one grabbed my bicep and yanked me back.

"Hey, get off me," I shouted and slapped him on the shoulder. Like that would've done any good, other than pissing him off more.

But his eyes didn't darken and his jaw didn't clench. In fact, he smiled and laughed, like he enjoyed the pain.

Creepy.

"What do you say we teach the pretty lady a lesson for wasting our time," he said to Snake Man.

I definitely didn't like the sound of that. Why hadn't I held onto my purse when I got out of the car? Then these assholes would be looking down the barrel of my Glock. Needless to say, I felt incredibly vulnerable.

The guy behind me caressed my hair, and I officially freaked. I tried to wiggle out of the first guy's grasp, but it did no good. His grip was too strong. Then I tried stomping on sneaker-clad feet with my heels, but it became a game of Whac-A-Mole, and these guys were winning.

They all laughed and seemed to be egged on by my desperate antics.

I doubted anyone around would come to my aid, but just in case, I screamed.

"Do you really think someone in these parts would save a skinny, white girl?" asked Snake Man with laughter.

His friends joined in. Passersby would've thought this was a regular hootenanny, except I wasn't hooting or nannying, and there wasn't anyone passing.

I jerked free and finally they let go. Unfortunately I hadn't been expecting it and lurched forward. I fell onto the cracked cement, on my hands and knees, and managed to slide forward. My arms buckled beneath me, and my face grazed the ground. My cheek burned, but I didn't have time to care.

I jumped to my feet and scrambled to my car, terrified one of them would grab me again. But no one reached for me. When I got into my seat, rolled up the windows, and locked all doors, I looked up. They were standing in a row, staring at me, arms folded across their chests.

My tires screeched as I backed out of the shop and flew over a speed bump.

Heart racing, my pulse pounded, and the burning sensation on my face intensified. Then my knees started to burn, but I wouldn't slow down until I was far away.

My phone sitting in my lap rang, and I yelped. I snatched it up and didn't glance at the caller ID. "Yeah?"

"Jamie?" It was Danny.

I took a deep breath and tried to sound normal. "Hi."

"What's wrong?"

Obviously my acting sucked. Good thing I never tried to get into that profession.

"Nothing. What's up?" I bit my lip to steady my voice.

"Um, are you still picking me up?"

I glanced at the clock. It said three-ten. Shoot. I was late. "Sorry. I got behind."

"If you're too busy, I can try to find someone else." His tone was tight, like he knew something was wrong.

"No, I'm on my way." I couldn't leave Danny stranded, even if the only thing I wanted right now was a long, hot, luxuriant bubble bath.

"Okay. See you soon."

"Yep." I clicked off the call and headed back to the 101.

*  *  *

When I pulled up to front of the entrance, Danny was waiting outside. He opened the passenger door as I checked out my legs. Both knees were scraped and bloody. Not too bad, but they hurt like hell, and it looked like I was ten and had fallen off my bike. A quick glance in the rearview mirror showed that my chin was scraped too, just as I suspected. I didn't have time to cover it up. Danny would definitely notice.

He settled into his seat and managed to fasten his seatbelt with only half a wince. Improvement. Then he turned to me with a smile.

Which immediately faded.

"What the hell happened to you?"

I pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward his apartment. "What do you mean?" I didn't think playing dumb would work, but it was worth a shot.

"Your face. Were you in a fight with a cheese grater?"

Geeze, I didn't think I looked that bad. "No, I just fell."

"On your face?"

"Yeah." I kept my focus on driving, pretending the traffic was far more interesting than this conversation.

He took a deep breath and said, "Okay, start at the beginning."

I could've lied. I did it all the time with clients and even Derek. But lying to Danny was different. He was my best friend, my buddy, my…who the hell knew.

"I went by this body shop, looking for some information on one of its employees."

"And you tripped over a spare tire?"

"Something like that." He didn't need all the grisly details.

"Which shop?"

"Um, Ventura's. It's over on…"

"Century. Yeah, I've heard of it. There's nothing but criminals and drugs there."

I glanced at him. How did he know that?

"How could you go there on your own? At the very least, why didn't you bring Sam or Caleigh?"

"Sam had to pick up Julio from school, and Caleigh is at her apartment with her father planning your wedding."

That shut him up for a moment. But just a moment. "I thought he was coming next week. Why is he early?"

I shrugged, glad the conversation switched gears. "He wants to interrogate his future son-in-law?"

"Look, you should've waited to go to Ventura's until after you'd picked me up."

Damn, this man had a one-track mind. While the idea that he wanted to protect me was kind of endearing, I hated his belief that I needed protection.

"I'm a big girl. I know how to handle myself. I don't need hand holding."

"Your face says otherwise."

He reached into his duffel bag, pulled something out, then plopped it into my purse.

Some jerkwad ahead of me swerved into the next lane and then back into mine, so I couldn't take my eyes off the road to have a look.

"What the hell is that?" I asked, annoyed at both the driver ahead of me and the passenger beside me.

"A bug."

To hell with the road, my eyes whipped to Danny. "You just put a bug in my purse?!"

"It's so I can keep tabs on you." He held up a walkie-talkie like thing that I knew was the listening end to the intrusive bug he'd just planted on me.

"Seriously? You're baby-monitoring me now?"

"Obviously you need it."

Obviously?

I made a sharp left turn, nearly flinging him into my lap. He groaned as the seatbelt dug into his shoulder. A wee bit of guilt hit me. But just a
wee
bit.

"I know you think you're being helpful, but really, you're not."

Why was it that all men felt they knew best? Or was it just the men in my life?

"This isn't about me. It's about you throwing yourself into dangerous situations. And this isn't the first time." He clenched his jaw, as if he expected to win this argument.

I pulled up to his apartment building and slammed on the brakes. "First off, I'm a licensed PI. Danger comes with the job. Secondly, planting a bug on me isn't going to change that. And third…" I pushed the button on his seatbelt. It whipped across him and snapped into place with a crack. Then I leaned across his lap and pushed open the door. "Get out of my car."

"That's it? You're just throwing me out without discussing this?"

"Oh, but I thought you knew best for me. Obviously there's nothing to discuss, right? What could I possibly have to say about my own life?"

"You're behaving childishly." His calm tone only infuriated me more.

"Out."

As he reached for his duffle, I snatched the walkie-talkie from his grip.

"Hey," he said and reached for it.

I tossed it between my seat and door. "Nope. Now out. I've got dangerous errands to run."

For some reason he didn't fight me. I expected another round. But he stepped out onto the curb and shut my door.

And I sped off.

CHAPTER SEVEN

By time I reached the office I was no longer irritated, but I still needed that bubble bath. There was something about driving with the top down, the wind in my hair that made my blood pressure drop and left me more capable of a conversation without hissing. My knees ached, and I felt like a stiff, old lady, but at least I was in slightly better spirits. My injuries had to wait a little longer though. Business came first.

I pushed the front door open and was greeted by the pungent smell of burnt popcorn. Maya was walking to her desk, a bag of the charred, microwaved stuff in hand. She stopped short and gasped. "What happened to your face?"

I waved away her words as if it wasn't a big deal. "I just fell."

"Where? On a cheese grater?"

Seriously? If she insisted or even suggested I wear a wire next time, those
better spirits
would disintegrate, and I was going to lose it.

Instead she just eyed me suspiciously, and when I didn't answer her or elaborate, she continued around the desk. She knew that if I wanted to share I would. And if I didn't, it was healthy to her employed status not to pry.

I focused on her. The crusts of a sandwich and a can of Diet Coke sat beside her monitor.

"You work too much if you're eating at your desk. Why not get out of here and have lunch with Brandon? The two of you are still seeing each other, right?"

Her face flushed, so I took that as a yes.

Brandon Duke was Maya's ex-fiancé, who then became a client, and now was back where he belonged, by Maya's side, the good guy wearing the white hat. She didn't talk about them as a couple much, but since he'd come back into her life, she smiled more and was peppier in the morning. If that was possible.

To keep her from feeling she needed to answer
my
prying, I changed the subject. "Has Caleigh returned?"

"She's in her office."

"Great." I pulled up the photos I took of Snake Man and his buddies on my phone and set it on Maya's desk. "There are five shots that I took at Ventura's. Three guys. Can you find out who they are?"

Maya pulled my SD card out of my phone and pushed it into the computer slot. She clicked a few buttons, copying them over, then ejected the card. "What else do you need?"

"I want to know what court cases they've been involved in."

She pushed the card back into my phone and handed it over. "Sure thing."

Always so efficient. I never had to worry.

I walked to Caleigh's door and knocked.

"Come in." But the voice wasn't hers.

I stepped inside and saw both of my associates. While Caleigh sat behind her desk, Sam was seated in one of the chairs facing her.

They both shouted, "What happened to your face?"

I needed to remember to keep an extra tube of concealer in my purse. I took the third chair and explained Ventura's.

Lines formed between Sam's brows. "I'm so sorry I left you. If I would have stayed, I could've had your back."

"No, this isn't your fault. I should have waited for backup." Although I'd never admit that to Danny.

I looked to Caleigh. "So how'd it go with your father?"

She rolled her eyes. "That man is so exasperating."

"He seems sweet," Sam said.

Caleigh slapped her hand on her desk. "Let me tell you. He complained that I don't have an automatic ice maker, HBO, or a fireplace. It's L.A. in September, and I have an active social life. I don't need those things. Although an ice maker would be nice."