The Hill (12 page)

“You could say that.”

“It should be painless.”

“Tux required?”

“Naturally.”

He shook his head. “Never had to wear a tux for the pop princess.”

They spent dinner covering dangerous ground again—sharing stories, feelings and more than a few laughs. He kept telling himself that London needed this break, that keeping her stress level down made his job easier.

That was what he told himself.

They finished dinner and on the sidewalk Judd handed London the helmet and grabbed his handlebars.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned the bike back on its kickstand. “I have a call coming in.”

London clamped the helmet between her arm and body. “Take it.”

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and glanced at the display. “Unknown number. Hello?”

“Is this Judd Brody?”

“Yeah. Who's this?”

“Not important.”

“I'd say it is, since you called me.”

London tapped him on the arm, and he looked at her and shrugged.

“I have some information. Are you interested or not?”

“What kind of information?”

London kept tugging on his sleeve and he held a finger to his lips even though she hadn't said a word. Then he punched the speaker button for her.

“I'm not gonna say too much over the phone. I have the goods on how it all started.”

London folded her arms around the helmet and hugged it to her chest while mouthing words he couldn't understand.

“How what all started? If this is legit, just tell me.”

“Oh, it's legit, but I'm not staying on this phone long enough to give you the whole story. I'll meet you after that party tomorrow night, in the alley behind the symphony hall at midnight.”

London sucked in a quick breath.

“How do you know about that?” Judd gripped the phone, his knuckles turning white.

“Stop asking so many questions and just be there...be there if you wanna find out what happened to Joey Brody.”

 

Chapter Eleven

The line went dead and Judd stood on the curb staring at the phone.

London snatched it out of his hand and hit the redial button. The phone rang, but nobody picked it up.

He'd recovered from his stupor and shook his head back and forth, his shaggy hair brushing the collar of his leather jacket. “What the hell is going on?”

She pushed Redial again, her heart beating double-time. “It sounds to me as if the pieces are coming together.”

“If someone wants to start passing on info about my father, that person would be better off giving it to my brother Sean. He's the cop. He spent most of his adult life trying to figure out what happened.”

She disconnected the call again. “Sean's not working with me.”

“What does that mean?” He grabbed the handlebars of his bike and kicked up the stand.

“My mystery, your mystery—they're linked. You have to see that now, Judd. Someone left that newspaper clipping about my father on your bike, not mine.” She stuffed the helmet on her head and grabbed the straps with both hands. “Why now? Why you? I'll answer your questions. Now because your father has been cleared of the suspicions around him, and you because you're helping me.”

“Hop on, and redial that number once more before I start the engine. We can try it again at the next light.” He shoved the keys in the bike's ignition.

She punched the button again and the phone rang three times. Then a woman answered it.

“Who's this keeps calling? Jonny, baby. Is that you?”

London asked, “Who's this?”

“You called this phone. I ain't sayin' squat.”

“Wait, wait. Someone called me from this phone. I'm just trying to figure out who it was. Is this your phone?”

“This is a pay phone, bitch, on one of my corners. You tryin' to shake your moneymaker in my territory?”

London choked. “Absolutely not, girlfriend. Some skank called my man from this phone, and I wanna know who it is.”

The woman laughed. “Bitch, this is a working girls' corner, so if someone's calling your man from this phone, he's gettin' a little something-something on the side.”

London screamed, “Where is it? Where is this corner?”

“It's at Sixteenth and Folsom in the Mission District, baby. And you can tell that skank Daisy sent you.”

“Thanks, Daisy.” London ended the call. “Did you hear all that?”

Judd twisted around in his seat with raised eyebrows and an open mouth. “Maybe you
would
make a good CEO after all.”

Daisy's corner was a few miles south of them, and after convincing Judd he didn't need to take her home first, they rolled down Folsom Street, crossing underneath the freeway. The Mission didn't lack for nightlife, and a mixture of transients, hookers, partiers and clueless tourists milled around the streets.

When they idled at a red light, she tapped on Judd's shoulder and yelled in his ear, “It must be in that gas station.”

He nodded once and when the light changed, he veered into the right lane and turned into the station.

A few ladies of the night gave Judd the once-over, watching him dismount from the bike. When London slid from the seat, took off the helmet and shook out her hair, the streetwalkers dispersed, on the prowl for likelier johns.

Judd ambled toward the phone booth, its glass scarred and cracked. “This must be it.”

She held up her finger. “Hang on. I'm going to do a redial of the number to make sure.”

He rested his hand on the receiver while she pressed the redial button on his cell phone. The shrill ring from the phone booth startled her, even though she was expecting it.

Judd picked up the receiver and spoke into the mouthpiece. “I'm amazed this thing still works.”

“Well, it does, and this is the phone he used to call you. Turns out Daisy's no liar.”

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Judd turned outward, facing the rest of the gas station and the street. “We verified the phone, but the caller didn't hang around to see if I could trace it.”

“We could ask in there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the cashier's window.

“The clerk's sitting behind bulletproof glass. I doubt he's going to give us anything.”

“You're a P.I. You haven't greased a few palms in your day?”

He rolled his eyes. “If I did, I'm sure I didn't call it
greasing palms.
”

“Oh, do they only say that in the movies?”

“Pretty much.”

Judd hunched toward the window and rapped on the glass with one knuckle.

The clerk turned away from the TV he'd been glued to and drew his bushy brows over his nose. “What do you want? I know you're not buying gas.”

“I could.” Judd tipped his chin toward the pay phone. “Who have you seen use that phone in the past half hour?”

“Nobody.” The cashier turned back to the fight on TV.

Before London could reach for her purse, Judd dragged a bill from the front pocket of his jeans, wadded it up and rolled it into the tray beneath the window. “Past half hour? The man before the hooker answered the phone.”

“There's no hooking around here.” The cashier snatched up the bill.

“Of course not.” Judd dug into his pocket again. “The man before that sweet girl was on the phone with her pastor?”

This time the man turned to face them. When he reached for the second bill in the cash tray, Judd plucked it away.

The cashier scratched his black stubble. “I might've seen a guy on the phone earlier. White guy, baseball cap. He might've even come up here to buy some smokes.”

Judd dipped into his pocket again, and crumpled the money in his fist, which he rested on the metal ledge of the cashier's window. “Smoker, huh?”

“Ten gallons on number two!” a man yelled from the pumps.

The cashier flipped a couple of switches and returned his focus to Judd's face. “He was a hard-looking dude, prison tats on his neck, nose broken a few times. I'd guess ex-con. Middle-aged, around forty. Can't tell you much else. He was wearing sunglasses—at night—and he had that cap low on his face. Clean shaven. And I never told you nothin'.”

“Nothing at all.” Judd flicked the rolled-up bill into the tray and slipped a twenty in after. “And give me twenty bucks on number four.”

London grabbed his arm as he strode back to his bike. “Ex-con. Do you believe him?”

“I believe the cashier thinks the man was an ex-con. Whether he was or not is another issue.”

“But we're meeting him tomorrow, right?”

“We?”

“It's my function, it's my case and you're working for me.”

“Ouch.” He picked up the nozzle, squeezed a few times and replaced it in the pump. “I was wondering when you were going to play that card.”

“What card?” She folded her arms, knowing damn well what card. “There is no card. I want in on this information. It's all part of the same investigation.”

He climbed on the bike and tilted it for her to straddle the back. “You're getting kind of carried away with this P.I. stuff, aren't you? You're supposed to be a CEO. CEOs don't zoom around on Harleys meeting ex-cons.”

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she slipped her hands beneath his T-shirt and dug her nails into his flat belly. “Now who's playing a card?”

“What card?” He tensed the muscles in his stomach so that it felt as though her nails were scraping granite.

“The CEO card. Do you think you can stop me from doing something by pointing out it's not something a CEO would do?”

He laughed and started his engine. “Thought it was worth a try.”

“You know, I can always hire another P.I.—one who appreciates my efforts.”

“No other P.I. can give you what I can give you. Now, can you get your claws out of me?”

She flattened her hands and rubbed her palms against the rigid muscles of his belly. Then he took off and she flew against the backrest.

The rumble of the Harley's engine didn't allow for any more conversation, but when it became clear Judd was heading back to Nob Hill and not his place, she shouted in his ear at the next stop sign, “Are you going to get your stuff?”

“Tomorrow.” He revved the engine and continued.

Did that mean he wasn't going to spend the night in the empty unit? If so, she'd have to convince him otherwise. She needed him tonight, needed him close. The two of them were on the verge of a big discovery, one that involved both of their families.

On the next downhill, she fitted her body against his, resting her helmeted head against his back. For a fleeting second, she wished all the turmoil would just go away and she could ride off with Judd into the sunset.

Her lips curved into a smile. Where would they be without the turmoil? He craved it as much as she did. Judd Brody was an adrenaline junkie through and through.

When Judd pulled up to her building, she held her breath. Would he come up?

He cut the engine and twisted around in his seat. “Where can I park this thing for the night?”

She released a long breath, fogging up the visor. She flipped it up. “Let me off and I'll enter the code for the garage. You can park it next to my car.”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

“Of course. You can stay on my couch again tonight until we get things set up next door.”

He steadied the bike for her and she climbed off. Removing the helmet, she approached the keypad for the garage door and entered the code.

The gate slid open and Judd rolled his bike down the driveway.

She waved him toward the parking space behind hers and he wheeled the bike into place.

When he got off, he pointed to her Mini. “You're kidding me. That's what you drive?”

“You know how it is driving in this city. Isn't that why you ride a Harley?”

“One of many reasons.”

He stroked the handlebars of the bike, and she shivered. Oh, to be caressed by those hands like that.

He smacked his hand against the seat and she jumped. “Are we going up or are we just going to stand around an exhaust-filled garage admiring my bike?”

When they got to her door, he held up the key to the other unit, swinging it around his finger. “I'm going to do a sweep of the place next door. Do you have a big garbage bag? I'll at least get rid of some more of that junk and that pillow.”

She gave him a plastic bag. When he left, she rummaged through the cabinet in the master bath for a new toothbrush. She also folded a blanket on the edge of the couch and added the pillow he'd used the other night.

Before she dropped the pillow on the couch she buried her face in it, breathing in Judd's scent. She'd dated too many guys who went heavy on the cologne. Judd had a different essence—natural, manly. Even the smell of him made her feel safe and protected.

She unzipped her boots and pulled off her socks. She stopped short of changing into pajamas. How obvious did she want to make this seduction? Of course, there were pajamas and then there were
pajamas.
She could slip into some baggy flannels. The silk and lace would act as a sledgehammer.

The key scraped in her lock and Judd charged through her front door. He kicked it closed behind him, and before she could say one word or catch her breath, his long stride ate up the distance between them and he pulled her into his arms.

He cupped her chin with his large hand and took possession of her lips. While devouring her, he wrapped one arm around her waist and yanked her close. He fitted his pelvis against hers and she felt his erection through his jeans, her jeans and the haze of desire that had engulfed her.

He pulled away and she blinked, touching her throbbing bottom lip with her fingertips.

“What just happened?”

“Do you want this, London? Do you want me?”

If he had to ask, she hadn't been as obvious as she imagined. She couldn't even form one word. She nodded and squeaked.

“I'll take that as a yes.” This time he took her face in both of his hands and got serious. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, and his kisses were as spicy as the curry they'd just consumed.

She undulated against his erection and he dropped his hands to her derriere and squeezed.

He growled. “Uh, can you hold off on that right now?”

She pressed her lips against his jaw instead and whispered, “What happened over there?”

“Over there?” He stroked one hand down her back and she felt as treasured as his Harley.

“Next door. Were you peering through the peephole and witnessed me taking off my shoes and socks and got turned on?”

His laugh turned into a growl. “I've been turned on since the minute you ripped your dress off in the alley.”

Her tongue darted into his ear. “I only ripped off the bottom of my dress, and did it really take you that long?”

“Long? That was the first time I saw you.”

“How soon they forget.” She planted her hands against his rock-hard chest and grabbed handfuls of his T-shirt. “I've been turned on since the moment I saw you across the room at the hotel that night, and when I bumped into you.”

“You bumped into me?”

“I guess I wasn't that memorable.”

He snapped his fingers. “That was you. The cold blonde awash in sparkles. Untouchable.”

She pulled her sweater over her head and unhooked her bra. Then she took his hands and placed them over her bare breasts. “Clearly, that's not the case.”

His spiky dark lashes dropped over his eyes as he cupped her breasts and brushed his thumbs across her nipples. He hissed through his teeth. “So soft and warm for an ice princess.”

She dragged her fingernails along the ink on his arm. “So sensitive and protective for a badass biker.”

His eyelids flew open and he tugged at the buttons of her jeans. When they gaped open at her hips, he yanked them down to her thighs and she stepped back to peel them off.