Unbreakable Bond (7 page)

I took a deep breath. It was now or never.

Aiden looked up as I approached. His brows raised, and a smile tugged at his mouth. He stood and pulled out my chair.

"Play it cool," Danny whispered.

Like there was any other way?

"I’m so glad you called." Aiden widened his smile. The corners around his eyes creased. Under different circumstances, the expression would’ve been endearing. Right now, I wondered how he’d play his cards. I knew why I was here. Why was he?

"I’m glad your busy schedule allowed."

Danny scoffed.

As Aiden helped push in my chair, he received a wide angle view of my cleavage. Luckily I'd tucked the mic far enough down to be out of sight.  There was no sense in wearing something this revealing if I wasn’t going to flaunt it.

He returned to his seat. "I hope this is acceptable. I figured in case you’re hungry. It’s been a long day, and I’m famished."

He planned to feast on stuffed shells or Veal Piccata while interrogating me?

"Your job must be so demanding."

"There’s that sex kitten voice again," Danny muttered under his breath.

I cleared my throat and watched Aiden from beneath my lashes.

"It has its moments," he answered. "And what about you? What does Jamie
Smith
do?"

Was he aware that he'd emphasized my fictitious last name? Was it on purpose? Was he trying to crack me, get a confession right here in the dim candlelight of our table for two?

I parted my lips, tempted to falsify my life with tales of yacht sailing and actual Prince ogling, when the waiter arrived with a glass of Chardonnay for Aiden and a martini for me.

"I hope you don’t mind I ordered just before you arrived," Aiden explained.

"You remembered what I was drinking the other night." His attention to detail was, once again, annoyingly endearing.

And a bad sign of the thoroughness with which he did his job.

"Of course." He flashed a brilliant smile that probably made other women weak at the knees. Good thing I was seated.

The waiter asked, "Are you ready to order?"

"Give us a few, please." Aiden lifted his glass. He waited for the young man to walk off before saying, "Here’s to getting to know one another."

I wrapped my hand around the stem of my glass, allowing the cone-shaped bowl to rest against the side of my palm. A slightly awkward grip, but it was better than leaving my prints on the glass.

His gaze traveled to my glass, aware of my avoidance.  Or maybe I was reading too much into his gaze.

"So tell me about being a criminal attorney," I asked. "It must be immensely satisfying to lock away the bad guys."

He chuckled warmly. I had to admit, it was kind of a nice sound. "Yes, very."

"But it can’t be easy. The burden of proof lies with the ADA, right?"

When he raised his brows, I added, "I watched a lot of
Law & Order
."

"Hollywood is fiction."

"True. So clue me in on the way it actually works." I sipped my drink. The vodka hit my belly and spread throughout my limbs. Now this was a drink.

He leaned back in his chair, never looking away. His posture conveyed confidence. His slicked-back hair conveyed confidence. His smirk conveyed confidence.

God, I wish I had some of that right now.

"What do you want to know?" he asked.

I gently set down the glass and eased into a similar position. "What about the case you mentioned? That judge."

"The one from the Hilton, where we met."

I kept my expression steady as we stared one another down, as if whoever blinked first would qualify as the loser. Luckily this was my favorite sport as a child. I’d never met a person I couldn’t outstare, especially boys.

"Judge Waterston’s killer shouldn’t be too difficult to apprehend," he said slowly, blinking first.

"Oh, why’s that? Did he leave behind a big clue?"

"You can say that."

I almost laughed out loud. Did he think his cockiness was going to make me confess?

"Be careful, James," Danny whispered into my ear.

My friend knew me too well, knew I wanted to prove how very wrong the ADA’s assumptions were, but I continued with my stoic-slash-come-hither game face.

"I'd love to hear about it," I goaded.

"I'm sorry, I can't comment on an open investigation." He punctuated the statement with a wink, as if chalking up one point on his side of the scoreboard.

Fine. I had all night to dance around the judge. And the more sips of his chardonnay he took in the meantime, the easier it would be for me to lead.

"So, what brought you to the benefit the other night?" I asked, smiling sweetly his way.

"It's a cause I believe in strongly."

"Oh?"

He nodded, and for a half a second the confidence in his eyes gave way to something else. "Yes. Someone close to me died of breast cancer last year."

Oh hell. Had the benefit been a cancer awareness thing? I'd honestly never even paid attention.

"I’m sorry," I said, meaning it as I remembered what Maya had told me about his wife. Bringing up a personal death was a dirty trick. One I almost wanted him to know I hadn't played on purpose.

He looked down into his glass, swirling the few remaining inches in a circle to avoid looking at me. "It’s fine. You didn’t know."

I cringed.

"It's always hard to lose someone," I said. Which sounded like a hollow Hallmark sentiment even to my ears.

"It was my wife," he said, still not looking up.

Why he was telling me, I didn't know. Maybe some irrational need to open up. Maybe a ploy to get me to open up to him?  

I feigned surprise and laid a hand on my chest, careful to avoid the camera. "That’s horrible."

"It was, but we move on," he said, pasting a smile on his face that said he was doing just that with this conversation. "What about you? Have you ever been married?"

"God, no."

"And I’ll assume, since we’re sitting here, that you’re not involved?"

"I’m single," I assured him.

"Good to know."

"I bet," Danny whispered.

"What do you do for fun, Jamie? How do you spend your nights?"

Was this his round-about way of asking for my alibi when the judge was murdered?

"I’m a people watcher," I replied honestly.

Danny snorted in my ear.

"I hang out with friends, have a few drinks, get a bite. The usual," I clarified.

"Do you have family in the area?"

I filed the thought of Derek into a locked safe and forgot the combination. "We’re not close."

"What did you do after the benefit?"

Ah, direct. I glanced to my martini, wishing to down it in one gulp. I refrained however. "I went home. Straight to bed."

He smirked. "Let me guess. Red silk sheets?"

Danny continued his pig sounds.

I laughed, not expecting the question. "Six-hundred thread count Egyptian cotton."

"Nothing less than the best."

"Well, I have my eye on a set of fifteen-hundred count, but a girl’s gotta eat. Is this where I ask, boxers or briefs?"

He chuckled in response. "Only if I get to ask the same."

Then he winked, and I couldn't help picturing his toned, tanned body above a pair of Calvin Kleins. It wasn't an unpleasant image.

"So, were you alone?" His smile was playful, but I was an expert at reading between the lines.
Do you have an alibi?

"Oh, Aiden, a girl has to have some secrets." My turn to give the seductive wink. Score one for Jamie's side.

"Hmm." he said, sitting back in his chair.

But before he could pursue that thought, the server arrived to take our order. Aiden went with an appetizer of calamari. Even though the last thing that had touched my lips was the pastrami sandwich with Danny, food was light years from my mind. But, considering I was quickly draining my martini, I ordered a plate of bruschetta anyway. As soon as the man walked away, I turned my attention back to my prey.

"So, my turn to pry," I said, shooting Aiden my best flirtatious smile as I leaned my elbows on the table. "The judge that was killed. Did you know him?"

Aiden cocked his head to the side. "Why do you ask?"

I shrugged. "You both run in judicial circles. I thought maybe you've bumped into each other before at social events. Maybe he and his wife?"

Aiden paused, eyes scrutinizing me, wondering, I could tell, how much to give up. "I'd met him once or twice."

"What was he like?"

"Judicial."

"And his wife?"

"Sorry, we weren't that close," he said, cutting off that line of questioning. 

"I saw something on the news," I said, flirting with dangerous territory. "Something about video footage from the night the judge died?"

"Careful, Bond," I heard Danny whisper in my ear.

While I appreciated the concern, careful was getting me nowhere. I was on borrowed time, I knew. How long before Aiden tired of the flirtation-slash-interrogation game and pulled out the handcuffs?

I watched him carefully as he answered. "Yes. I saw that, too."

"So, it's true? You have video of the judge from that night?"

"We do."

"Where did it come from?"

"Bond..." Danny warned in my ear. "You're treading on thin ice."

But I ignored him, watching the muscles in Aiden's jaw move as he decided just how to answer that question.

"Where it came from isn't as important as what's on it," he said.

"Huh," I answered, sitting back in my seat. "Odd."

"What's odd?" Aiden asked, taking my bait.

"Well, it's just that..." I paused, giving him my most innocent smile. "On
Law & Order
they always considered the source of the evidence as the main factor in how valid it was."

Aiden sat back, giving me a perfect poker face. "Are you saying the footage we have may be faked?"

I shrugged. "I'm saying things aren't always what they appear to be."

He gave me a long look that was completely unreadable. Then just when the silence was starting to make me sweat, said, "Channel Four."

"Excuse me?"

"The footage was sent to a local news station. Channel Four. They forwarded it on to us just before it aired."

Bingo.

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I had the chance, Danny piped up in my ear again.

"I got bad news, Bond," he shouted. "A couple of squad cars just pulled up. You need to get out of there. Now!"

CHAPTER EIGHT

_____

I froze. It was all I could do to keep the smile pasted on my face as my body launched into fight or flight mode. Mostly flight.

"I need to use the restroom," I said, forcing myself to rise slowly from the table, despite instant panic urging me on. "Excuse me."

"I’ll meet you at the side," Danny said, his voice mirroring my panic.

My hip knocked into the table, jostling the dinnerware. A butter knife slid off, and I caught it midway to the floor. I tossed it beside the bread plate and half-walked, half-sprinted to the foyer.

Once around the corner, I dropped the walking bit and just sprinted to the restrooms.

I would’ve preferred using the delivery doors, but accessing the kitchen from the dining room would’ve made Aiden suspicious. So I settled for Plan B. The ladies’ room window. Danny and I had cased all outside exits before he dropped me off. This one was our best bet.

I tugged on the restroom door handle. It didn’t budge.

Shit. Occupied.

I glanced to a second door beside the restroom. The men’s room. I hadn't actually checked it out, but it stood to reason there was a window in there, too. But as I reached for the handle, the Maitre ‘d appeared in the hallway, wearing a scowl.

"May I help you?"

"No, thank you."

He stood firm, his grimace unwavering.

"I need to use the restroom," I whispered. I didn’t need to fake the urgency in my voice.

"That is the men’s room, Madame."

A scream, somewhere deep in my core, spiraled toward my throat. I was running out of time. It was all I could do to not push the old guy aside.

"I’m aware, but I really need to go."

I glanced at the front doors, expecting to see two uniformed officers with their guns aimed at my pretty head. It was clear but wouldn’t be for long.

I grabbed the handle and pushed, but the door didn't budge.  Occupied.

Something inside me fell, passed my other organs and landed at my Achilles heel. If I did the potty dance, could I convince this guy to let me use a back bathroom?

Unlikely.

Just then a stout woman in a royal blue, chiffon dress stepped out of the ladies’ room.

A huge sigh escaped my mouth, and I almost threw my arms around her in a fierce hug. Instead I tossed a smirk over my shoulder to the Maitre d’ and hurried inside.

I choked on a cloud of cheap perfume and breathed through my mouth. Not bothering to latch the door, I ran to the window. The frosted glass pane lifted with ease, and I used the trash can to hoist myself up.

Danny’s van idled in the alley. He leaned out the driver’s side window. "Hurry."

As if I was moving slow on purpose.

Legs over the ledge, I shimmied my torso forward. My dress caught on the sill, but I didn’t care, didn’t want to take the time to gingerly untangle the fabric, didn’t want to add silver handcuffs to my accessories. I jumped and only hoped the ripping sound wouldn’t leave my ass exposed.

As my feet touched the asphalt, one heel snapped, and I fell onto hands and knees. Scraped and bloodied, I hopped up with the grace of a drunken alley cat.

I waddled around the front of the van, temporarily blinded by the headlights, and scrambled into the passenger seat.

"That was close." Danny spun the vehicle away from the restaurant, turning left at the end of the alley.

To my right, I could see red and blue lights flashing against the front signage of the restaurant. I felt that panic slowly melting into relief as I pictured the look on Aiden’s mouth, when he realized I’d escaped.