Against the Night

“Wait a minute!” She shot up off the bed, felt a jolt of pain in her head and sank back down. “You don’t think this changes anything? I’m finding my sister, Johnnie. I’m not letting some weirdo like Kyle Bennett keep that from happening.”

“Listen to me, Amy. You’re in way over your head with this. What happened today should have shown you that.”

She bit her lip. “Maybe Bennett killed her. Maybe he drugged her and something went wrong. Maybe she died and he had to get rid of her body.” Imagining her sister dead, she felt a sweep of pain mixed with anger. Amy steeled herself against it. “It’s possible, isn’t it?”

“Anything’s possible. Look, I’ve got a friend in the homicide department, Detective Vega. I’m hoping he’ll let me take a look at your sister’s missing persons file. I’ll find out what the police know about Bennett’s involvement with Rachael, and find out who else they might be looking at in regard to her disappearance.”

She nodded, careful not to move too fast. “All right, that sounds like a good idea.”

“I probably shouldn’t encourage you, but if it makes you feel better, you got a name from Bennett before you passed out.”

“I did?”

“Kenny Reason. He’s a disc jockey over at Rembrandt’s.”

“Rembrandt’s? I don’t think I’ve heard of it.”

“It’s a nightclub, not a strip joint, fairly upscale clientele. Bennett said your sister dated Kenny for a while.”

“She must not have mentioned it to Babs. Maybe Mr. Reason will know something that will help.”

“Maybe.” Johnnie glanced down at his watch. “It’s getting late. If you’re feeling well enough, I’ll take you home. If you’d rather, you can spend the night in my guest room.”

Amy shook her head. “I need to go home.”

Johnnie didn’t argue. This was one time sex didn’t seem to be on either of their minds. Spotting her purse on the dresser, she rose carefully from the bed, walked over and picked it up. “Whenever you’re ready.” She slung the purse strap over her shoulder. “I really appreciate what you did today. There’s no way I can ever thank you enough.”

A hot gleam appeared in his eyes. “Our business isn’t finished. The next time you’re in my bed, honey, I promise you won’t be sleeping.”

Eight

Johnnie called Rick Vega first thing Friday morning and the detective agreed to meet him at the station. As she had the day before, Gwen Michaels sat behind the front desk. When she spotted Johnnie walking toward her, she smiled.

“Vega is expecting you,” Gwen said. “You know where to find him.”

“Thanks, Gwen.” Heading down the hall, he waved to a couple of beat cops he knew, turned the corner and pushed through the doors of the detective bureau. The place was well lit, lined with rows of desks, each with its own computer, and always humming with activity as cops came and went. Rick motioned him over and Johnnie sauntered in his friend’s direction, then sat down in the chair beside the desk.

“Heard you were in here looking for me yesterday. I meant to call, but things got crazy.” Vega was handsome as sin, about the same height as Johnnie, with gleaming black hair slicked back from his face and smooth dark skin, a bachelor who spent too much of his paycheck on the perfectly tailored suits he liked to wear.

“Not a problem.”

“Must be important if you’re back again today.”

“I need a favor, Rick.”

Vega scoffed. “So what’s new?”

Before he’d been promoted to detective in the homicide division, Rick had been his sister Katie’s partner, which was how he and Rick had become such good friends.

“I need to take a look at a file. Girl reported missing a little over six weeks ago. Name’s Rachael Brewer. She worked over at the Kitty Cat Club.”

Vega frowned. “Brewer…Brewer…that name sounds familiar.”

“At the club, she used the name Silky Summers,” Johnnie added.

Rick shoved up from his chair and walked over to speak to Mitch, a balding older guy, who after a departmental shake-up had just been reassigned as Vega’s new partner. Mitch said something and Rick headed back to his desk, his strides long and confident, not a wrinkle in his perfectly pressed navy blue suit.

Nine

On the way back to the club, Amy wandered along Sunset into a couple of trendy dress shops. The boutiques were designed for young women, the prices on the top edge of affordable. The clothes—lots of black leather and lace, short skirts and plenty of bare skin—were hardly her style, but it was fun to look.

A hot little number caught her eye. At home, she would have been embarrassed for anyone to catch her admiring it, but this was California. She was a different person here, freer, more open to new ideas. Eventually, she would go back to being the simple, conservative young woman she was before, but for now, for this one brief moment in time, she was Angel Fontaine and she could do anything she pleased.

She went home with the sexy black outfit tucked in a Mitzy’s Boutique shopping bag, wondering if she would ever wear it.

As she walked back into the club, she spotted Johnnie sitting at the bar, his intense gaze finding her all the way across the room. He looked dark and rugged and amazingly handsome, and her stomach lifted alarmingly.

This early in the afternoon, the club was mostly empty. It got busier as the sun went down. The Sunset Strip came alive at night.

Johnnie stood up as she approached and she felt a little dizzy at the sight of all that masculinity so nicely packaged in black jeans and a T-shirt.

Johnnie grinned. “Hey, Goldilocks.”

She had almost forgotten her hair, forgotten that too much gel had turned her long, sleek strands into a riot of curls. She reached up and touched it, made a face at the springy texture.

“It’ll wash out,” she said glumly.

“I thought maybe you were going to change your act, bring in a couple of guys in bear suits.”

“Very funny.” She managed to climb up on a bar stool, though being so short, it wasn’t easy. Johnny sat back down on the stool next to hers.

“How you feeling?”

“Normal again. Better than I should be feeling…considering.” She looked across at Dante, who mopped the top of the bar in front of her with a clean white towel. “I could really use a Diet Coke…if you wouldn’t mind.”

“You got it, Angel.” The handsome Latino grinned, then turned to Johnnie. “You wanna beer or something?”

“No thanks, I’m working.”

Amy sighed. “So was I. That’s what happened to my hair.”

Johnnie reached out and slid a hand into her bouncy blond locks. “This, I gotta hear.”

But Amy didn’t reply. Transfixed by the feel of his fingers slipping through the heavy curls, she just sat there like a cat being stroked and wanting to purr. She felt his eyes on her, intense now, sensing her interest, the heat beginning to build between them. She wanted this man. Maybe it was time to do something about it. Maybe she should—

Dante set an icy glass of diet soda in front of her and walked away, and Johnnie’s hand slid free of her hair.

Amy swallowed. “I…ummm…went to see Rachael’s hairdresser. I wanted to see if maybe she’d heard some gossip or something that might help us. Getting my hair done was the only excuse I could think of to talk to her. The curls were her idea.”

Johnnie chuckled. “Do any good?”

“Sherry—that’s the stylist—said that Rachael was seeing a couple of different guys. One of them was named Ken. I figured Kenny Reason. The other man’s name was Danny.”

“Danny. No reference to a Danny in the police reports.”

“You saw them?”

He nodded. “My sister, Katie, was a cop before she died. Her former partner is a friend of mine.”

“You have…had a sister?”

He nodded. “She was killed during a bank robbery. She was a really great kid.”

She reached over and caught his hand. “Oh, Johnnie, I’m so sorry.” He ran his thumb over the back of her hand and a little tremor went through her.

“Katie always wanted to be a cop,” he said. “She was doing the job she loved, but she was way too young to die. She deserved to have more time.”

She let go of his hand, though she didn’t really want to. “Your sister is gone and now so is mine. It isn’t fair.”

“There’s still hope we’ll find Rachael.”

She took heart at that, managed to smile. “Yes, there is.”

“Because of what happened to Katie, I get to call in a favor now and then. I got a look at Rachael’s file and I talked to Lieutenant Meeks. She pretty much hates you, by the way.”

Amy laughed. “I know I’ve been a nuisance. I figured the squeaky wheel and all that.”

“Doesn’t always work.”

She took a sip of Diet Coke. “So what did Lieutenant Meeks tell you?”

“Not much. Mentioned a real estate agent named Peter Brand, but according to the report, he came up clean.”

“Nothing else?”

He shook his head. “Unfortunately, I’m not exactly on the lieutenant’s favorite persons list, either.” At her inquisitive look, he held up a hand. “Don’t ask.”

Amy smiled. “You mean she didn’t fall prey to all that Johnnie Riggs charm?”

He flashed a crooked grin. “You think I’m charming?”

“Maybe. I think you can be very sweet at times, even if you won’t admit it.”

“Sweet! You think I’m sweet?”

She laughed. “You were sweet last night. You came to my rescue. You took care of me when I was sick. If it hadn’t been for you, I would have been in serious trouble.”

“I’m not sweet. How do you know I didn’t ravish you when you were at my mercy?”

Her smile returned. “I don’t think that’s your style.”

Johnnie reached out and touched her cheek, just a featherlight brush of his fingers, yet goose bumps rose beneath her skin.

“You’re right,” he said. “I want you wide-awake when I take you. I want you to know exactly what I’m doing to you.”

Amy couldn’t breathe.

He reached up and playfully tugged on one of her curls. “In the meantime, no more detective work, okay?”

The curls bobbed as she firmly shook her head. “I’m not quitting. No way, no how.”

Hearing his own words played back to him, Johnnie smiled.

“In the past two days,” Amy continued, “I’ve found out more than I have in the past two weeks. I need to talk to Kenny Reason, and I need to find out who this Danny person is.”

“I’ll talk to Reason, see what he has to say.”

“I want to go with you. He might say something that clicks with me, or I might think of something to ask him you wouldn’t.”

When he started shaking his head, she caught his arm. “You said Rembrandt’s was a nightclub, an upscale place. If I’m with you, I won’t be in any danger.”

“I don’t like it, Am—Angel.”

“You said you’d help me.”

“I’m doing my damnedest, honey.”

“Please, Johnnie. I’ve got to do this. I owe it to Rachael.” She looked up at him, trying to work her womanly wiles the way the other girls did. “Please…”

He sat there for several long moments, then gave up a sigh of defeat. “All right, damn it, you can go. But we need to keep moving on this. Can you get off early tonight?”

One of the girls had called in sick, so she was working a split shift. “I’m off at ten.” She had to be back by midnight, but she didn’t want him to have an excuse not to take her.

“All right, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go to Rembrandt’s. Until then, try to stay out of trouble.”

The afternoon was slipping away. Johnnie had a half dozen calls to make on cases he’d been working and paperwork to do back at his home office. Instead he sat next to Amy at the Kitty Cat bar.

“Listen, I need to talk to Honeybee. You know where I can find her?” He told himself he was still working, even if he wasn’t getting paid for it.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.