Читать книгу The Hill - Carol Ericson - Страница 9
ОглавлениеLocked in a stall in the men’s room, Judd slipped the velvet pouch crammed with jewels into the inside pocket of his dinner jacket. He patted his .45 tucked into the shoulder holster on the other side.
He had no idea where Bunny Harris would wind up with that gigolo she’d picked up tonight, but at least her jewelry wouldn’t be with her.
He shoved out of the stall and nodded at the man washing his hands at the vanity, who’d caught his eye in the mirror. The dude had been talking to London Breck earlier—probably a relative. As far as he knew, the richest woman in the city didn’t have a husband or even a boyfriend. The tabloids linked her with a new man every other month...not that he followed the tabloids except for business.
The man at the sink and London had the same look—blond, Nordic, cold. Although London was a beautiful girl, she wasn’t his type, even with all those dollar signs after her name.
Judd washed his hands, accepted a warm towel from the attendant and slipped a five in his basket. He turned toward the door.
“Care for a spritz?”
Judd stumbled to a stop and glanced over his shoulder at the mirror.
The Breck relative held up a bottle of cologne, aiming it at him. “It’s a good scent...manly.”
“That’s okay.” Judd held up his hands. “I’m good.”
He heard the hiss of the spray bottle behind him as he dodged through the bathroom door. Rich people.
Checking his watch, he jogged down the escalator. Bunny had told him she’d send her car back for him at the side entrance to the hotel. He waved to the hotel clerk and gave a fist bump to one of the bellhops.
“Later, man.”
He took the steps down to the side door two at a time and pushed through to the alley. Darkness enveloped him as his shoes crunched broken glass. He tilted back his head to look at the lights on the outside of the hotel, which had been smashed.
His head jerked up at the sound of scuffling down the alley, and he noticed a car parked at the end, blocking the entrance to the street, contributing to the darkness.
He plucked a small but powerful flashlight from his pocket and aimed it in the direction of the noise.
A man wearing a ski mask looked up from the woman he was dragging behind him by the throat.
“Hey!” Judd sprinted toward the scene.
The man dropped his victim and rushed to the waiting car at the end of the alley. Tires squealed and the car peeled out before Judd could reach it. He flicked his light at the retreating vehicle, but someone had removed the back license plate.
A woman coughed behind him and he spun around and strode back to her. The sparkly material of her gown was twisted around her legs and she couldn’t stand. He scooped her up and set her on her impossibly high heels. No wonder she couldn’t run away from her assailant.
She brushed strands of blond hair from her face. That silvery hair seemed to be the only source of light in the alley—that and the sparkles on her black dress and at her throat.
She coughed again, swore like a sailor and spit onto the concrete. “My God, if he wanted the necklace, why didn’t he just ask?”
Judd found himself looking into the perfect face of London Breck, a little disheveled and mad as hell, but those qualities only seemed to enhance her beauty.
Her eyes widened and sparkled, matching the diamonds around her neck in brilliance. “You!”
“What the hell are you doing out here in the alley?” He bent over and swept her handbag from the ground. Odd the thief hadn’t snatched that.
She grabbed it from him and folded her arms over her body. “Waiting for my driver. You?”
“Waiting for Bunny Harris’s driver.”
She swayed toward him and he caught her before she toppled over. She smelled...expensive, except for the odor of leather coming from her jacket. Who wore a jacket like that with a haute couture evening dress?
“Whoa.” He pointed to her feet. “If you hope to stand upright on your own, you’d better straighten out that dress.”
“I hate long dresses.” She leaned forward and placed her hands on either side of a hole in her dress below her knees and pulled it apart.
The bottom part of her dress, which seemed to be made of different material from the top, ripped off, and she dropped the silky material, which probably cost more than his motorcycle, into a puddle in the alley.
“There.” She thrust out her hand. “London Breck. Thanks for saving me from whatever that was.”
“Judd Brody.” He clasped her long, slim fingers in his hand, but if he expected a limp, girly handshake from her, he was wrong. She gave his hand a firm squeeze and dropped it.
“That was a robbery, wasn’t it?” His gaze shifted to the bright bauble stuck on her right ring finger and the diamond bracelet now peeking from the cuff of the jacket.
She trailed her fingers across her throat. “At first I thought he wanted my necklace, but he was using it to choke me and drag me. He was pulling me to that waiting car.”
“A kidnapping?” He lifted one eyebrow. “I suppose you’re worth a few bucks.”
She snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that. My cousin wouldn’t pay one dime for my release, and I’m sure my board of directors would be happy to get rid of me.”
A black limo pulled into the alley, bathing it in bright light. Judd cupped a hand over his eyes and squinted.
The car door swung open and a massive figure rolled from the car. “Miss Breck? Are you all right? I’m sorry I’m late. I had a little mishap on the way over.”
She waved. “I’m fine, Theodore. Mr. Brody here rescued me from a would-be robber.”
“What?” Theodore waddled toward them. “I told you not to be waiting in this alley.”
“I expected you to be right here to whisk me away.” She patted the big man’s arm. “Not that I blame you, Theodore. Sh—stuff happens.”
Theodore grabbed Judd’s hand and shook his arm as if he wanted to yank it off. “Thank you, sir.”
Another limo pulled into the alley and honked.
“Now, who is that?” Theodore tugged his cap over his eyes to shield out his headlights.
“I believe that’s Ms. Harris’s driver for me.” Judd straightened his jacket and patted the hidden jewels.
Theodore tilted his head at him. “You one of Bunny’s young men?”
London coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth. As long as Theodore had been working for the upper crust of the city, he’d never learned to filter his speech. She liked that.
“God, no. I’m working for her tonight...as a bodyguard.”
“Can I buy you a drink?” London sniffed and ran her hand beneath her nose. “It’s the least I can do. Theodore can take us.”
“That I can,” her driver added.
A drink with the rich and beautiful London Breck? Why not? Another way to make his older brothers jealous.
“Sure.”
“I’ll go tell Bunny’s driver. I know him.” Theodore turned and made his way down the alley, momentarily blocking out the headlights and casting him into darkness again with London.
She suddenly looked vulnerable with her silvery-blond hair half-down on one side and her ripped couture dress.
Judd tapped his neck. “Are you okay?”
“Throat’s a little rough, but I’ll live.”
“Do you want to report it to the cops?”
“Did you get a license plate or a good look at the driver or my attacker?”
“The car didn’t have a license plate and the driver was wearing a ski mask just like your assailant’s, except for the white zigzag down the front.”
“Then, no. I don’t need the publicity.”
Theodore shifted his formidable presence to the side and the headlights lit up the alley again. The beams picked up London’s sparkles—her hair, her jewels, her dress—and she blazed to life. How had he ever imagined this woman had one vulnerable bone in her body?
“You get a lot of that, don’t you? Publicity, I mean.”
Spreading her hands, she shrugged. “Comes with the territory.”
Theodore called from behind her, “I sent Mrs. Harris’s driver away. Are you ready, Miss Breck?”
“After the night I just had? You bet.”
She spun around on her high heels and picked her way through the puddles in the alley to the waiting town car.
Judd’s gaze locked onto her swaying hips in the glittering material below the bomber jacket and the endless legs below the jagged hem of the skirt. London had a tall, slim build, but he wouldn’t call her skinny.
Wouldn’t kick her out of bed, either.
He motioned for the driver to get in the car first and held open the door as Theodore squeezed behind the wheel. Judd slammed the door after Theodore and ducked into the backseat.
It smelled like brand-new leather, which felt as smooth as butter beneath his fingertips as he adjusted himself on the seat next to London.
The glass between the front and backseats slid open. “Where to, Miss Breck?”
“How about Sneaky Pete’s in the Lower Haight?”
“I don’t think it’s very safe down there, Miss Breck.”
“I’m going to be with Bunny Harris’s bodyguard, and he’s—” she patted his chest “—packing heat.”
“It’s that obvious?”
“To the practiced eye.” With her hand still on his chest, she ran those practiced eyes down to his thighs and a slow heat simmered his blood.
“And here I thought we were headed someplace upscale and trendy.”
“I just want a quiet drink. Disappointed?” She snatched her hand back and dropped it into her lap where her ripped dress had ridden up, exposing her creamy thighs.
“Doesn’t make any difference to me, but if we’re headed that way, I need to make a stop first. Is that a problem?”
“Not for me.” She leaned forward in her seat. “Theodore?”
“Not a problem, sir. Where to?”
Judd pulled the bag of jewels from his pocket and tossed it on the seat between him and London. “I need to make a deposit at Bunny’s house.”
“I know exactly where the Harris house is. It’s not too far from Mr. Breck’s residence. We’ll be there in less than fifteen minutes.” The privacy glass magically slid into place while Theodore backed the car out of the alley and rolled onto the street.
“I’m sure this was your idea.” London caressed the velvet pouch. “Bunny is notoriously careless, especially when she’s met a new young stud.”
“I noticed.”
“Do you guard her body or her possessions?”
“This is a one-night gig for me. I was helping out a buddy, and the directive was to watch the jewels. When it was clear she’d made plans after the gala with someone she’d just met, I insisted she leave her jewels with me.”
“You’re one of those Brodys, aren’t you?”
Why wouldn’t she know his family? Hers had been in this city longer than his. He hunched forward and inspected the mobile liquor cabinet in front of him. “Yep.”
“Congratulations.”
“For what?” He lifted the lid from a cut-glass decanter half-full of dark amber liquid and sniffed the rich aroma.
“After all these years, it looks as though your brother and that true-crime writer uncovered the truth that your father wasn’t the Phone Book Killer.”
“I guess so.” He investigated another decanter.
“You seem rather nonchalant about it all.”
“Happened a long time ago.” And he’d sealed off that part of his life in a cold little box in one corner of his heart. He’d let his older brothers gnash their teeth over the stain on the family name. He’d schooled himself not to think about it...or his father.
Her hand covered his, grasping the decanter. “Do you want a drink?”
That smooth skin against his did things to his insides. Was she that smooth all over? That perfect? He’d have fun getting her a little dirty.
His gaze wandered to the tinted glass. Would Theodore mind? This backseat afforded plenty of room to twist this leggy blonde into a pretzel. But she deserved more than a quickie.
He stared into her murky green eyes. “I can wait.”
As her hand left his, she trailed her short, polished fingernails across his skin and he suppressed a shiver.
This one might be made of ice, but she liked to play with fire. He’d seen the tabloids—London Breck jumping naked into a fountain, London Breck running away from home at seventeen to join a rock band on tour, London Breck getting arrested in Qatar for having one of the world’s largest diamonds in her possession, which she’d claimed a married sheikh had given her.
Slumming it with a lowly P.I. could be her next crazy prank.
Hell, he was game.
What made him think she wasn’t his type? Any gorgeous woman who was up for a good time was his type.
The car slid to a smooth stop at the gates of a mansion in Pacific Heights. The city lights created a twinkling river before them.
The intercom clicked on and Theodore’s voice rumbled across the speaker. “I don’t know if we can get past the security gates, sir.”
“Mrs. Harris and I made arrangements. Pull up to the call box, Theodore.”
The car turned into the driveway and stopped at the intercom at the gate. Judd punched the button and held it in.
“Hello?”
“This is Judd Brody.”
“Of course, Mr. Brody. Mrs. Harris left instructions.”
The gate eased open and Theodore drove the car around the short, circular drive in front of the Victorian mansion. Did London live in a place like this up here?
“I’ll be right back.” Judd swung open the door before Theodore could get out and open it for him. He strode up the front porch and rang the doorbell, which chimed somewhere deep in the house.
The door opened a crack and an eyeball assessed him. Then the crack widened and the pinched face of Bunny’s butler appeared.
Judd held out the pouch. “Mrs. Harris wants these to go right back in the safe.”
“Yes, of course.” The butler snatched the pouch with long, bony fingers and pressed it to his heart. “Thank you, Mr. Brody, for looking after Bunny’s treasures.”
“I think someone else is looking after her treasures now.”
He left the butler standing at the door with his mouth gaping open, launched off the porch and grabbed the handle of the car door.
He fell onto the seat and ran a hand through his hair. “On to Sneaky Pete’s.”
The car lurched forward and London fell against his shoulder. She took her time getting back into her own space. So she felt it, too?
He’d better maintain control. The drive to the Haight wasn’t that long—not nearly long enough for what he planned for London.
He cleared his throat. “Do you live in Pacific Heights?”
“No.” She shook her head and her hair shimmered. “I live on Nob Hill, but my father has a place here. I’m not moving.”
He shot a quick glance at her luscious lips, now pressed into a determined line. His simple question had changed the mood in the car.
London kept her hands in her lap and stared out the window. She seemed to have lost interest in their flirtation, so maybe he wouldn’t be getting lucky with an heiress tonight.
Theodore pulled the car to the curb, but this time Judd didn’t beat him to the door. Theodore opened London’s door with a wrinkled brow beneath his cap. “I don’t like this, Miss Breck.”
“It’s all good, Theodore. Do you want to join us for a drink?”
He crossed his arms, resting them on his big belly. “I don’t drink and drive. Never have, never will.”
Judd clambered from the car and eyed the seedy bar with the psychedelic mural on the outside wall and a flickering red neon sign. “I’ll take care of her, Theodore.”
“Thank you, sir.”
London heaved an exaggerated sigh, but she didn’t protest. “You can take the car home, Theodore. We can get a taxi later.”
“I have my own code. I take you somewhere, and I bring you back. Call when you’re ready.”
“If you insist.” She winked at Judd.
“Hold on.” Judd shed his dinner jacket, shrugged out of his cummerbund and pulled off his bow tie. He tossed them into the backseat of the car. “I don’t want to be overdressed.”
London tugged her motorcycle jacket closed over the sparkly material of her dress. “You have a point.”
Judd opened the door of the bar and ushered her through. The neon motif from outside carried forward to the interior. Standard-issue neon beer signs flashed on the walls, and a jukebox in the corner cranked out a hard-rock tune. If smoking in bars were allowed in this city, this would be a smoke-filled room.
Instead patrons cracked peanut shells and dropped them on the floor as they gathered around tables or hunched over the bar. A few couples danced on the wood floor of a small room off the main bar. Nobody looked at them twice.
Rolling up the sleeves of his white shirt, Judd led London to a table near the jukebox and slid onto the wood bench across from her. “Come here often?”
“Every once in a while.” Her gaze scanned the tattoos spilling down one of his arms, and she pointed to the long bar of scarred wood. “We can order at the bar. The waitresses here are few and far between.”
“I’m in no hurry, are you?” He caught the eye of a waitress in a pair of short shorts and a tie-dyed T-shirt tied under her breasts.
She scurried over, balancing a tray of drinks with one hand. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a beer, whatever you have on tap.”
“I’ll take the same.” London turned wide eyes on him. “How did you get her to come over here so fast?”
He shrugged. “I just made eye contact. It works better than yelling.”
Her gaze dropped from his face and meandered across his chest, where he’d undone the first few buttons of his shirt. His flesh warmed in the wake of her inventory.
“Yeah, whatever.” She folded her arms on the table. “So what do you normally do for a living when you’re not helping out friends guarding jewels for rich, frisky matrons?”
“Guard jewels for rich, frisky matrons.”
“Really?”
He stretched his legs out to the side of the table. “I’m a private investigator and bodyguard. Usually my assignments are more long-term than this one. I just got back from a job in Saudi Arabia.”
“I know a few people in that part of the world.” She flashed her teeth in more of a grimace than a smile and drummed her fingernails on the table. “Is it interesting work?”
“It can be. There’s a lot of travel involved, which I like.”
“I like to travel, too.” She stopped fidgeting and pressed her palms together. “Things will be a little different for me now, now that...”
“Your father died. Sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
“He left you in charge?”
Her eyes narrowed and glittered. “You sound surprised.”
“You sound defensive.”
She puffed out a breath, blowing a strand of hair from her eyes. “Let’s just say I’m dealing with a lot right now. Lots of unhappy people never expected Dad to put the reins of Breck Global Enterprises in the hands of his flighty daughter.”
“You’re his only child?” He knew that, of course, even if he didn’t follow San Francisco society closely, except when he needed to for his clients. But he stubbornly wanted to pretend he knew nothing about her famous family.
“Only legitimate one.” She rubbed her chin. “I do have a half brother. I’m sure my father would’ve preferred me as the bastard and Wade as the legitimate son. You have three brothers, right?”
He raised his brows but held his response as the waitress delivered their drinks and a bowl of peanuts.
The waitress asked, “Do you want anything to eat?”
“No, thanks.” He tipped his chin at London. “You?”
“Not after all that rich food at the benefit.”
He sipped the dark, malty beer through the thick head of foam and met London’s purposeful look over the rim of the glass.
“Three brothers? I know one’s a cop in the city, and then there’s the one who was working with that writer.”
“You seem to know a lot about my family.”
“The Brody family is in the news almost as much as my family.” Her lips puckered and she blew on the foam in her glass.
“For very different reasons.” He shifted his gaze away from that kissable mouth. He’d let her make all the moves.
“While you’re all busy delivering justice, the Brecks are delivering...money.”
“Both equally necessary. Besides, I don’t deliver justice. I just look out for pretty people and their pretty things.”
He didn’t believe in justice—not after losing his father when he was practically a baby and then his mother to drugs and alcohol. Sean had been a great big brother, but a sibling was no substitute for a mom and dad.
“Thank God for that.” London clinked her mug with his.
The song on the jukebox had changed to a slow ballad all about how love hurt, and Judd took a swig of beer. Hell, love didn’t hurt, not if you dropped it in its tracks.
London rapped her knuckles on the table between them. “You wanna dance?”
“You’re kidding.”
“There are some couples out there.” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder at the postage-stamp dance floor.
“That doesn’t mean we have to join them.”
She tugged on his rolled-up sleeve. “Come on. I promise not to jump on the tabletop.”
Her cool fingers brushed against his skin, causing a thudding ache in the middle of his belly. “Have you been known to do that? Jump on tabletops?”
Her fingernails dug into his forearm. “Don’t pretend you don’t know about me, Judd Brody.”
Busted. He jumped from the booth. If this was some weird mating ritual she had, he’d play along.
When they hit the dance floor, he pulled her snug against his body. Who did she think she was toying with, some upper-crust rich boy? He didn’t play games. If a woman signaled interest the way London was doing, he’d take her up on the offer every time.
Wrapping one arm around her slender waist, he reached up with his other hand to tuck her head against his shoulder. Her breath warmed his skin through the thin material of his shirt.
He rested his cheek against her bright hair, and the golden strands stuck to the stubble of his beard. Reaching between their bodies, he opened her leather jacket and drew her close, his chest pressing against her soft breasts beneath the silvery material of her dress.
She shifted and her soft lips touched the side of his neck.
He gritted his teeth to suppress the shudder threatening to engulf his body. Her expensive perfume enveloped them, and for the first time in a very long time and a very long line of women, he felt on the edge of losing control.
Then the door to the bar burst open and Theodore, bloodied and battered, staggered into the room and dropped to the floor.
