Mac unfastened his seat belt and turned toward her. “Any more information on how that happened?”
“No. I sent e-mails to a couple of people. My former assistant is doing some investigating. I brought in more money than any other associate. More than a couple of the partners. I did a good job, my clients were happy and well represented….”
“Do you think Lyle did something.”
“Yeah. Or said something. Lying weasel rat bastard.”
Her energy made the air crackle, and her intensity only added to her appeal. She was a hell of a woman and not one he should be thinking about. Not only did they want different things, but once again he was forced to remind himself that sleeping with the man’s daughter was a piss-poor way to thank Judge Strathern for all his help. Plus he needed to spend his free time focusing on reconnecting with Emily.
But he couldn’t resist reaching out and gently wrapping a strand of her hair around his finger.
“What happens if you find out Lyle did something?” he asked.
“I’ll go break his kneecaps.” She leaned toward Mac. “Want to help?”
“It violates the terms of my custody agreement. Plus I’d have to arrest myself afterward.”
“We don’t want that. I guess I’ll have to come up with a different kind of punishment.”
Mac wanted to tell her that Lyle had already suffered the greatest loss—he’d lost Jill. Obviously the lying weasel rat bastard hadn’t known a good thing when he’d seen it. But Mac knew.
He wanted her. Funny how long it had been since he’d wanted a woman. Not just in bed, either, although he wouldn’t turn that down. He wanted to hear her laughing at his jokes, sharing her opinion on every thing. He wanted to talk about politics and the possibility of an afterlife. He wanted to know if she opened presents on Christmas morning or Christmas Eve. He contented himself with staring into her dark eyes and wanting her mouth on his.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” she whispered.
“Not even for money,” he said with a chuckle.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“There’s not going to be any fun.”
She pouted. “Why not?”
“I can give you a list of reasons, but here are the two most pressing. I’m going to guess your aunt and my daughter are looking out the window right now.”
“Emily’s only eight and will get bored.”
“And your aunt?”
She leaned closer. “Let her get her own guy.”
A ready-and-willing Jill was more than he could resist. He tangled his hand in her hair and shifted so he could kiss her.
She responded instantly, her warm, soft lips moving against his. Her fingers curled into his upper arms. Their breath mingled and he figured he wouldn’t mind doing this for the rest of the night.
As he moved his tongue across the seam, she made a noise low in her throat, then parted for him. He welcomed the invitation and swept inside.
She tasted of mint and coffee. Heat swirled around them. He shifted so he could kiss her jaw, then he licked the soft skin under her ear. She shivered and breathed his name. From there it was a short journey down the velvety smoothness of her neck to her collarbone. The V of her T-shirt offered possibilities, but none he could take advantage of at the moment. With the console jut ting out between them, he couldn’t get close enough, and he growled with frustration.
“What?” she asked as she raised her head. Her eyes were nearly black in the faint glow of the streetlight.
“I want you closer.”
“Me, too.”
She pushed against the seat and promptly banged her head against the roof of the truck.
“I’m horrible at this,” she said with a laugh. “Jeez. Are we too old or what?”
Instead of answering, he kissed her again. A soft but demanding kiss that had her melting in his arms.
“Oh yeah,” she breathed. “This is good.”
He was hard and ready. It had been a long time since his last close encounter. Too long. But his need for Jill was about more than just being without. Still, his daughter was waiting, her aunt might be watching and this wasn’t the time.
He cupped her face. “I need to ask for another rain check.”
“You’re piling them up.”
“I may collect all at once.”
“That would be interesting.”
“Ready?” he asked, reaching for his door handle.
“As I’ll ever be.”
NEARLY A WEEK LATER, sometime close to midnight, two long, black limousines drove into Los Lobos. Mr. Harrison saw them as he put out his cat for the night. Mrs. Zimmerman heard them drive by as she muted the Tonight Show during a commercial break. And the night clerk at the Surf Rider motel nearly had a heart attack when they pulled into his parking lot.
Six men in dark suits stepped out of the vehicles and made their way to the reception desk.
The clerk, Jim, a college student majoring in chemical engineering, felt his knees begin to shake. He was going to die. Right there. And no one would know for hours.
“M-may I help you?” he asked as the men pulled open the glass door and stepped into the reception area.
“We have a reservation,” one of the men said. They were all big men, with dark hair and distant eyes. “Under Casaccio. Six rooms for tonight, all close together, then two rooms for the next week.”
Jim pushed the registration card toward the man and handed him a pen. “If you’ll just sign the register?”
“Not necessary,” the man said. “I’m Mr. Casaccio. You can call me Rudy.” He passed over a fifty-dollar bill. “I appreciate your understanding.”
“Of course. Sure. Great.”
Jim shoved the reservation card back into the file and quickly programmed six keys. It was only when he’d given the men directions and they’d left that he dared to pick up the fifty and tuck it into his jeans. As soon as he got off work, he was going to take that money and get seriously drunk. It wasn’t every day that a kid like him faced men like that and lived to tell the tale.
CHAPTER SEVEN
JILL STARTED her second week in Los Lobos by wearing her hair—straight, of course—in a braid instead of up. Yes, it was more casual, but it was also easier and didn’t give her a headache by the end of the day. Deter mined to maintain the facade that she was indeed practicing actual law, she still wore a suit, although she was briefly tempted by summer silk slacks and a loose shirt.
She arrived at her office promptly at eight-thirty and started coffee. After going through the mail dropped through the slot in the door on Saturday, she went over her open cases and made notes for the coming week.
There was still the question of what to do about Mr. Harrison’s fence problem. Moving it seemed out of the question. After over a hundred years of tacit agreement on placement, no court would side with the old man. But she hated the thought of sending him away unhappy.
Jill was less concerned about Pam’s mood, but her natural inclination to give a hundred percent had her searching case law for something on aliens.
Not that she wanted to help Pam, she thought, as she leaned back in her chair and stared at the fish on the far wall. They stared back.
“Don’t think about her,” she told herself. “Think about something pleasant.”
Mac instantly came to mind. She hadn’t seen him in a few days and they hadn’t had a repeat of that hot kiss in the car in over a week, but just the memory was enough to make her toes tingle. He was a perfect distraction—and a temptation. At least she had the com fort of knowing she’d had great taste in men back in high school. Of course, things had taken a bad turn with the rat fink lying weasel dog.
Tina arrived about nine-fifteen and walked into Jill’s office.
“You know it’s almost the Fourth of July,” she said by way of greeting.
“Yes. In a couple of days. Why?”
“I have family coming in. The kids don’t have any activities this week. Dave’s real busy over at the tire store. A lot of people get new tires before taking a driving vacation.”
Tina’s annoyance and impatience were clear. Jill couldn’t figure out the cause. “Are you saying you don’t want to work this week?”
The other woman practically rolled her eyes. “What do you think?” she asked in a sharp tone.
“Then go home.”
Tina didn’t look any more pleased at the instruction. “You’re not going to pay me, are you?”
Jill raised her eyebrows. “For not working? No.”
Tina huffed, then turned on her heel and left.
“Amazing,” Jill murmured. She desperately wanted to replace the woman but kept telling herself it wasn’t worth the effort. Not when she, Jill, would be leaving so soon. Patience, she thought. She could survive this with a little patience.
After flipping through more files and doing some research on the Internet, Jill got up for a quick potty break. Liquid in, liquid out, she thought with a grin as she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside the small room, she did her business and turned to wash her hands.
As always, a bright blue-silver fish caught her eye. It stared right at her as she went, then watched while she washed her hands.
“You’re really getting on my nerves,” she told the long-dead creature, took the hand towel and hung it over its pointed little face. “Better.”
As she walked back into her office, she sensed movement. Several men in dark suits stood by her desk. They turned as she approached. The taller of the men walked toward her.
“Your secretary wasn’t at her desk. We let ourselves in.”
“She’s gone for the day.”
“Good.”
“I’M LATE,” MAC SAID as he walked toward the front of the sheriff’s office.
“I know, but this is too good to wait.” Wilma trailed after him waving pink slips of paper. “We got a couple of calls from the usual crackpots, but Mr. Harrison never phones anything in. He’s a sensible man and not too bad-looking if you like ’em old.”
“Wilma, if there’s a point, you have until I get to my car to give it to me.”
“Fine.” She thrust the papers into his hand. “Two long, black limos were seen driving into town late last night. Six men checked into the Surf Rider motel. The night clerk there is the grandson of a friend of mine, so I heard the whole thing from him.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “They were wearing dark suits and pinkie rings.”
Mac didn’t need this. The Fourth of July was in two days. D.J., his youngest deputy, still wanted to talk about more firepower to ward off terrorist attacks. A broken water pipe had flooded one of the big beach parking lots and city maintenance wasn’t sure they’d have it fixed in time for holiday parking and he was late for his appointment with Hollis Bass.
“What’s your point?” he asked as he reached his truck.
“The Mafia!” Wilma sounded more excited than horrified. “They’re here.”
Right. “Not every man who wears a pinkie ring is involved in organized crime.”
“But these guys are.”
“Fine. I’ll deal with it when I’m done with Hollis. I’ll call from the car.”
“Okay. I’ll make a few calls myself and see if I can find out where they are.” She grinned. “Do you think they’re in town to rub somebody out?”
MAC SPENT the short drive to Hollis’s office thinking about all he had to do that afternoon and wondering how Emily was. Ever since Bev had told him that his daughter still didn’t feel safe with him, he’d been working on different ways to let her know how much he loved her. He thought things were getting a little better. She smiled more and responded to his teasing. They were talking more.
