San Francisco Read online

  Without realizing it, I’m already tapping Sky’s number on my phone. I need to hear her voice. Let her breathy timbre calm me down before I do something stupid. More than anything, I need to make sure she’s okay. After finding out more information, seeing and hearing how dangerous Johan is, I need to know she’s all right.

  She answers breathlessly on the second ring. “Hey, honey . . .”

  “Sky, baby.” I let out the breath I was holding until I heard her beautiful voice. The burning anger licking at the edges of my nerves starts to ease, shifting into a simmer. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay. Throwing myself into work today, trying to get my mind off everything. Tracey is doing some research about how to best drop this type of bomb to the press and how to deal with the backlash if he does release the pictures and write the book.”

  My entire body tightens like a live wire, and I breathe through the madness I feel weaving its way through my system. Regardless, Wendy’s supersleuthing is the answer to the problem, and I make a promise to my girl, believing every word. “It’s not going to happen.”

  Her voice is weak when she replies. “You say that, but you don’t know Johan. When he sets his mind to do something, he does it, and if I don’t pay him off . . .”

  “You’re not paying that piece of shit a penny. I’ve had Wendy looking into his past. He’s got some nasty skeletons in his closet, ones we can use to get you out of this predicament.”

  Her tone lifts. “Really?”

  The speck of hope in her voice fills my chest, pride swelling in my mind as I assure her, “Yeah, baby, really. I’m going to take care of this. When can we go over what I’ve got on your ex? Preferably when you’re safe and sound, sitting within the privacy of your own home.”

  “As much as I want to know everything right now, I have to stay focused. We’re shooting late tonight and early tomorrow. Later tomorrow, after we wrap and I’m home, I’ll call you.”

  A ten-foot-tall pine tree isn’t as high as I am knowing I can give her some relief. “Okay, honey.” I use her endearment.

  Her voice is calm when she says, “You really think whatever you got on him will get me off the hook?” I can hear the contentment in her tone, and I’m overjoyed to be the one to give her a modicum of comfort.

  “Not think . . . know.”

  Her voice teeters on the edge of tearful emotion. “Parker . . .” She sniffs, and I know she’s trying to hold back the tears.

  I press the phone closer to my ear, wanting to hear every inhalation, every word more clearly. “I’ll always take care of you. As long as I’m alive, no one is ever going to hurt you. Not ever.” It’s a vow I intend to keep.

  “Honey . . . I love . . .” She starts to make the most important admission in our relationship yet, one I’ve recently made myself, but I want to say it when I’m looking into her eyes, sitting next to her, preferably naked and in bed.

  It kills me to make her wait. I too want to shout it from the rooftops. “Peaches, hold that thought until we can be together. I have some admissions of my own.” My voice comes out rough, as though sandpaper scratched up my vocal cords.

  “Yeah? Ones starting with I love . . . ,” she teases, and the weight of the world slips away. This woman is all I need. Everything I could ever want.

  I grin wide, tip my head back, and laugh at the ceiling. This woman is all mine. All freakin’ mine, and I can’t wait to tell her to her face how very much I adore her.

  “Maybe,” I admit softly.

  “Then I’ll look forward to when you’re back from the West Coast and firmly planted in the best coast.”

  I chuckle at my silly girl. “Call me tomorrow, and we’ll go over what Wendy found on Johan. Does that work for you?”

  “Yeah, honey, it works perfect. And . . .” Her voice shakes a little. “Tell Wendy I appreciate whatever she did for me.”

  “You’ll be able to tell her in person. When you come up next month for our baseball date, we’ll be doing it as a foursome with Wendy and Michael.”

  Skyler giggles, and the sound fills my heart and wraps my body in all things good and right. The blackness, which slid all over my skin from reading through Johan’s past, is falling away with every word my woman says.

  “Sounds like fun! I enjoyed spending time with Wendy and her guy. He seems pretty serious; maybe a baseball game double date will lighten him up.”

  “Maybe. If anyone could do it, it would be the two of you wild women together.”

  She laughs heartily. “Beer and baseball won’t hurt either.”

  My mouth waters at the idea of a ballpark hot dog in one hand, my arm around Skyler, that hand holding a cold beer while watching my favorite team play. It honestly sounds like the perfect day. “No, it wouldn’t hurt. As long as you’re there, I’ll be golden.”

  “I can’t wait,” Skyler says happily.

  “Me either. But first, we have to get through this case, your movie demands, and your scum bucket of an ex and his threats.”

  She groans. “Ugh. I just want to live my life. Why can’t it all be easy, run smoothly?”

  No truer words have ever been said. We all wish for ease but live with drama. “Nothing in life is smooth sailing. Sometimes we have to make our own waves in order to move forward.”

  “I guess so,” she says distractedly, and I hear a voice in the distance calling to her. “I’ve gotta go. Break time is over.”

  “Okay, Peaches, remember to call me tomorrow after shooting, and we’ll figure out the Johan situation together.”

  “Okay. Tonight, when you’re done with your evening and you’re back in your room . . .” She lets the rest of what she was going to say float away.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you dream of me?”

  “I always dream of you, Skyler. Always.”

  8

  “Everything in place?” I call out to Royce as he maneuvers his big body through the crowd of club goers.

  I’m sitting in the VIP section of a rooftop club in San Francisco called Skyline. According to a business contact who owns the joint and my googling, it’s the premier hot spot for those who can afford the hefty entrance fee of two hundred a pop. Since I’m acquainted with the owner, I scored VIP for a song.

  “Yep.”

  “And Rochelle?” I glance around him but don’t see her.

  “Touching up her makeup in the bathroom. The five finalists?” he adds, making his way up the five steps to the VIP section.

  I hook a thumb over my shoulder behind me to where the men are sitting on the black velvet benches scattered throughout the posh area. “Settling in with drinks and talking to the couple of fill-in women we vetted and hired from the agency to make things not seem so focused on Rochelle but more of a party atmosphere.”

  He rubs at his chin and watches while our client finally makes her appearance. It’s as if the crowd is parting like the Red Sea for her. She is quite the vision, wearing a silver swath of fabric that swishes around her body like shimmery water flowing over her curves. The dress has a deep V with a slip of fabric between her breasts to prevent the garment from showing her unmentionables. There’s a slice up her thigh that leaves very little to the imagination about how long and toned her sexy legs are. I bite down on my lip and chance a glance at Roy.

  “Jeez-us,” Royce rumbles, his gaze all over our client. Knowing him as well as I do, I’m sure he’s likely remembering the one time he got in there and wishing he could get in there again.

  I clap a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “For the greater good, brother.”

  He grits his teeth. “Got it. Don’t like it, but I’ve got it. Where’s Keehan?”

  This time I grin and lift my chin. “At the bar, getting a cocktail.”

  Royce scans the area and then finds him. He also notices what I notice. One of the women we vetted is carrying on a conversation with the tall, geeky, buff, black Clark Kent. She flings her hair over her shoulder and touches his forearm. Keehan la
ughs at something she says and then looks down and back up, flirting with her.

  I still as Rochelle grabs the banister and approaches us. “Are we ready for some fun tonight?” she says, all smiles and confidence.

  “We are. Looks like your friend has already started without us.” I nod to where Keehan is talking to the buxom brunette, setting the plan into motion.

  Rochelle’s gaze flashes to where Keehan is, and a frown slips across her face. “Who’s he talking to?”

  I shrug nonchalantly. I didn’t hire her to be in the VIP section, but I did hire her to hit on Keehan mercilessly, mostly because she’s beautiful and looks a fuck-of-a-lot like Rochelle. What’s more entertaining is Keehan is none the wiser. He’s genuinely putting a little mack daddy action on the model. I’m proud of him.

  “Not one of the women I hired for the VIP.” I fudge the truth.

  “Shouldn’t Keehan be over here, with us?” Her tone is agitated.

  “Why?” Royce asks flatly, still probably miffed she had the goods, as in him, and could so easily move on to the prospects we’ve chosen. Apparently when Rochelle says something is fun, she means it. When it’s over, she doesn’t look back. It’s her nature. If it weren’t Royce she’s blowing off, I wouldn’t have a problem with it. People are who they are. Plus, she did make it clear to him, regardless of whether he might have been feeling differently.

  Her gaze narrows. “Because he should be checking out these guys, helping me pick the right one.” Her tone is put out, and I have to hold back my own laughter at the haughtiness she’s expressing.

  “And why would he do that?” I query lightly, making sure not to lead her horse to water so quickly.

  She huffs. “He’s my best friend. My right hand in all things. I would assume he wouldn’t want me making a bad choice. This is the rest of my life.”

  I nod, agreeing. “True, but maybe he doesn’t want to see you commit to another man the way you’ve committed to him all these years.”

  She frowns and leans a hand on the banister, seeming to need the balance. “What do you mean?” She wraps one arm around her waist but doesn’t so much as glance my way. Her eyes are glued to the spectacle before us.

  Keehan leans in, brushing the woman’s hair off her shoulder. She preens beautifully and smiles away at his gentle affection.

  “Well, he’s always been the constant man in your life in all ways except physically, right? Maybe he’s tired of the celibate lifestyle you were hinting he had earlier in the week.”

  Her brow furrows. “I . . . I guess so.”

  “And with you offering up all that is you, maybe he realized he better find his own replacement.” I intentionally dig the knife in a little.

  “That’s absurd. I’d never replace Keehan. He’s everything to me.” She grips the banister with both hands, fingers blanching with how tight she’s holding on.

  I set my hand on her shoulder, and she finally looks at me. “Is he?”

  “Yes.” She shrugs off my hand.

  “Then why are we here?” Royce questions rather dramatically.

  Her nose crinkles, and she purses her lips. “I need a man in my life and my bed. Eventually I want to have a child. A legacy to carry on what I’ve built. What we’ve built.” Her eyes flash with heat, but they don’t stray from Keehan.

  “And you want to do that without Keehan?” I push.

  “No! He’ll always be a part of my life . . .”

  “In what way?” I push harder.

  “All ways,” she fires back.

  I shake my head. “Not if you don’t find him attractive. That’s why all of these men are here and he’s about to score with a hot brunette.”

  “This is ridiculous.” She spins on her heels and practically storms to the VIP section.

  “Not what I had hoped would happen.” I sigh and massage the back of my neck.

  Royce smiles away, hands in the pockets of his tailored-to-perfection suit, and rocks back on his heels.

  “What do you know that I don’t? The situation feels pretty out of hand right now. I’d expected her to see him with Gloria over there and get so jealous lasers would spew from her eyes, causing her to dramatically intervene and claim her man. Only she’s now in the VIP section about to chat up her prospects.”

  “Oh, she’s jealous. Look at her.” He lifts his chin in our client’s direction.

  I turn around and watch Rochelle politely introduce herself to the firefighter, whose gaze slides up and down her form and then back to her face. She offers him a tight smile, not appreciating his assessment. However, as she speaks to him, her gaze keeps flitting to the bar where Keehan and his companion are carrying on. Her lips seem to tighten, and her jaw firms in what I now know, after having been around her for the past week, is pure irritation.

  “I think we should turn this up a notch. What do you say?” Royce grins wickedly.

  “How so?”

  “I’m going to go over and invite Keehan and his lady companion to have a drink in our section.” He grins some more.

  “You’re ruthless.” I cover my smirk with my hand.

  “Perhaps, but you’ve got a woman to get back to, I’ve got a life back in Boston, and I’m tired of being in Cali. It’s time to turn this motha out.”

  “Brother, I couldn’t agree with you more.” The desire to get the hell out of California and back to the East Coast and Skyler is burning through my veins.

  Royce nods and heads over to where Keehan and his friend are at the bar. I see him order a drink from the bartender and then speak to the couple. Once he has his drink, the two of them follow him back to the VIP section, all smiles and soft touches.

  “Keehan.” I offer my hand in greeting.

  “Parker.” He shakes my hand. “This where all the excitement is happening?” His word choices encourage the party vibe, but they come across solemn. He is definitely affected by what we’ve set in motion for Rochelle, regardless of spending time with the beautiful woman next to him.

  “Yep. And who is this lovely lady?” I pretend not to know the woman I hired from the modeling service where I found the other women.

  “Gloria,” she states without missing a beat, following along.

  “Pretty name for a pretty lady.” Royce lifts her hand and kisses her knuckles. It’s one of his signature moves when meeting someone he thinks is sexy.

  I nudge Roy’s shoulder, and Keehan’s eyes narrow at the spectacle of Rochelle laughing at one of the men’s jokes, slapping his shoulder playfully.

  “Come, Gloria,” Keehan says. “I want to introduce you to my friend Rochelle.”

  I grin and watch as the two approach the crowd we’ve assembled in the private section of the club.

  “Man, I wish I’d brought popcorn. This shit is about to get interesting,” Royce says, chuckling, as I watch Rochelle’s eyes turn to ice shards and her bitch face come out at the introduction of Keehan’s companion.

  As the night wears on, the dance Rochelle and Keehan do around one another is comical at best, annoying at worst.

  “Why the hell hasn’t he made his move?” I growl into my gin and tonic as the two couples square off on the dance floor. Rochelle has chosen the doctor, who is essentially the Keehan look-alike. Keehan has stuck to Gloria like glue, even if his eyes have followed Rochelle all over this club.

  Royce shakes his head. “I will admit to this being exhausting. Why the hell did we agree to do this?”

  I cock an eyebrow and point a finger at him around my drink. “You chose this client and this job because you fell for a pretty face.”

  He inhales so deep his nostrils flare. “I will admit to being taken by her looks. The woman is fiiiiine.”

  I nod because he is not wrong. Rochelle is an absolute knockout. Legs for days. A tight body. High cheekbones. Bright smile. Long dark hair. Intelligent. Driven. An absolute catch. She just needs the right fisherman to throw his net over her.

  “True.” I watch as her body undulates sugges
tively around the doctor.

  Keehan’s gaze is glacial as he watches her seductive dance.

  Silently I root for the man. Come on, Keehan. Take charge.

  It happens when the doctor puts a possessive hand on Rochelle’s hip and grinds his crotch into her backside. His other hand runs up her rib cage and over her breast. Rochelle goes still in his arms, and her face contorts into an expression of discomfort. In the doctor’s defense, she was grinding up on him, but she was the one in control. She touched what she wanted, not the other way around. This gave the impression to me, and likely to him, she’d appreciate a little more handsy behavior from her dance partner, but his bullishness has absolutely gone too far.

  Royce and I stand up abruptly from where we’re sitting and head to the dance floor to intervene. When we make it to the duo, Keehan is right there. He grabs the doctor by the wrist, yanks the offending hand away from Rochelle, and twists it behind the man’s back. The doc hollers in pain.

  “Watch it! I’m a doctor!” he yells pitifully and rather drunkenly.

  Rochelle crosses her arms over herself defensively. “Then you shouldn’t have been grabbing my boob with it!”

  Keehan twists the guy’s hand higher. “Apologize to the lady.”

  “But she started with her grinding . . .”

  Keehan roars into his ear and yanks his arm up higher until he cries out once more. “I said, apologize.”

  “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry. Let me go!” he pleads.

  Keehan keeps the man’s arm twisted but puts his other hand around the guy’s neck and grasps his chin, forcing him to look at Rochelle while Keehan grates angrily into his ear. “I’ll let you go, but you will turn around and get the hell out of this club and never look back at my woman again. You see her . . .”

  “Yeah, man, I see her. I see her!” he screeches painfully.

  “No. You. Fucking. Don’t. See. Her. Ever again. You hear me?” He pinches the man’s face and hurls him toward the exit. “Now get the fuck out of here.”