Lethal Bond: Jamie Bond Mysteries Book #3 (2 page)

Maya Alexander, former March Playmate and current office manager extraordinaire, greeted me with a Caramel Macchiato.

God, I loved this woman.

"Morning, boss," she said in her chipper, morning-person tone.

I took a scalding sip while she grabbed her tablet and followed me to my office. We were in the process of turning the agency over from paper to digital, unbeknownst to my father, Derek—founder of the Bond Agency.

Sam was waiting, seated cross-legged in one of the chairs facing my desk. While she flipped through the latest fashion magazine, her top leg bounced. An adorable, black with gold accents, open-toed, high-heeled mule balanced precariously on her toes.

"Are you waiting for me?" I asked, which in two-second hindsight was pretty obvious.

She glanced to Maya and waved a hand. "It can wait."

Samantha Cross, fellow former cover model, an associate, and our weapons specialist, grew up as a military brat, living all over the country. She knew how to handle a man as smoothly as an automatic. The one thing she didn't handle well was having to wait. You'd think being a single mom to a growing boy would've taught her this over the years, but not so much. And that leg bouncing suggested there was something she needed to say.

Maya cleared her throat. "Jamie, Mrs. Griffin is coming in so you can hand over the proof on her husband."

Ah, yes, the infamous panty stealer.

As if it wasn't heartbreaking enough that I'd caught and filmed Mr. Griffin cheating on his wife with a bartender downtown, her yoga instructor,
and
her sister, I'd also caught him breaking into seven women's homes to steal their underwear. Seven. I had no idea if he knew them or not, and I didn't want to know. That man needed a shrink and a really good divorce attorney, although I was rooting for the wife to have a better one. I was thrilled this case was over.

"You also have lunch with Derek," Maya said, interrupting my thoughts of the Panty Prowler.

I tried not to sigh too heavily. A part of me felt obligated to endure thirty minutes of my father talking with his mouth full because this was his agency. I'd taken it over three years ago after he'd been shot and his doctor had forbidden stress. Then again, the other part of me, the one still nursing a grudge that, among other parental missteps, the man had named me
James
Bond, wished he'd lose my number.

But he was my dad, and it was a free lunch.

"There's also a new case coming in," Maya continued. "You're meeting with Mrs. Livingston this afternoon."

"What's her story?" I asked, perching on the edge of my desk.

Maya grinned. "She and her husband have an open marriage."

Sam raised her brows. The leg stopped bouncing.

Maya glanced at her notes. "She's worried that her husband might be secretly monogamous. And she doesn't want that. She said, and I quote, 'the fact that we are both with other people is what makes the relationship work.' End quote. She's hiring you to find out if he's not cheating."

Well that was a first.

Maya handed over my itinerary, and I checked to make sure there was a gap in my day to pick up Danny. Luckily, there was. "Thanks, Maya."

When she walked out, I stared at Sam. "What's going on?"

She glanced over her shoulder, as if making sure no one else was listening, and leaned forward.

Butterflies swarmed my stomach. This had to be big. My girls weren't usually secret keepers. They were pretty transparent about most things.

"Something is up with Caleigh."

I frowned, not even a little bit sure what she referred to. "In what way?"

Sam rose and cocked her head toward my door. "Come on. I'll show you."

I grabbed my coffee and followed her out across the waiting area to Caleigh's office.

Before even stepping inside, I noticed a full-length mirror propped up against a wall. That wasn't there yesterday. Was Caleigh having another new-date fashion crisis?

Caleigh Presley rounded out our quartet. Another investigator and retired model, she told everyone she met that she was the distant cousin of Elvis. Smart, sexy, and southern, Caleigh brought a bubbly touch to the agency. As well as the skills of a professional computer hacker. She was Yin to Sam's Yang, in not only personality but looks too. Caleigh was blonde, naturally pale with big blue eyes, and had the temperament of cotton candy—light and sweet. Whereas, Sam was all long legs, mocha-colored skin, and dark curls wound as tight as her aim.

When I stepped inside Caleigh's office, I sucked in a breath.

She was wearing a wedding gown. Victorian lace, high collar, pearl bodice, puffed shoulders, long sleeves, blinding white, floor-length with a train, and a full veil, wedding gown.

I glanced to Sam, who pressed her lips together and shrugged. I couldn't speak for a moment. Had Caleigh been dating someone and forgot to tell us?

"Cal, what's going on?" The words finally made it out of my mouth.

"Need a couple of bridesmaids?" Sam asked.

Caleigh puckered her brows at Sam then shook her head. "This isn't real. My God, you'd be the first to know if I was dating anyone serious enough to marry."

Sam and I let out a collective breath.

"Then what's with the dress?" I asked.

Caleigh stared at me straight in the eye. "Because Daddy's coming, of course."

Of course.

"And you plan on marrying him?" Sam asked.

Caleigh shook her head, oblivious to the ribbing Sam was doing at her expense.

"I kinda told him I was getting married."

Sam snorted. I covered my mouth to hold back a laugh.

"Oh, honey," I said, "what on Earth possessed you to do that?" 

Caleigh plopped into her desk chair. "He's always going on and on about how I need to settle down and do the housewife thing, have babies, you know. With Mama gone, he's been pushing my sisters and me harder than usual. So, to get him off my back, I blurted out, 'Surprise, I'm engaged.'"

Surprise indeed.

She held out her left hand and showed us a ring with a rock as big as my thumb. "It's not real. Just a two-carat, marquis Cubic Zirconia. I bought it off Amazon and had it shipped overnight. Isn't it beautiful though?"

While she admired her fake diamond, Sam and I exchanged looks again. Sam was right. Caleigh's behavior was beyond any she normally displayed.

"This was my Mama's wedding dress, when she married Daddy. He sent it up so I could wear it, like I always said I wanted to." She sniffled. "Wasn't that sweet of him?"

I stepped closer. "It is, but how long do you think you can keep up this pretense?"

Caleigh shrugged. "I was kinda hoping forever."

"Just tell him the truth," Sam said.

Her eyes widened. She looked like Sam had raised a palm and struck her. "Are you kidding? There's no way I am going back on anything. He'd never let me forget it. Oh no, I'd endure phone call after phone call about how much I pained and embarrassed him. I'm sure he's told everyone we know from back home. That man is as stubborn as they come." Her tone had hardened.

I thought of Derek. I knew exactly what it was like to have an interfering father who thought he knew best. About everything.

Sam groaned. Her father was Command Sergeant Major Cross. She also knew it all too well.

"How can we help?" I asked.

Caleigh wiped the corners of her eyes. "Right now, he's on his way to visit my sister in Florida. He'll be here in L.A. the week after. He's staying for five days and four nights, so I only have to pretend for less than a week. It can't be that hard, right?"

In theory, maybe not, except… "What happens when he wants to meet his future son-in-law?" I asked, hoping she'd realize how insane this was and figure out a way to call it off. There was no reason her father would hold it against her if she and her mysterious fiancé suddenly called their engagement off.

"Well, that's where I'm planning on begging someone to play along."

"Someone?" Sam asked. "Like a stranger off the street?"

Caleigh scrunched up her face. "No, I asked Danny."

Sam chuckled.

I froze. "My Danny?" Well, not that he was
mine
exactly but…

"Why is that funny?" Caleigh asked Sam, ignoring me.

Sam glanced to me. I wasn't sure if she was looking for help or if she heard me. Either way, she faced Caleigh and frowned. "Because this is crazy. You can't pretend to be engaged."

Caleigh stood and went back to admiring herself in the mirror. "Why not? People do it all the time."

"What people? The ones on soap operas? They don't exactly count. Besides you can't do it with…him."

From the mirror's reflection, I watched Sam cock her head toward me.

It took Caleigh a moment. Then she turned and grabbed my arms. "Oh my goodness, I didn't mean to upset you. I mean, I didn't even really mean to ask Danny. That afternoon I visited him in the hospital, I'd just heard from Daddy, and I was rambling, and the idea popped into my head."

Her eyes widened when she said, "popped," all animated-like. She let me go and took a step back. "If it makes you uncomfortable, well, I'll just find someone else."

When she stopped speaking, she gasped for air.

Sam had scrunched up her mouth and squinted, as if she was anticipating my response and assumed it would entail yelling or crying or something less than pleasant. Which surprised me considering she knew me well enough to know I did neither of the two. Usually.

"It's fine," I said. And it was. Danny and I were just friends. Like Aiden, Danny could see, pretend with, and date whomever he wanted.

"You're sure?" Sam asked, giving me her best get real look.

"Positive." And I was. Even if the odd twist in the pit of my stomach at the thought of Danny cozying up to my hottest employee as her fiancé wasn't as convinced.

*  *  *

The rest of my morning after Caleigh's fake engagement announcement entailed listening to Mrs. Griffin ranted about her adulterous thief of a future ex-husband. She muttered words like "divorce, public humiliation, and Lorena Bobbitt." Then she dialed the police, ratted on her husband's panty heists, paid her bill, and walked out. Hopefully I'd never see either of them again, but I also hoped I wouldn't find out on the evening news that Mr. Griffin was missing his family jewels.

After ridding myself of one pain in the butt, I went to meet the other—Derek. By the time I pulled up to the greasy roadside taco joint, he was already in line. I grimaced as I joined him. The place was clearly his choice. Definitely not mine. Mine would've included white tablecloths and actual silverware, rather than plastic sporks. Four walls would've been nice too. The fact that there were three people ahead of us and at least eight behind made me feel a bit safer about eating here. But just a bit. I couldn't help but visually inspect the area, looking out for roaches or puppy-sized rodents as Derek greeted me with his usual, "Hey, kid."

It seemed clean, but I still had my doubts.

Derek ordered fish tacos for both of us. Sometimes I hated that he knew me so well. Normally I'd make a stink about a guy ordering for me without asking, but the fact was, they were my fave. Plus, I was starved and had to admit everything smelled great.

We grabbed our plates of tacos, refried beans, and rice with a bottles of water (for me) and a Corona (for Derek, whose philosophy in life centered around it always being five o'clock somewhere) and headed to an empty picnic table.

"Since when do you eat fish?" I asked, sliding onto the seat. I would've assumed he'd order the beef, or if they had it, roasted pig slathered in barbecue sauce.

"I've been trying to make some changes. Give the old ticker a fighting chance."

I eyed him suspiciously. "Hmmm."

He had dark circles under his eyes. He wasn't sleeping. I tried not to imagine what activities or sexual athletics could be keeping him awake. If this was three years ago or even three months, I'd assume he was worried about my taking over the business, but we were past that now.

I hoped.

I bit into my first taco. A mixture of mild fish, lemon, red cabbage, a hint of mayo, and saltiness exploded in my mouth. Oh wow, this was good.

I must've made my everything-is-right-with-the-world face because Derek grinned and nodded. "I knew you'd like it. I know my food."

I scoffed. Loudly. He was far from a foodie. While the tacos were great, he also used this same enthusiasm when ordering a Big Mac value meal at McDonalds.

"What?" he asked, looking mildly offended.

"This is your idea of fancy dining. Just because the meal tastes great doesn't mean I want to share it with flies and mosquitoes."

He waved a hand at my words. "Pfft. What's wrong with it? You don't need a reservation. There's no wait. You can usually get a table right away."

There were ten tables total. One was empty at the moment.

"José, the owner and cook, is always polite, and if you're one of his favorites, he gives you extra beans."

I glanced to Derek's plate. Sure enough, his scoop of mashed gook was higher than mine. "So you'll be extra gassy? That's wonderful."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "And the food is delicious."

I nodded. "I'll give you the delicious part."

We went about stuffing our bellies in silence. Derek shoveled the refried beans into his mouth as if he was in a race. A glob of it landed on his white Polo shirt. He scraped it off and ignored the stain it left behind. He wasn't a total slob. He may not have always noticed toast crumbs on his kitchenette counter, or a coffee spoon stain, but he always showered and laundered and generally took enough care with his appearance to keep the baby boomer women of L.A. county swooning over his charm. But I knew that shirt would end up without pre-cleaners, and next time he wore it, he wouldn't even notice that brown spot.

About half way through my second taco, I stopped searching for signs of an expired health inspection and managed to calm down enough to enjoy my meal.

Then Derek cleared his throat. "So, listen, I need a favor."

I sighed around a mouthful. "I knew a free lunch was too good to be true."