Heat: An Alpha Male Criminal Romance (A Hotter Than Hell Novel Book 1) (32 page)

I TAKE MY PERSONAL
phone from my pants pocket to check e-mail. I’m dressed in my normal BDUs with another loose T-shirt to cover my gun. The e-mails waiting are mostly junk with the exception of a possible client. The woman’s name is Shirley and she references one of my first clients. I shoot back an answer asking when and where we can meet.

The car approaches the Sunnyslope area, and I give Philip Terry’s address. I also decide being driven around isn’t all bad. I’m in the middle of a hot game of Tower Defense on my cell when a message slides across the top of the screen that I have incoming e-mail. It’s my prospective client, and I reply that four o’clock works perfectly in my schedule today. We pull into Terry’s parking lot, and I open my door as soon as Philip parks the car. He takes his chauffeuring services seriously because he hustles around and gives me a glare after he lifts his dark shades.

I shrug and walk to the door, which Philip beats me to and opens before I can. “You are waiting in the car, correct?” My voice makes it clear this is not an actual question.

“I’ll remain here at the door,” he returns in a voice that says, “Don’t argue.”

He’s in a dress shirt and tie minus a suit jacket. I don’t need him melting into the pavement. “Oh, for God’s sake, wait in the lobby,” I grumble before stomping inside. The fun of having a chauffeur has morphed into the complexities of having a bodyguard.

Two feet in the door and I come to a halt. There are now two desks in the lobby. A woman who I don’t recognize is sitting behind Brenda’s desk and the new desk is empty.

“Good afternoon. Welcome to the Law Offices of Lewis and Lewis. How may I assist you?”

Lewis and Lewis is my first thought. Next, I take in the woman behind the desk. She must be taller than Moon. Her hands are definitely larger. I’m trying to formulate a sentence, when Brenda walks from the hallway. Her smile is light and cheerful, so whatever’s going on, it’s not causing her concern.

“Hi, Mak. I see you’ve met Terry’s bride, Mrs. Lewis.” She turns to the bride. “Mak is one of our private investigators.”

Mrs. Lewis stands—all six plus feet of her—and walks around the desk while placing her hand out. “Please call me Sheila. We’ve only been married two days, and Brenda enjoys teasing me. It’s wonderful to meet you.” Her voice is manly low. She’s wearing tight black jeans and a gauzy gray blouse unbuttoned to show off a tremendous amount of cleavage. A silver linked belt hangs low on her hips, and she’s wearing flat sling back shoes. Her makeup is over the top, and I’m seriously considering the possibility that she is or was a he. No judgment, it just surprises me.

I can’t help following the movement of her hand as it envelopes mine completely. Oh, God, she has hairy knuckles with long fingernails covered by gray polish. Thankfully, her grip isn’t too tight and she releases my hand quickly. This is Sheila. The Sheila. As in the one who was suing Terry for dropping her during wall sex. I’ve now had my share of wall sex, and I’m less inclined to think dropping someone is funny. So why the fuck am I holding back laughter? It must be the thought that Terry had the Herculean strength to lift her in the first place.

“Is someone helping you?” Brenda asks while straining her neck to look behind me. With the two desks, the new… umm… face, and the fact that Terry is now married, I forgot about Philip.

“He’s with me. Kind of with me.” How do I explain this? “My car is in the shop and he’s driving me around today. Meet Philip.”

Brenda takes a step to the side so she can check him out from head to toe. “Any chance there could be more nuptials in the near future?” she asks with an appreciative purr that belies her age, which is most likely twice that of Philip’s. She actually thinks I’m with him, as in with him with him.

This doesn’t bother Philip in the slightest. “No ma’am, I’m just doing as my boss requests.”

Shit. We can’t go there. “I’m sorry, Brenda, but I have another appointment shortly and really need to speak with Terry if he’s available.”

“Sure, follow me back.” Now her eyes are inquisitive as she glances between me and my bodyguard.

I turn to Philip. “I need you to wait out here. That’s an order from your boss.” I emphasize
boss
and hope he gets the hint. The asshole winks at me, which I know everyone sees. Growling will only make this worse, so I hold it back. I follow Brenda to Terry’s office and avoid the inquisitive looks she gives me.

“You got some splainin’ to do, girl. Over margaritas preferably. You can bring Philip if you like.”

“Dirty old woman,” I mutter with a smile before we walk in Terry’s office. He stands and holy fuck the man’s in an orange suit. Orange as in pumpkin orange. Even in the fall, it would bring on seizures or have small children running in terror. The new Mrs. Lewis needs to have a talk with her man about style.

Terry looks surprised to see me and slightly uncomfortable. I turn back to Brenda. “If you don’t mind, please close the door on your way out. I don’t want my yelling to upset Terry’s new wife.”

“Margaritas, lady, and I’m serious.”

“You’re on if you can wait until next week.” There is no way I’m bringing Philip or God forbid Moon. I need things to quiet down on the Estephon front so a bodyguard isn’t included in my day.

Brenda gives me a wink bigger than Philip’s. I turn around and square off with Terry as soon as the door clicks shut.

“What the fuck did you mean I’m off the case and that I could keep the fucking money? If you’re on their payroll now, I swear you’re going down too.” Terry’s trying to talk, but I bulldoze right over him. “I might have tits and a vagina, but I can take care of myself. You’ve never had a problem when I interview men who enjoy beating their wives. Or have you forgotten that clusterfuck job you gave me with the guy that put his wife in the hospital with two broken legs?”

My tirade ends when Mrs. Lewis walks in. She gives me a rather nasty, scary look and walks to her new husband. She lifts her hand, and, I kid you not, she puts it on top of Terry’s head, her hand encompassing most of his scalp, and turns his face so he’s looking at her.

“There there, sweetums. She’s having a bad day.” Sheila looks at me and glares. “We do not share our bad days and put them on others.”

I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, or apologize. The look on Terry’s face is pure lust. I need to put vomit on my list of immediate responses. Instead, I turn and walk out. I can hear Sheila’s lovey dovey talk all the way back to the lobby. Philip is standing by the front door with his legs slightly spread and a shit-eating grin on his face. I can’t help lifting my hand and giving him the finger.

“Given the chance, I would have warned you,” Brenda sing songs.

“Next week,” I tell her. I walk to the door and Philip pushes it open for me. I slip beneath his arm and march out to the car.

“Where to now, boss?” he asks when he’s in the driver’s seat. “Just drive,” I order him. A mile away from Terry’s office, I tell him to pull into Manabertos.

“That’s a joke, right?”

“No. It’s not a fucking joke. I can’t think of any better way to get food poisoning and ruin a perfectly bad day than to have a mega-burrito from Manabertos.” I swear if Philip doesn’t pull in, I’m jumping out.

He swings the car into the parking lot and I tell him to go around to the drive-thru.

“I heard a rumor that all the cats go missing in this neighborhood.”

“I heard the same rumor about dogs,” I deadpan back.

He pulls up to the window. “And you’re still eating one of those things?”

“You plan on stopping me?”

He orders a mega-burrito and two large sodas. “Be sure to get lots of napkins,” I tell him because the burritos leak out a gallon of runny fat and God knows what else.

Philip thrums his fingers on the steering wheel. “We’re not eating in the car. We can go to the park or something. I’ll never get the smell out if you open the bag in here.”

“Do I need to remind you that it’s over one ten out there?”

He turns, lifts his sunglasses, and gives me
the
look.

“Do I need to remind you that I need this job? I was told to keep you safe. Eating a mega-burrito from Manabertos is doing just the opposite.” He thinks he’s so funny.

“I ate them all the time when I worked night shifts in this area.”

I’m rewarded with a large grin. “I ate them all the time when I worked nights in Maryvale.”

“Yea, nights as a cop,” I joke.

“Damn straight as a cop.”

I lean forward. “You’re shittin’ me?”

“Twelve years—six years in sex crimes.”

He isn’t fucking shittin’ me. “You went from cop to working for the biggest crime boss in Arizona?”

His grin disappears. “I saw child molesters walk away with a slap on the hand. I saw murderers with good attorneys take three years after charges were reduced to manslaughter while a druggy selling a dime bag went down for fifteen. Fuck yes, I’m working for the biggest crime boss in Arizona. He’s fair. He’s as honest as he can be and he takes care of the people that the justice system doesn’t. I’ll take that justice over the other any day.”

He stops talking when the drive-thru window opens and he pays for my lunch and our drinks. “Where’s the closest park?” he asks as he turns back onto the street.

“Around the corner. Park on the south side. There’s a rotunda that should have some shade.” I’m trying to absorb what he’s just told me. He was a cop. Moon takes care of people the justice system doesn’t. I’m not sure what to think.

Philip follows my directions, and then we get out of the car and walk to a covered bench. I’m holding my soda and he has his along with my bagged burrito. He tosses it on the table and opens it to pull out two straws. He hands one over and then pushes the bag my way with a look of distaste.

I pull napkins out, spread them over my lap, grab the burrito, and then open the white wrapper. I give an orgasmic moan with the first bite. Beef, onions, assorted spices, and enough grease to keep the Hoover Dam running smoothly. There is no way to eat one of these and not make a mess. I swallow and let out another moan.

“You should have ordered one,” I tell Philip after my first several bites.

“You should eat one in front of Moon,” he fires back.

I blush and think about the story Moon told me about the man who enjoys watching women eat. I take another bite and wash it down with a sip of Coke. I rub the outside of the cup across my face to cool down. The burrito is hot and spicy, just the way I like it.

“Were you on Moon’s payroll while you were still a cop?” I’ve accepted the fact that cops are on Moon’s payroll, and I’m curious.

“No. I met Moon at a trial. One of his escorts was murdered. The man walked away after raping her seven ways ’till Sunday and strangling her when he was done. Moon never said a word. He stared at the guy the entire trial. I knew who Moon was. Knew the guy would be better off with a life sentence. He walked. Seems the jury didn’t think the man needed to rape a prostitute when he was paying for it. Also said they didn’t think the clean-cut business man could do it.”

I take another bite hoping he’ll keep talking.

He does. “My marriage was on shaky ground by then. The job ate me up and spit me out. I hit the bottle pretty hard after the verdict came down. Wife left me and I stayed in the dumps for weeks. Then I heard that Maxwell Taylor was missing.”

“Shit, Maxwell Taylor was your case?” I remembered it from the news. Woman after woman took the stand and said they slept with Maxwell and he was a complete gentleman. He never denied sleeping with the murdered woman. Said he wanted to try something different and pay for sex. His story is that he left the escort alive and well. It also accounted for his DNA being at the scene.

“Yep, that was mine. The fucker had it planned from beginning to end and he got away with it. He was a smug bastard the entire trial.”

“So he disappeared,” I prompted.

“I had no doubt who made him disappear. None at all. I turned in my badge because the thought that Max got what he deserved didn’t bother me in the slightest. To this day, I hope he suffered.”

“How did you end up with Moon?”

“I approached him. Figured he would think I was working undercover but what the hell. My wife took me to the cleaners. She deserved everything she got too. I lived for the job. The job didn’t live for me. I’m just happy she never wanted kids. That would have been rough.” He takes a pull from his drink. “Took a while before an opportunity came up and I could prove myself to Moon. I won’t go into detail; an undercover cop could never have done what I did to prove myself to Moon. You were a cop. You know that Hollywood makes it look like you can use drugs and kill if you’re undercover, when the truth is you’ll be prosecuted too.”

I did know that, and I also know I don’t want to know what he did. “What about the drugs and guns? That bother you?”

“Some. More so in the beginning. I never put a dent in drug activity as a cop. Petty stuff, yes. You know this too. If you want to run Moon’s product, you don’t deal to kids. Or anyone else who deals to kids. He’s strict and makes an example from time to time. You want to work Moon’s territory, you follow his rules.”

“What do you think about dirty cops?”