Mine to Hold (30 page)

Dialing her cell phone’s voice mail number from Tyler’s phone, she retrieved her messages, including one from Lisa that had her near tears. She’d been one of her closest friends for two years, always there when she needed something. Del could always use more money, but she didn’t understand how Lisa had simply sold her out, knowing the people paying her would more than likely kill her.

She closed her eyes and deleted the message.

Two more incidental messages, and she heard what she needed. A muffled, hurried voice with a heavy Latin-American accent rambled on about Double T, Carlson, and all the “shit going down.” He didn’t leave his name or any details, but she’d figured out his identity based on the information he’d left. And he’d left a phone number for a restaurant in the Pico-Union district—a little hole-in-the-wall burger joint. He instructed her to call back on Thursday between seven and ten p.m.

Del winced. She was over a week late, and who knew if he’d talk to her anymore or if anyone there would even know to expect her. Still, she dialed.

On the seventh ring, a woman picked up and greeted her in Spanish. She knew only enough of the language to be dangerous.

“
Se habla Inglés?
” she asked hopefully, because that was about the extent of her Spanish.

“Of course,” the heavily accented voice on the other end of the line answered.

Crap, how did one ask for a known gang member over the phone? “I received a voice mail from a man asking me to call here. I’m a reporter for the
L.A. Times
. The man didn’t identify himself but said he had information I needed and he was willing to share.”

The woman started sobbing and babbling incoherent curses in Spanish. Del recognized a few street terms that made her wince.

“I’m sorry if I’ve caused a problem. I’ll call back.”

“No, it is not you who causes the problem, yes? It is my son.”

“Your son? Is he called Lobato Loco by all the other . . . homies?” God, she hoped that asking the question wasn’t going to upset this woman more.

“That name is
estúpido
! Esteban was a good boy until all those others come around. Now he gets into all the guns and the drugs.”

“I understand, señora. Is there another way I should reach him?”

The woman sniffled and rattled off ten digits. “This is his phone number.”

Del jotted it down, thanked her, and ended the call, then ran for the office in the back of the massive house—and stopped abruptly to find Tyler singing into the computer, his rich baritone voice a deep, soothing presence in the room.

He lifted his head to stare at her and stopped abruptly.

Gripping the doorframe, she blinked, stared. She’d had no idea Tyler could sing so beautifully, such a haunting, gentle lullaby. “What are you doing?”

“Seth is asleep,” Alyssa’s voice sounded over the computer before he could answer. “That’s amazing.”

“Thanks.” Tyler flushed. “Glad I could help. We’ll call again tomorrow.” He quickly severed the connection with Alyssa, looking almost embarrassed. “What? It’s just a song.”

No. To Del, it was much more than that. He’d been singing their son to sleep, trying to be a father to Seth, even though they’d barely met and were over a thousand miles apart. A fresh bolt of love ripped through her chest. If she’d had any hope of getting through this tough time without losing her heart altogether, it had just died a fiery death. She closed her eyes.

“Is something wrong?” He pushed out of the chair that rolled across the floor. “Del?”

She blinked.
Focus, damn it!
“I have the number for my informant inside the 18th Street gang, someone who might be able to give us some information or proof—someone who can help us.”

Tyler smiled and patted his lap, indicating that she should sit there. “You’re brilliant. Let’s call.”

Chapter Fifteen

T
HREE
rings later, someone answered the phone.
“Bueno?”

The heavy beat of Latin dance music pounded in the background, and Del could hardly hear. “Esteban?”

“Quien habla?”
he barked.

Del thought he asked who was speaking. “I’m the reporter from the
Los Angeles Times
. You called and left a message a while ago?”

“
Sí
. I did.” He paused. “Took you long enough.”

Del was aware of Tyler hanging on her every word. He looked ready to grab the phone out of her hand and rip the guy on the other end a new one.

“Someone put a bomb in my car, and it exploded in front of my eyes. I’ve been shot at, escaped across the country and traveled back, and spent a lot of time just trying to stay alive.”

On Esteban’s side of the line, Del heard rustling. The music began to fade. Then she heard a door squeak once, twice, followed by blessed silence in the background.

“Carlson knows about you,” Esteban said. “You still want to take him down? You still want that information?”

“Yes.”
Desperately
.

“I got everything you need, names, details. If I get rid of him, then business goes back to usual, yeah? Meet me at midnight at Desnuda. It’s on Ninth. I’ll be inside the club, near the front.”

Del had no idea where or what that was, but she figured she could find it. “Sure.”

“Come alone,” he warned.

“I’ll be bringing a . . .” She stared at Tyler, trying to decide what to call him. She didn’t really want to define her complicated love life for a stranger. “Friend.”

Tyler’s expression didn’t change, but he froze. Then he looked away.

Damn, she’d upset him.

“He better not be a cop,” Esteban challenged. “Or there are consequences, you know?”

“He doesn’t even live in this area.” Del didn’t mention that Tyler used to be an LAPD Vice detective. At this point, she had to pray that they’d never seen him before or Esteban was likely to cut her cold.

Esteban let it go. “Wear tight jeans and red shoes. You look
hermosa
, yeah?”

Del thought that meant “pretty.” “I’ll try.”

“Order wine at the bar. You’ll stick out for sure.” He laughed.

But she feared the joke was on her. Still, she didn’t have much choice but to agree.

As soon as she hung up, Tyler frowned. “I don’t like it.”

“I don’t, either, but what are our more appealing options?” She shrugged. “None. Until midnight, I need to keep working. Let me see the computer, please.”

Tyler stepped away, letting her sit. The seat was warm, and his scent lingered everywhere, soothing her, even as her thoughts whirled and she longed to throw herself into his arms. Instead, she forced herself to concentrate on the task at hand.

“I need to send an untraceable e-mail. Any idea how?”

“Why?”

“I need to test Preston and find out if I can trust him. If my boss is at all in league with Carlson, I’d rather know it now than when it’s too late.

“Untraceable e-mails aren’t my area of expertise, but I know someone who can help.” Tyler called Deke. In less than five minutes, Deke had walked them through the process. Tyler gestured in her direction. “Type away.”

Quickly, she began composing an e-mail to her boss. Then stopped. “I need to talk to Xander.”

Tyler looked like he really wanted to object.

“It’s urgent,” Del assured.

With a curse, he handed over his phone. She flipped through the numbers and found the record that said
PRIVATE CALLER
. When she dialed, Xander answered on the first ring.

“Everything okay, Tyler?”

“It’s Delaney. If I wanted to . . . misdirect someone who might be playing for the dirty team to somewhere in town that’s being watched and has security, where would that be?”

“Cautious little cat, aren’t you? I like that,” he drawled. “Jot this address down. It’s a warehouse I own. Round-the-clock surveillance with state-of-the-art equipment. Logan and his brother, Hunter, made sure of that.”

“Perfect. Thanks! I owe you.”

“Hmm. Careful, or I might come around to collect.”

Tyler ripped the phone from her hand. “Over my dead fucking body. Back the hell off.”

With a laugh, Xander hung up.

Del rolled her eyes as she typed quickly. “He only does it to annoy you. It doesn’t mean anything to him.”

With a snort, Tyler sat on the edge of the desk and stewed.

She put the warehouse’s address in the e-mail to Preston, claiming that’s where she was hiding, then asked about any information he might have on Lisa’s murder. All done, she hit send. If he or a group of thugs showed up at the warehouse instead of answering via e-mail, she’d know that Preston was dirty. Now, all she could do was prepare for the coming night and hope that her upcoming chat with Esteban was the big break she needed.

***

TYLER
hated this whole plan. Going to visit a gangbanger on his home turf when they had no idea what they were walking into? Something like suicide, he feared. But no, he didn’t have a better idea. While Del showered, he had to fucking call Xander again because Del didn’t have any red shoes, and it was too risky to walk into a well-lit public place to shop. There’d be a lot of security cameras there. And who knew how many dirty cops Carlson had and if their beats included the mall?

He managed to force another few bites of food into Del before he hopped in the shower and readied himself for the meeting to come. He’d feel better with firepower and backup, but that wasn’t in the cards. Then Xander rang the doorbell.

Tyler pulled it open to find the man dressed casually in jeans and a clearly designer shirt. He dangled a pair of red fuck-me peep-toe pumps in one hand and had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Thanks for picking the shoes up.” Tyler reached out to take them.

“Not so fast.” Xander stepped into the house. “Javier is so predictable it’s making my head hurt. He was a complete disaster at Látigo. We’ll try again tomorrow night. In the meantime, you’re my ticket out of boredom.”

“You think you’re coming with us?”

“Yes.” Xander smiled wide. “I have experience with Desnuda and the guys who roll there. I can help. And I come bearing gifts.” He held out the shoes.

Del walked down the hall just then and grabbed them. “Oh my God, they’re beautiful.”

“They’re Christian Louboutin. Enjoy!”

“These are crazy expensive. Did you just have these hanging around?” Del frowned.

“No. I shopped. I tried to imagine the shoes you’d look sexiest in naked and bent over—”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Tyler growled.

Xander just laughed. “I brought you presents, too. Happy birthday.”

“My birthday is in September.” Tyler gritted his teeth.

“Then happy fuck-off day.” Xander shoved the duffel bag in his midsection.

As Tyler grasped it, the metallic sounds of the jostling contents told him immediately what lay inside. “Hardware.”

“A lot of it. A nice collection of semiautomatics, a sniper rifle or two, a few hand grenades—though I hope it doesn’t come to that since Desnuda is a decent club—and even a Corner Shot.”

Tyler gaped. As much as Xander got on his nerves, Tyler kind of loved the guy in that moment. “Wow, money really does buy everything.”

“Mostly.” Xander shrugged. “The rest . . . I’m still figuring out how to get.”

Unable to imagine anything Xander lacked or wanted for, Tyler shrugged. “Are we ready?”

Del nodded. “Yeah. I’m ready to go anywhere in shoes this fabulous. Thank you so much.”

She closed the distance between her and Xander and placed a kiss on his cheek. Xander wrapped his arm around her waist, looking like he hoped to bring her in for a big, juicy kiss. Tyler wasn’t having any of that.

He grabbed Xander’s shoulder, pinched hard on the nerve, then slammed him back into the front door. “Straight up? I appreciate your help, and we wouldn’t be doing this well without you. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you touch my woman.” Tyler got in the other man’s face and forced him to meet his stare. “Are we clear?”

“Tyler! Stop!” Del insisted, gaping at him in shock.

“That you’re a caveman? Absolutely. She’ll come to her senses soon and find me irresistible.” Xander shrugged free and winked at her.

Gritting his teeth, Tyler let him go. If not, he’d risk really pissing Del off. And given the bastard’s grin, Xander knew it.

“I’ve got a car outside,” the billionaire said. “Let’s go.”

Tyler slung the bag over his shoulder, then grabbed Del’s hand. Following Xander, they made their way out into the night air. It was crisp and light, with a hint of a cool breeze. Xander stopped beside a sleek black Audi so new it didn’t yet have license plates and opened the door for Del.

She bypassed the open door and climbed in the back. Tyler grinned as he slung the duffel onto the floorboard and eased into the passenger’s seat where Xander proffered the door open.

“Shithead,” he muttered, and slammed the door.

Within minutes, they were off, heading out of the hills and down into a seedy part of town. Clusters of older homes merged with liquor stores and pawnshops, flashing lights, ladies of the night, and drug deals going down everywhere. They parked in a shadowed lot behind an old stucco building. As Tyler tucked a couple of the Glocks into his waistband at the small of his back, he watched Del. He didn’t like the dark surrounding them or the cautious, tense expression on her face. Xander didn’t seem to notice as he grabbed a pistol, tucked it away, and led them around the side of the building, to the front door, painted a garish red. Tyler glanced behind him and stared at the club’s sign, then winced at the neon dancing woman edging red panties down over her ass.

This wasn’t a nightclub; it was a strip joint.

Xander stopped them before they could enter. “I’m going to walk in first, get the lay of the land. They’ve seen me here before, so I won’t stand out. If there’s anything wrong. I’ll call. If you haven’t heard from me in five minutes, the coast is clear.”

As much as Tyler wanted to object, the plan made sense. Del nodded.

The minute Xander disappeared inside, Tyler wrapped his arm around her waist and dragged her into the shadows, just in case Lobato Loco had sold her out, too. He wished he could tell her that they didn’t have to do this, but that would be a lie. Her life literally depended on this, and there was no way around it until they could prove how dirty Carlson was.

Del stood stiffly against him. “I’m way out of my element. I don’t like it.”

“I’m here for you. I’ll keep you safe.”

Gnawing on her lip, Del nodded. She looked so nervous, and Tyler just wanted to wrap her up and hide her away. It wasn’t in the cards.

After five minutes, they hadn’t heard from Xander, so Tyler led her into the club. It wasn’t upscale in the least, and he wondered why a billionaire came here for kicks. The music was loud, and everything smelled steeped in alcohol, with a slight tinge of musty underneath. A pretty Latina woman danced on the stage, wearing only a spangled thong. She dragged a sheer red scarf back and forth, across her hard, rosy brown nipple. Seen it, fucked it. Not this particular woman, but after a while, women like her were all the same.

Rolling her eyes, Del eased over to the bar and ordered a white wine. The bartender looked at her like she was crazy, but shrugged and poured her a glass. She looked around the room then and spotted Xander, who looked engrossed in the journey that red scarf was taking around the stripper’s body.

Tyler approached her, and he felt Del’s tension as she scanned the room for her contact. He glanced at his cell phone. They were still a few minutes early. Maybe Lobato Loco wanted to make a big entrance.

“We should sit toward the front, someplace visible so he sees you when he comes in.”

Del clearly didn’t like it, but she nodded. Together they found a table in the front corner of the room. She crossed her legs, and those red shoes were like a beacon in the club. No way any man entering could miss those long, slender thighs and those shoes so provocative, they were an X-rated invitation all their own. Tyler sat closer to her, threw an arm around her shoulders, wanting every bastard in the joint to know exactly who she belonged to. Behind them, he could almost feel Xander laughing.

Five minutes slid into ten. The woman with the scarf was replaced by a naughty nurse, then a cowgirl who made chaps look downright indecent. A few years ago—hell, two weeks ago—he would have grinned and whistled, coughed up a twenty, and hoped for a little action later. And how fucking pathetic was that? He’d been using sex like a drug so he didn’t have to confront how lonely he’d been without Del.

At the twenty-minute mark, Del had finished sipping her wine and was looking around for her contact. Still nothing—except the painted-up beauty who’d wielded the scarves earlier headed in their direction. She wriggled her curves in between him and Del.