“Check into the gyms, like you said. Tell the police if you want, but I want you to do it yourself too.”
They wouldn't be happy about me nosing in their investigation, but doing nothing bothered me more. “I suppose I could see if anyone recognizes him. Maybe I could get a name.”
“See? Better work than the police and it’s not even nine in the morning,” Devlin said, looking pleased with himself.
I couldn't deny that a part of me wanted to do as Devlin said and find these fuckers myself, but there was a good reason I couldn't.
“Leighton still needs protection, maybe now more than ever,” I said. “Not only did she escape, but she practically taunted her kidnappers on camera last night.”
“Last night's event was the exception for Leighton at the moment,” Devlin countered. “She's planning to redecorate the pool house over the next few days.”
“She had fun last night,” I said. “What makes you think she won't change her mind about staying here? Someone needs to stick close to her.”
Devlin sat back in his leather desk chair and gave me a knowing smile. “I understand your concern, but this threat needs to be stopped once and for all.”
Devlin was right, and I knew there was no way around it. The only thing stopping me from going now was the thought of seeing Leighton, of knowing she was okay. I knew that was part of the reason I was pushing myself so hard to be with her all the time. It wasn't even that I didn't trust the other security guards. I just had to be near her, had to know without a doubt that she was okay.
But the best way to ensure that she was safe was to eliminate the threat.
“I think we can agree that leaving the grounds with a temporary bodyguard is out of the question,” I said, my resolve weakening. “Will you be the one who tells Leighton she's under house arrest if I'm not around to escort her?”
“Good point,” Devlin said. “Too bad she didn't hit it off with Bastian. He's got a posse of security guards.”
“She didn't?” I tried to ignore the surge of hope that went through me. “I mean, I thought they looked good together.”
“Seems he's not really her type.” Devlin gave me a knowing look. “Who knew my granddaughter was looking for more than tall, dark, and insanely rich?” He paused for a beat and then continued, “Or maybe she just has her eye on someone specific.”
I didn't take the bait. “So what do we do? She won't be happy if she thinks we're making all these decisions for her.”
“I can pull my security from work,” Devlin said. “I'll tell her I think we should have the grounds even more secure with all the paparazzi around.”
“I won't be gone long,” I said as I stood.
“I like your confidence.” He came around his desk. “A piece of advice, Haze. Or maybe it's a request. Don't give up on Leighton. You're better for her than you know. You two could make each other happy if you'll just take the chance.”
I nodded as he put his hand on my shoulder. I knew he meant well, but he didn't understand what he was asking. Besides, no matter what he thought, I didn't think happiness was in the cards for me.
The least I could do, though, was try to give it to this family.
Chapter 11
Haze
The lead I had on the fake bartender was thin, and every time I was in the car, I racked my brain for new ideas. And I was in the car a lot, covering miles and miles of LA as I visited the surprisingly long list of gyms that featured Krav Maga.
I'd narrowed down the possibilities by eliminating the more trendy places. The man I'd encountered didn't seem to blend with the sort of people who'd go there. Even the shorter list, however, was still long enough that I couldn't cover them all in a single day.
I got out of the car at the fifth gym, wishing I could figure out some other way to find Leighton's kidnapper. Some way that would've allowed me to stay with her, even though I knew it was a bad idea.
The converted car dealership had large plate glass windows, and when I walked up, I checked the address. Twenty small children were bowing to their teacher and beginning a Kung Fu class. At least three mothers glanced at me through the window, and I offered polite smiles in response to their interested perusals.
When I entered, I made a point of not looking at them. The last thing I needed right now was to waste time deflecting flirtations. I went straight to the receptionist.
“Hi, do you offer adult classes here?” I asked.
The receptionist was a smiley young blonde with lots of cleavage on display. Cleavage that she was clearly hoping I'd show an interest in. “Most of our classes are by skill level, not by age. What are you interested in?”
“I'm actually looking for a man I met briefly. All I know is he raved about how amazing his Krav Maga training was.” I smiled. “And he had the body to prove it.”
The blonde flipped her hair over her shoulder, her buoyant expression deflating at my deliberate misdirect. “We have a small group that practices here in the evenings, but if your dreamboat is serious about it, I bet he goes to Axis Gym.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I said.
I walked back out to my car and resisted the urge to kick it. I'd been in the car exactly sixteen hours over the last day and a half, and I was sick of driving. Still, I wanted to follow up on the only lead I'd gotten.
Axis Gym turned out to be a Spartan training space housed in an old warehouse. Two boxing rings, free weights, a row of punching bags, and a wide matted area for sparring were laid out without any flair. The place was clean, but not flashy. The warehouse walls were bare except for a handful of fight posters. There was no music, nothing to distract from the sounds of punching, kicking, general physical activity.
As soon as I stepped in the door, I could feel the other men sizing me up, and not in the same way as the other women. A man equal to me in height, but slimmer in the shoulders, strode up to me. The way he moved warned me that his lack of bulk would be an advantage in a fight. I didn't flinch, but I didn't relax either.
“I'm gonna say army, right?” he asked.
I nodded. “Correct.”
“Brushing up on skills, or just looking for a place to work out?” He led me over to the matted sparring area.
“Actually I'm interested in your Krav Maga classes. I'm looking for a buddy of mine who might train with you,” I said.
“Well, that's easy,” the lithe man said, his eyes narrowing. “Pin me to the mat, and I'll give you the information you're looking for.”
I nodded, setting my keys and wallet down as I ran through a plan in my head. I was looking forward to blowing off a little steam, but I wasn't about to underestimate this guy.
As I faced him, I knew the first move had to be mine. I opted for a clumsy rush. The less he suspected of my skills, the better. My weight carried us down onto the mat, but he twisted away before we hit. I surprised him with a roll, and we came up to face each other again. I was pleased to note that the world didn’t spin around me.
“You're not just a basic army grunt, huh?” he asked.
I answered with a lunge, and we connected hard. The man was quick, and his slim frame gave a lightning edge to all his moves. He was good, but I felt myself slipping back into a familiar skin. A soldier with a job to do. He was a threat to put down, and within sixty seconds, I had him on the mat, one arm tight behind his back and about to break.
“Special Forces?” he gasped against the mat.
“Yes.” I released his arm and held out a hand. “Now, about my friend.”
A small ring of men had gravitated toward our sparring. I met a few respectful nods, and then saw him. The guy I'd been trying to find was now walking toward the door, attempting to hide behind punching bags as he went.
“Never mind.” I managed to keep my voice calm. “I see him right over there.”
I didn't know if it the others felt the tension in my body as I started toward my goal, or if the guys just didn't like the asshole any better than I did, but a pair of men
stepped in front of my target before he reached the door. They were intimidating enough that the bartender wasn't going to try going through them.
“Lennon, this man here wants to talk to you,” my sparring partner said.
“Yeah, well, I don't know him.” Lennon shifted weight from one foot to the other, his eyes cast down as he turned toward me.
“Oh, come on, Lennon. We both know that's not true,” I said as I walked over to him. “We might not have talked very much, but I'd say we got to know each other pretty well.”
He rubbed the shoulder I had thrown him down on when I was rescuing Leighton. “I don't know nothing.”
“How about you just go ahead and share whatever you feel like, then I'll ask questions.” I crossed my arms over my chest, appreciating the help I was getting from the pair flanking Lennon. Judging by their bearing, they were military too.
Lennon looked at me, then at the men on either side of him. I saw the moment he surrendered. “I got the gig through the newspaper, someone asking for a bodyguard. When they emailed me, the offer was for cash, all anonymous. I never saw who hired me, it was all done through a mediator.”
“And where do I find this mediator?” I asked.
“It wasn't an actual person,” Lennon said. “It was a coffee shop. I'd go there and wait for a drink to be sent over. It'd come with an envelope of instructions, and the first half of the cash.”
“What about the other person with you in the basement?” I stepped forward and Lennon stepped back.
“I told you enough, and now I'm leaving.”
Before I could say anything, Lennon unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and showed me a gun in his waistband.
Shit.
His hand was shaking and I wondered if it was nerves or if he had another reason to be so twitchy. Either way, there was no way I wanted his hands anywhere near a loaded gun.
So much for making a citizen's arrest and then holding him for the police. I was pretty sure I could disarm him without him getting to the gun, but I wasn't going to take that risk with all these men around me. I wasn't going to put them at risk. I'd just have to hope the cops could find him again.
Lennon slipped out the side door without another word. When he was gone, my sparring partner directed me to Lennon's locker and then left me alone to do whatever I had to do.
The lock was easily broken, and I rifled through the dingy belongings. It was mostly dirty clothes and a couple magazines that were a little too kinky for me. Finally, tucked inside the pocket of his jeans, I found a faded receipt for Silverlake Java.
I stuck it in my pocket. Part of me wanted to go right away, but I knew I needed to keep Devlin updated, and that I should probably clue in the cops. Heading back to the house had nothing to do with seeing Leighton.
Really.
Devlin called to me while I was still outside. I went straight to his office, but I couldn't stop myself from looking around, trying to spot Leighton. I hadn't heard anything coming from the pool house, so I was starting to suspect she'd taken advantage of me being away and left.
“Shandra is spoiling Leighton with lobster bisque for a late lunch,” Devlin said as soon as I walked into his office.
With that news, I relaxed enough to sit down, though I really wanted to continue to the kitchen and seen Leighton for myself. Being away from her so long was making me feel restless.
Still, I had a job to do.
“My lead panned out, and I found the fake bartender.”
Devlin stopped mid-step.
“He had a gun, and there were people around, so I couldn't take him down.”
“Are you okay?” Devlin's eyes narrowed.
Was he worried about me? The thought was strange, but not unwelcome. I'd expected frustration from him that I hadn't been able to bring Lennon in. Not at me, but at the circumstances at least.
“I'm fine. In fact, I got a name for the police if you want to share with them. Lennon Miles,” I said. “Though I think it might be a good idea to say that you got it from one of your contacts rather than me. I don't think they'd take too kindly to me having found it before them.”
Devlin nodded. “You're probably right.”
“I did get another lead,” I continued. “Do you want me to share that too, or do you want me to pursue it?”
“I think you're doing quite well on your own,” he said. “I'll trust you to share what I need to know.”
I nodded, and then asked, “How have things been around here?”
Devlin followed my gaze to the door and smiled. “Leighton's fine, Haze. She hasn't even mentioned leaving the house.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And you think that's fine? It doesn't sound like she's back to normal.”
“I don't think she’s trying to get back to normal,” he said, walking over to the French doors and looking outside. “I think my granddaughter is trying to reassess what she wants to do and who she wants to be.”
My stomach clenched at the words.
“I don't have anything else.” He didn't look at me as I stood up.
He knew where I was going.
Leighton's laugh stopped me half-way down the hall. Devlin's words echoed in my head. If Leighton was indeed trying to move on instead of getting back to the way things had been, then I was nothing more than a constant reminder of the worst times, the times she was trying to get past. The person she didn't want to be anymore.
I turned around and headed back to my place. After all the hours I'd spent in the car, I needed a shower. Maybe a nap since I knew Leighton was in good hands at the moment. Shandra scared the shit out of me. I had no doubt she'd be able to protect Leighton if necessary. Besides, the last thing I needed was to see Leighton go from being happy and comfortable to stiff and distant, all because I'd walked in the room. I knew she could do anything she put her mind to, but I didn't need to make it harder on her.
The shower was welcome, relaxing me enough to snag a couple hours of shut-eye, but hunger drove me from the guest house a few hours later. I planned to slip through the gardens and into the pantry, a quick in and out without being seen. Shandra had stocked one shelf with extra food supplies for me, but I'd kept forgetting to bring it to the guest house. I was going to grab a box of pasta and a frozen steak and head back to my place for dinner.
“Look out!” Leighton called from behind me,
I stopped just before I walked right into the path of her demolition team. With a start, I saw that the pool house was now missing an entire wall. When Devlin said she was remodeling, I'd imagined something like her previous projects. Lots of paint and throw pillows.
“It'll look a lot better once this wall is Roman columns instead,” Leighton said, her tone light.
I stepped around the debris and tried to keep going without looking at her. “I'm sure it will be great.”
Leighton tossed her head, but her curls were tied back. “I know it seems like a stupid, trivial thing to someone like you. Just a rich girl playing house.”
I instantly regretted how dismissive I must've sounded. What she was doing here was amazing. She had a natural talent for design and interior decoration. I'd seen that already. But she also had a deft touch with contractors, workers, and artists. None of the people working here were treating her with anything less than respect. Standing next to her project, she was a natural-born leader, but even as I watched, she curled her arms around her waist and slumped.
“I get it,” she said quietly. “You think I'm just spending all this money for fun, keeping myself from getting bored while I'm here.”
“Why are you here?” I asked, curious. “Don't you want to be out shopping or going to lunch or dancing or something?”
Her head jerked up, eyes flashing. “That's all I'm good at, right? I would've thought you'd be enjoying the break from baby-sitting.”
I followed her as she stalked away. She was using the old tiki bar as a desk, and on top of a pile of tile samples and swatches was a piece of paper. I picked it up be
fore Leighton could snatch it away from me, and was surprised to see an elegant sketch.
“I didn't know you could draw like this,” I said, stunned.
“Guess you don't know me as well as you think.”
The sketch was done in light colored pencil and showed the renovated pool house. The front wall was four large Roman columns with large sheer curtains draped between. Wide sofas with a faded nautical blue and white stripe faced each other on either side of a large gilded coffee table. The back half was divided into two dressing rooms, the doorways curving like large seashells.
“You have real talent,” I said, ignoring her comment.
“It looks like a third grader drew it.” She snatched the sketch away from me and turned to go to the main house.
Hell no.
I caught her waist and spun her around. The moment her eyes flew up to meet mine, I forgot what I planned to say. My mind jumped to kissing her hand after the premiere, to holding her in bed, our bodies curled tightly together, to her smiling up at me the first time we met.
I let go as if I'd been burned. “You need to learn to take a compliment, Leighton. I don't say things I don't mean.”
“Sure you don't.” She spun around and was gone before I could stop her.
I didn't try to go after her. What good would it do? I couldn't tell her how I really felt. What I could do was leave her alone.
Avoiding anyone else, I retrieved my food supplies and headed back to my place. I needed to stop thinking about Leighton and getting back to work seemed like a good way to do that. So, after eating, I studied the coffee shop receipt more carefully. The time stamp was for early morning, and while it was possible the person I wanted to speak to didn't have a set schedule, it made more sense to wait.
The negative side to a couple hours off was that my brain kept wanting to veer back to Leighton. So I worked out. I caught up on emails. I flipped through the channels on the flat screen television, but time was moving too slowly, and I couldn't even come close to sleeping. By the time it was midnight, I was still wide awake and restless.
Leighton and her team had ceased work before dinner. With nothing else to do, I wandered through the garden to see their progress. I stood by the pool house, letting myself see what Leighton saw. The night was quiet and, for the first time in a while, I felt hopeful of what the future might hold.