Slow Heat (29 page)

There was a bar to his right with the lights dimmed, giving privacy to the rich barflies. Micah continued walking to a quiet, spacious dining area. A young cute thing blushed when he approached and batted long, thick lashes at him.

“May I help you, sir?” she asked, looking too damn innocent for her own good.

Micah pictured Maggie tangled in his sheets back at his house and, once again, ached to be back there with her. Hopefully he’d be able to return before she woke up.

“I’m here to meet Mr. Ramone.”

“Yes.” She nodded and turned to look at something on the podium next to her. “He’s this way, sir.”

Micah followed her, letting his attention drop to the sensual sway of her very round ass in tight white slacks. Like most girls her age, she had a deep golden tan, and her sun-drenched blonde hair fell straight down her back. He’d put her somewhere around eighteen. By the time she was forty she’d be as dried up and wrinkled as a raisin.

They didn’t enter the spacious dining area; instead Micah followed the girl around a corner. She paused as they headed down a wide hallway and tapped on a door that was barely noticeable in the wall. That’s when Micah noticed there were doors lining the hallway on both sides. The young girl opened the door and gestured for Micah to enter.

“Bring us more coffee, Lacey,” Perry said cheerily. He sat at a large round table reading a newspaper and sporting a hideous yellow polo shirt and pale yellow slacks that were just as ugly. The color choice did nothing for his already pale complexion. “And Mr. Jones will prefer a more traditional breakfast. Sausage, bacon, eggs, toast, pancakes,” Perry rambled and waved his hand in the air. “Did I forget anything?” Perry asked Micah.

Micah took a chair facing Perry. He looked at Lacey, who remained at the door. “No pancakes,” he told her and gave her a wink.

There would always be some warped pleasure in making young girls blush. She was out of his mind before she’d closed the door, though. Micah sat with his back to a glass wall. On the other side of it an indoor tropical rain forest provided one hell of a view.

“The crime rate in this town is terrifying,” Perry said and made a tsking sound as he turned the page in the newspaper.

“Maybe LAPD should focus harder on lowering the crime rate.” Micah didn’t look at Perry but played with the corner of his cloth napkin.

Perry put down the paper. “Right there is the gross misperception of so many people in this town,” he said, leaning forward in his chair and sounding excited about the topic of conversation. “Something goes wrong and we’re so quick to blame our men and women in blue.” He wagged a long, thin finger at Micah. “The LAPD takes a bad rap for so much. Quite often they aren’t at fault.”

Micah leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, willing to hear Perry out. The man would always paint a lavish story in which he would give Micah the information he wanted. Micah had never asked why but he guessed it was in case someone was listening in on their conversation. They’d have one hell of a time figuring out what Perry was talking about.

“Now I say lay blame where blame is due.” Perry narrowed his gaze on Micah, and lines appeared around his eyes. The man was looking a bit more weathered lately. Maybe his job was taking its toll on him. “I was just reading this article in the paper.” He stabbed the newspaper that he’d put down on the table with his finger. “Some money-laundering racket is baffling the local police. But they are giving it their all. I read between the lines, my friend. I have heard the rumors of how some think the police might be letting information slide. Not true!”

“What do you think is going on?” Micah asked.

He paused when there was a knock on their door and Lacey appeared with more coffee. She refilled Perry’s cup, poured Micah a cup, and left a carafe in the middle of the table. She then disappeared without a word. Micah saw why Perry chose this country club. These private rooms were ideal for conversation.

“There is an inside source,” Perry said, leaning forward as he lowered his voice. “But it’s not the police.”

Micah lifted his cup and blew on the hot coffee. “Interesting theory,” he murmured, truly wishing that Detective Osborne had been dirty. He’d love taking the asshole down.

“The cops believe the same thing, so they are sticking real close to anyone who might have been connected with that nightclub.”

Micah studied Perry over his cup. Steam lingered in front of his face, and the rich smell of the expensive brew helped wake him up. He drank, enduring the hot liquid as it sank inside him. He had more than a few sore muscles today and hoped Maggie didn’t wake up any worse for wear than he had.

“Now, my friend, my theory is this,” Perry said, and paused, also sipping, then leaned back in his chair, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Good coffee,” he murmured. “But anyway, I think the police believed they had arrested their man until the laundering didn’t stop.”

“It didn’t?”

“Nope.” Perry shook his head. “Recent developments revealed new activity coming across the border. So do they have the right man in jail?” Perry nodded. “He was most definitely in on it. But someone has taken his place and kept the ball rolling. That person isn’t as important as whoever put that replacement person where he is.”

“Who did?” Micah willed Perry to get to the point.

Perry leaned forward again and whispered, “I believe a city official is involved. I haven’t narrowed it down to which one.”

So that was the news. Perry had called him in to let him know the detective was clean. The culprit had yet to be named, though. Micah couldn’t wait to put whoever it was who had let Maggie take the rap for his crimes out of his miserable existence.

“Oh yeah, and why do you make me waste my time on people who are so Goddamn squeaky-clean?” Perry complained. “Your employers were beyond boring and I really do think I’m going to charge you an annoyance fee. My skills aren’t to be wasted.”

Micah nodded once. “Sometimes we need to know who the good people are.”

“A bit of common sense always worked for me.”

Micah seriously doubted Perry took anyone at face value. Their young hostess appeared, again tapping gently on the door, then opening it without waiting for anyone to give her permission to enter. Two waiters carrying trays entered and breakfast items were spread out on the table. There was enough food to feed ten people, if not more, steaming before them with mixed aromas that quickly woke up Micah’s stomach.

He suddenly wished he was sharing a breakfast like this with Maggie. Micah imagined her sitting across from him, her hair unbrushed and tousled around her face. Her cheeks would be pink still from sleep and her smile sheepish as they stared at each other and remembered the sex from the night before.

Micah never knew a lady would enjoy anal sex as much as Maggie had. She wasn’t putting on an act to impress him, either. He doubted thoughts like that even entered Maggie’s brain. She was honest and sincere to a fault, the exact opposite of him. Maybe that was the reason for the strong attraction. Micah had finally found a woman who was the yin to his yang. Maggie worked her books honestly at the club. She believed there was good in everyone and approached them as if there were. When she had a new thought, she wanted to share it. If she liked someone, she told them. And if someone pissed her off, Maggie had a temper to take on the best of them.

Micah pulled himself out of his thoughts, worried for a moment that dwelling on Maggie might have actually made him smile. Some of her comments the night before had been so spontaneous, so open and humorous, she’d made him laugh. Micah didn’t laugh. He didn’t smile. But then, he didn’t get lost in thought during breakfast over the woman he’d been with the night before.

His phone hadn’t received a text message telling him someone had left his house. Maggie was still there. Micah had a hard time fighting off the urge to hurry this meeting up and race back home. Climbing back into bed with Maggie sounded a lot more pleasurable than listening to Perry rant and pulling out the information he needed from the man.

So far, he’d learned the Kings were clean, something he’d pretty much already concluded. But with the suspicious behavior around that detective, Micah needed proof. He’d also learned that Perry was inclined to believe whoever was behind the Club Paradise money laundering was right here in the city, in LA. Micah might have guessed a drug lord in Mexico. He also suspected that a few cops might be padding their measly paychecks with some serious bucks. Neither appeared to be the case. Perry hadn’t clarified but Micah would love to know why he believed the backbone of the operation was a city official.

“Micah,” Perry said softly, but firmly.

Micah realized he was poking his fork into the yolk of his eggs while his thoughts got the best of him. He raised his head slowly, unwilling to give Perry the satisfaction of snapping him out of his thoughts.

“I have a message for you.”

“What?” He picked up a sausage link and put the whole thing in his mouth.

“You’re going to take a trip today.”

“Oh yeah?” The only place he planned on heading was back to his house and to Maggie.

“Yes,” Perry said firmly. He dug into his pants pocket and pulled out a business card. “You’re going to Santa Clarita. It’s not too far north, shouldn’t take you more than an hour to get there. Here is the address. You can thank me later.”

Micah took the card and Perry leaned back, studying his fingernails. He didn’t show any interest in the many serving dishes between them, all full of delicious-looking food.

“What’s this?” he demanded, turning the card over and staring at the address. There was a street address, then Room 212. It looked like the address to a hotel.

“There aren’t many people who know how to reach me directly.” Perry gave Micah a pointed look. “Those who do know how much I appreciate discretion. I offer the same to everyone I spend time with.”

Micah tried making sense out of what the man was saying.

“Therefore, if someone contacts me and asks if I’ve spoken with someone else, I wouldn’t tell them. It’s a courtesy, and one I appreciate in return.”

“Okay,” Micah said slowly.

Perry nodded at the card in Micah’s hand. “You should probably head out soon. If I understand right, they will only be at that address for the rest of today.”

“They?” Micah asked.

“Yes.”

Micah studied the card. Someone had asked Perry if they could reach him. Someone who knew how to contact Perry the same way Micah did. Perry wouldn’t tell this person if he had spoken with Micah or not, but had apparently taken down information from this person in case he did speak with Micah. He was now passing this information on.

“Now understand,” Perry said, using his gentle, friendly tone. “I’m not an answering service. I don’t make it a habit of relaying messages. But I am privy to some information that most might not know. Such as the reason you’re here in LA by yourself.”

Micah looked up at him, his appetite suddenly gone. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying go to that address. Leave soon. Enjoy your reunion on me but know I don’t make a habit of bringing people together.”

“People together,” Micah murmured. He suddenly got it. Staring at the card for another moment, he then looked across the table at Perry. “My dad and uncle.”

Perry nodded. “Get going.”

There would be no heading back to the house to crawl into bed with Maggie. Micah had considered for a moment stopping there to let her know he might be gone for a while. He refused to give himself the privilege. It would have sounded too much like they were a couple. Micah needed to clear his head. The drive up to Santa Clarita would do him good. Micah would help Maggie figure out who was really doing the money laundering, clear her name, then he would have to move on. Helping her had compromised his location and the entire reason he’d come to LA. Micah would have to find another town to hide out in for the remaining months until he could seek out the men who’d ordered the hit on that CIA agent.

*   *   *

The address was to a nice hotel in Santa Clarita, which appeared to be a clean, laid-back community, so unlike the fast-paced lifestyle of LA. Micah parked his bike in the parking lot, then entered the lavish hotel and walked through the lobby. The employees behind the front desk smiled at him, but didn’t question what he was doing there. He found the signs indicating where the rooms were and took a glass elevator to the second floor. The hallway opened to the fancy lobby below, but Micah focused on the room numbers until he reached Room 212. He knocked twice.

The door opened almost immediately and Micah stared at his father’s solemn expression. Micah got the overwhelming impression he’d done something wrong and entered the room, not turning around when his father closed the door and followed him.

“Micah,” his uncle Joe said, standing from where he’d been sitting at a round table with a laptop on it. His uncle tapped the mouse, probably closing out whatever he’d been doing, then approached Micah with open arms. “It is so good to see you.”

Jacob Mulligan, Micah’s father, came up behind the two of them and patted Micah on the back. Jacob and Joseph Mulligan, twins, weren’t identical, but there were times when their actions matched. Jacob, who seldom hugged anyone, took his turn wrapping his arms around Micah just as his uncle Joe had.

“How are you doing, boy?” his father asked quietly.

Micah straightened after the warm greeting and tugged his shirt. Both his father and uncle were studying him, drawing their own conclusions. Micah wondered what they might already know. He never thought for a moment either one of them would be ignorant of his actions. They never were.

“It’s been a long three months so far,” he told them truthfully.

“Almost four,” his father pointed out, then walked around Micah to stand behind the laptop where his uncle had been sitting. He focused on the screen. “Tell us about Maggie O’Malley.”

Micah sighed. They would, of course, know everything about what he’d been doing. Someday Micah would spend all of his time tracking their every move just to show them how it felt.