Hit and Run (Moreno & Hart Mysteries) Page 7

  She grabbed Alex’s shirt because she didn’t know what had happened to hers. She breathed deeply. She loved his scent, loved being in his bed and wearing his clothes.

  This was no good. She was getting attached, and getting attached never turned out well for her. She squeezed back the emotions because they surprised her. She wasn’t emotional. Hot-headed, maybe, but not emotional. What was it about Alex that hit her so hard?

  She stepped out of Alex’s bedroom into the living room. He lived in a one-bedroom apartment practically walking distance to the Newport Beach Police Station, off Jamboree. She blinked rapidly when she saw the familiar face with the familiar voice.

  “John?” How did her brother know she was here?

  Alex handed her a cup of coffee. “I answered your phone. He was at your apartment.”

  “You were at my apartment?” She couldn’t be hearing right. Why was her brother at her apartment? She sipped the coffee.

  “I expected you to be there.” He shuffled uncomfortably. John Moreno was two years younger than her and what any sane women would call a hot cop. He lived and breathed his job, and Scarlet loved him for it ... even though they hadn't been on the same page when she quit three years ago.

  That was water under the bridge ... for now.

  “Well, I guess introductions are in order. John, meet Detective Alex Bishop. Alex, meet my brother, Detective John Moreno.” She drank more coffee. It was good. Very good.

  “We met five minutes ago,” Alex said.

  “I told Dad to tell you I was fine.”

  “He did. But you should have returned my calls.”

  “Yesterday was a real shitty day.”

  Alex said, “John, would you like some coffee?”

  “He’s not staying,” Scarlet said.

  “Thanks,” John nodded.

  She rolled her eyes and sat on the edge of the counter. Alex refreshed his own cup, and brought John one.

  “How deep are you in this mess?” John asked her.

  "I'm fine."

  "That's not what the word is."

  "And I don't need you adding to the word. I'm fine. I had a heart-to-heart with Kyle Richardson. He knows that Jason was set up. At least, I think he’s inclined to believe his statement. But right now it's just us who know that."

  "You have to stand down. This is a dangerous situation."

  "I know. I was shot at yesterday and nearly burned alive."

  John winced.

  "It wasn't the first time," she snapped. Why was she being so bitchy? John was worried, just like her dad. Just like Alex, but he hadn’t pushed her buttons yet. "John, I know what I'm doing." Sort of. "Tell me my faith in Kyle Richardson isn't unfounded."

  He sat down on one of the three barstools Alex had. He didn’t have a table yet. He’d told Scarlet the first time she came over that the apartment was temporary. He wanted to buy a small house, but the prices in Newport Beach were astronomical.

  "Richardson is solid. By the book. Clean. Some people call him the Reverend because he doesn’t drink and is truly in love with his wife."

  She relaxed. She'd thought the same, especially after yesterday. Having it confirmed by John helped. "He found a tracking device on Jason's motorcycle. Do you know anything about that?"

  "No."

  “Do you know anything about Armor Plus?”

  “Enough to know you need to stay away from them.”

  “What’s with them? Are they a bunch of vigilantes? Bad guys? One of their people tried to kill Jason and me!”

  “I know!” John slammed his coffee mug on the tile counter. Black coffee sloshed over the top. He worked to control his temper. His expression was so much like her own Scarlet realized. This was her brother, and she loved him.

  She visibly relaxed. She put her hand over John’s. “John,” she said softly, “you know me. I can’t let this go. If Jason called you, you would be doing the same thing.”

  “Why did he call you instead of me?”

  “Because I’m not a cop anymore. He didn’t want a cop. Or to risk your job.”

  “It has to be more than that.”

  “It’s not.”

  Alex cleared his throat.

  She frowned. “Do you have something to say?”

  “No.”

  His no certainly sounded like a yes.

  It didn’t take John more than a minute to put it together. “It’s because of what happened three years ago, isn’t it? Dammit, Scarlet, I told you to leave that alone!”

  “I am.” Sort of. “This is different. But Jason knows I’m not going to buy the LAPD party line. I know firsthand that they’re not going to back up a cop’s word just because he’s a cop. The bad apples with badges have ruined it for all of us. Jason is in trouble, and it’s coming from inside his precinct. If I can’t help him because I’m too scared, then I shouldn’t be here.”

  Alex said, “John, what if it had been you who was shot in the back three years ago? Would you have just forgotten about it?”

  “What do you know? You’ve been sleeping with my sister for what, a month? If that? You don’t know my family.”

  Scarlet didn’t know whether to slap him or blush fifty shades of red. “John Joseph!”

  He jerked his head toward her, startled, then looked down.

  “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about Jason. And Gina Perez. I didn’t know her, but she was a cop, Jason loved her, and now she’s dead because she found something bad. She told Jason she couldn’t go to their boss because she didn’t trust him. What do you know about Sergeant Tony Mercer?”

  “Mercer?” The name seemed to surprise John. “He’s rising through the ranks. Ex-military, personable, good cop, for the most part.”

  “What does that mean? For the most part?”

  “Word is that if you’re a cop and you’re having problems, Mercer’s the guy who can help.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “You know. Drinking. Discipline issues. There’s always a few. I’m not condoning it. It is what it is. Mercer seems to know everyone who’s worth knowing.”

  “What about Gina Perez? Did you know her?”

  “Met her a couple of time with Jason, but I didn’t know her well. A spitfire, Dad would call her. Good cop. Got her wrist slapped a while back for evidence tampering.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Jason told me. He says she didn’t do it, but signed a statement saying she made a mistake so that she wouldn’t lose her badge. Suspended for thirty days, no pay. It was early in her career, she’d been a rookie. Before she met Jason.”

  “She went through the Academy with Mercer.”

  “I don’t see where this is going,” John said.

  “I do,” Alex said.

  Scarlet loved that Alex was on the same wavelength as her. “It makes sense,” she said. “Gina was suspicious of Mercer. Scared about something. Saw something she wasn’t supposed to. Calls Jason. Tells him she has something to show him. He goes to her, she’s dead. He sees a cop fleeing the scene—plainclothes, badge on his belt. He makes his statement, then gets run off the road. Takes him over two hours to get home, by that time the bad guys plant a GPS on his bike, but before they can get to him in Long Beach, SWAT is called in.”

  “I don’t want to hear about Long Beach,” John said quietly and Scarlet realized her slip. She hadn’t come clean with Richardson that she’d met with Jason at his sister’s house, which meant that if she told John, he would either have to tell or risk a reprimand for withholding information.

  “Jason drove around for a while, settled into the empty house in Topanga. Called me. Agreed to turn himself into Richardson, and while I’m on the phone with the detective, we’re shot at. They were waiting—maybe they needed to put together a team, or for orders, or—”

  “Or maybe they were waiting for you,” John said. “You’re a dog with a bone, and within eight hours of your conversation with Richardson Saturday night, half the force kn
ew you were at Leah’s house. Remember, you and Krista recently took down those two corrupt LAPD cops. They’re still in jail, awaiting trial. It had to be done, but that doesn’t endear you to your former colleagues. And Mercer went to the Academy with Sykes—they graduated the same year.”

  “Sykes,” she muttered. Rick Sykes was one of the two corrupt cops Krista had uncovered three weeks ago. He’d fled, but authorities had found him up in the Pacific Northwest somewhere on his way to Canada. He was still in jail, denied bail because he was a flight risk, and awaiting trial for murder.

  “Stay away from him,” John warned. “He’s bad news.”

  Sykes was the perfect person to talk to. Especially since he’d gone to the Academy with Mercer.

  As if Alex could read her mind, he said, “He won’t talk to you.”

  “I don’t need him to talk to me. I just need to know who he talks to.” She had a plan forming. She just needed to work out a few minor details. She leaned over and kissed her brother on the cheek. “Thanks, John.”

  “You’re scaring me, sis.”

  “This is going to work.”

  “Don’t do anything without talking to Richardson,” he said. “Please.”

  “I’m not doing anything.” Well, not yet. But she had a plan. “I need to get dressed.” She walked down the short hall to Alex’s bedroom and started searching for her clothes.

  Alex followed her a minute later and closed the door.

  She stood on her toes and kissed him. “You said what I’ve always thought but never articulated.”

  “What did I say?”

  “If John had been shot in the back.” She rubbed her elbow, then spotted her jeans. She pulled them on.

  Alex touched her face. His hand went down and rubbed her scar. “This bugs me.”

  “It bugs me too.”

  “You’re being flip.”

  She shook her head. “Sometimes, I have to be otherwise I can’t deal with it. Just—I need to go. Thank you for believing in me.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I still have friends in LAPD. Sykes was a bad cop. I’m going to drop a bomb and see who he calls.” She found her sports bra and tank-top, then pulled off Alex’s shirt and tossed it at him. He caught it one-handed. She slid on her bra and top. It was going to be hot today, but the morning was cool. “Can I borrow a sweatshirt?” she asked.

  “Help yourself.”

  She pulled out his police Academy sweatshirt which had been washed so many times it almost fit her.

  “Scarlet, you’re making yourself a target.”

  “No—not me. I don’t know anything—but I think Jason does and he doesn’t know what he knows. Or they think he knows something. Otherwise, he would have simply been framed for Gina’s murder and no one would have tried to kill him. I’m going to talk to him first, then go to the jail and see Sykes.”

  “I don’t like this.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  His face darkened and he stepped toward her. “What’s going on here, Scarlet?”

  “I told you—”

  “I mean with us.”

  It took her a moment longer than it normally would have to realize that he was serious. Serious about her, about them, about having a say over her and her decisions. That made her squirm and want to run away. Far away.

  Except that she liked him too much. And he’d stood by her with John. He understood her.

  That made it hurt even more.

  “I like you a lot, Alex. But this is my job.”

  “It’s not a job.”

  “You don’t take me being a private investigator seriously?”

  “That’s not it at all. And you know it. This isn’t just a job for you. I’ve seen your closet, Scarlet.”

  Her closest was set up as a mini-office. Not that it could fit a desk or anything, but she didn’t use it for clothing. She had files and a timeline pinned to the walls with connections to people, places and events in an effort to try to figure out who wanted her dead. Closed off in her closet so no one could see she was obsessed with learning the truth.

  “Take me how I am or walk away,” she said. Her voice cracked. She didn’t want him to walk away. But she wasn’t going to change for him. “It’s only been three weeks. It’s not like you have a lot invested with me.”

  She turned to leave and he grabbed her. Spun her around.

  “You do that too much,” she snapped. “I don’t like being pushed and pulled.”

  He kissed her hard. His hands were under her shirt, on her back, and he held her close, so close she thought she wouldn’t be able to breathe. “I do have a lot invested with you,” he whispered in her ear. “More than I wanted.”

  What the hell did that mean?

  His lips fell back on hers, seeking, urgent. Hot and heavy, making her want to go back to bed and forget everything except taking Alex. She wanted to feel him fully, the way he was both playful and serious. The way he made her want more than she thought she could ever get. Sex with Alex had become more than simple fun. When had that happened? When had she begun to want more than sex?

  “Alex,” she whispered.

  He dropped his arms and stood there, staring at her. They were both breathing heavily.

  “I—” But she couldn’t say it. She didn’t know what she was going to say, but it came and left her mind in that moment. “I’ll call you later.”

  Then she left. Ran out. Because too much was going on in her life to even think about taking the next step with Alex Bishop.

  As she closed the door behind her, she had the sick feeling she was closing the door on them.

  Chapter Eight

  The cop guarding Jason’s hospital room wouldn’t let Scarlet in.

  “I’m a friend,” she said.

  “No one except hospital personnel and Detective Richardson is allowed in this room,” the cop said.

  It wasn’t a cop Scarlet knew. She should be happy that Richardson had made it clear that no one was allowed inside, but she really needed to talk to Jason.

  She walked to the waiting room and called Richardson. His phone went to voice mail.

  “It’s Scarlet Moreno,” she said. “I need to talk to Jason. The guard won’t let me in. If you can help, I’d appreciate it. Even a phone call.”

  She hung up. Then waited around for ten minutes hoping Richardson would call her. He didn’t.

  She left St. Joseph’s and drove to the Valley jail on Sylmar. There were half a dozen jails in the city of Los Angeles, but Krista had been keeping tabs on Sykes and his partner who’d been arrested. That they’d threatened Krista helped keep them behind bars, but Scarlet knew how volatile the court system could be when addressing trials of cops, even cops on trial for murder. Anything could happen.

  There was no convenient parking at the jail, so Scarlet parked down the street. Krista called her as she was getting out of her Jeep.

  “What’s up?” Scarlet said.

  “Where are you?”

  “About to talk to our friend Rick Sykes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I think I can make him squirm.”

  “I don’t understand. Is there something wrong with the prosecution?”

  Scarlet then remembered she hadn’t told Krista her plan.

  “No, no, nothing about that. John tipped me that Mercer, the cop Gina Perez thought was dirty, is the fixer in the Valley. You know, the kind of cop who solves other cop’s problems. If I can make Sykes nervous, then I think he’ll call Mercer, and I need to make Mercer nervous.”

  “Why do you want to make Mercer nervous?”

  “Because I want him to tip his hand. I can’t find anything on Gina, nothing that gives me a reason for her being a target, other than she had something on Mercer. And the more I think about it, the more I think that they think that Jason knows what it is.”

  “Wouldn’t he have told you?”

  “If he knew he had it.”

  “You’re confusing m
e.”

  “I’m confusing myself. But it’s becoming clearer as I find more pieces to the puzzle. And now I’m a target because they don’t know what Jason told me or what he knows. That means I’m involved.”

  “Why didn’t you call me to back you up?”

  “I don’t need it yet.”

  “This is getting dangerous.”

  Maybe, but it was better than taking pictures of cheating spouses and insurance fraud suspects. Scarlet didn’t say that. “I’m being careful. I’m not going to get caught unaware like yesterday. Do you have something for me?”

  “R.J. came through. Armor Plus is a security company growing by leaps and bounds. It’s run by Diana Vartarian.”

  “Vartarian? Are you sure?”

  “Yes. You know her?”

  “No.” But Vartarian was a name Scarlet knew well. Anyone with a history in law enforcement did; the family was large and spread throughout every facet of government. When her dad had been a cop, the deputy Chief of Police was a Vartarian. There was at least one cop, if not more; an ADA who Scarlet had met through her former fiancé ADA Matt Hamilton; and several in local government and running for higher office. They were the blue collar Kennedy’s of L.A., not royalty by wealth, but royalty through connections.

  And no one crossed them.

  “Scarlet … is this the same Vartarian family running for County Supervisor in L.A.?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t they have people everywhere?”

  “Yes. They do.” Scarlet felt sick to her stomach. She was ill-prepared to go up against the Vartarians.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “Please be careful. I can drop everything and help.”

  “No. I’m okay.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am. I have to do this. I’ll keep in touch, promise.” She hung up.

  She did have to follow through. As she walked the two blocks to the jail, little things started falling into place. The election was six weeks away. It was a big one, because L.A. County Supervisors were more important than anyone else in public office. They represented more people than a State Senator or Congressman. They had more power over L.A. than the governor had over California.