Part 19 (1/2)

This time her words crashed to a halt, a ma.s.sive sob taking her over. Breisi buried her face in her hands, weeping.

Dawn walked to her, laid a tentative palm on Breisi's head. The other woman grabbed on to her wrist. In an effort to stay strong, Dawn glanced away, her gaze sweeping the house, taking in the family room where Breisi had been fixating her gaze: the couch, the TV, the coffee table, the stereo system with the old turntable. Another record that Frank used to play skipped over and over in her mind: Big girls don't cry...

Pressure built from her chest, to her throat, creeping upward in hard, tense heat....

Then she saw the ghosts again: her and her father dancing in the family room together, laughing.

Big girls don't cry...

As a gush of moisture rolled out of one eye, Dawn pummeled it away with a slash of her fingers, reducing it to nothing.

”We'll find him, Breisi,” she said, stroking the woman's hair. ”No matter what, we're going to find him.”

Breisi wrapped her arms around Dawn's waist, burying her face against Frank's s.h.i.+rt and taking in his essence as his daughter held her.

Meanwhile, the night breathed, watching through the window.

Fogging the panes of the only fragile barrier that was keeping it from Dawn.

FIFTEEN.

THESTANDOFF.

SEVENbucks for an iced tea,” Dawn said to no one in particular as she perused a menu the next day at Chez Rose, a bistro near the trendy Farmers Market.

She was seated outside, an umbrella fighting the waning sun, misters spraying huffs of moisture over her garlic-rubbed skin as she waited for Matt Lonigan. At Breisi's urging and The Voice's go-ahead, Dawn had called him early this afternoon to finally make an appointment with the PI.

The day had been another full one. She'd sent in a concealed weapons permit application that might not even be approved since the L.A. County Sheriff 's Department wasn't exactly known for giving out a lot of those. Afterward, she'd arranged to take a cla.s.s for the permit and had done some shooting at a range with a supply of lead bullets-not the customized silver ones Breisi made-then arranged to meet Matt. Yes, Dawn Madison was turning into a regularMagnum, P.I.

”Seven ducats? That gla.s.s better come as big and roomy as your head,” said Kiko's voice in the earpiece Breisi had given Dawn for this particular occasion.

”Cut the chatter,” said the techno geek herself.

Dawn changed position, facing Breisi, who was at the outdoor bar. Wearing a long black wig, she held a virgin strawberry daiquiri like it was a prop, yellow-tinted Tomb Raider sungla.s.ses hiding eyes that would be trained on Lonigan. She was Dawn's backup, extra help in case Lonigan got feisty, she supposed. As for Kiko, he was biding his time near the SUV in the parking lot, monitoring until Matt arrived.

And, somewhere in this town, The Voice was listening, too.

His deep, lulling tone nestled into Dawn's ear, wrapping her in the remembrance of their last meeting: the lick of the ocean's tide, the crash of a climax.”Don't mind the prices, Dawn,” he said. ”Find out who hired him and see if he reacts to your garlic and crucifix. I want to know if there's more to this man than first appears.”

”Got it.”

There was a pause, filled with a thousand chances for Dawn to guess what he was thinking. Then, ”I'm going silent now.”

As the correspondence died, Dawn glanced over the top of her menu at Breisi, who subtly tipped her drink to her cohort, then made an effort to play barfly.

Dawn bit back a smile. There was a certain morning-after type thing going on with her and the older woman, an embarra.s.sed tip of the hat to what had happened at Frank's last night. There, after Breisi had cried it out, they'd all returned to business, knowing it was the only thing that would make them feel better about Frank.

So they'd double-checked his paperwork, confirming that he'd no doubt used cash for all his purchases so as not to leave paper trails. Thus, there were no spending patterns to give them a hint as to where he'd been lately besides Bava. At their wits' end, they had returned to Limpet's, believing that tracking down more of Robby's old coworkers and visiting the places on Klara's list to place locators for detection-all the while keeping an eye on Bava-would yield the best return on their investment of time.

When all was said and done, Dawn had crashed on Kiko's couch again, laden with the question of whether or not she should move into Frank's. Even now, she still had no idea if she could handle being there. The closest she could come to it was wearing one of the unders.h.i.+rts she'd filched from his room. It just felt right to have it on, the subtle weight of it an albatross, a second skin.

Dawn's earpiece came to life.

”This should be our man,” Kiko said.

Oh so casually, Dawn set down her menu, pretending to tuck back a strand of hair over her ear at the same time she fixed her eyes on the entrance to the patio. Smoothness.

Moments later, Matt Lonigan sauntered to her table. Every stride reminded her of a boxer moving to the center of the ring, checking out his opponent from beneath a lowered brow. His light blue eyes a.s.sessed her, determining her mood, predicting her reactions far in advance. He was dressed in new blue jeans, Doc Martens, a white T-s.h.i.+rt covered by an untucked short-sleeved khaki s.h.i.+rt that was unb.u.t.toned. Dawn guessed that the last item was hiding his gun.

Her foot rested next to the bag she'd brought for her own weapons.

A veil of awareness-as thin as the water from the misters-fell over her, melting into her with waves of heat. Maybe it was Matt Lonigan's talent for self-control, or maybe it was just because she was constantly on the prowl, but it was all she could do to bite back an inviting smile, a raging come-on.

”I was half afraid you wouldn't show,” he said, arriving at the table.

He was holding out his hand, expecting her to shake it. Such the professional.

Dawn couldn't help herself. She took her fingers, placed the tips of them in his palm, ran them gently over his skin. ”Have no fear-I'm way better at showing than telling.”

In her ear, Kiko sharply cleared his throat, but The Voice's silence was much more of a welcome scold.

Jealous?

But that was stupid. Sure, she was intrigued by her boss, but playing games with him was uselessandinappropriate, even if it was engrained in her nature.She forced herself to cut it out, concentrating on the fact that Matt hadn't reacted to the garlic on her skin yet.

He'd ignored her s.p.u.n.kiness, too, folding himself into his chair, adjusting his seat so that his back was to a wall. Then he opened the menu, his gaze occasionally encompa.s.sing the patio, searching, never resting. It was almost like he knew he was under watch.

”How's your case going?” Dawn asked, starting her mission in earnest.

”Rolling along. Yours?” He put down the menu.

Like she was going to spill all the beans. ”It's all diamond nights and caviar dreams, you know. Weren't you the one who told me something about detective work's lack of glitz?”

Before Matt answered, the waiter came to take their orders, then left them alone at a stubborn impa.s.se.

During the silence he scanned her arm with the burns that had healed so quickly, then he continued to inspect the patio.

”So no sharing today, either.” She arranged herself in her chair so that his gaze was lured back to her and not the rest of the area-especially Breisi. He'd been checking out the bar, where her a.s.sociate was listening. It made Dawn nervous.

Her ploy worked. Almost unwillingly, he locked onto her, the hint of attraction darkening his eyes.

There. The carnal interest made her feel a little more complete now. She had just enough time to hate herself for that before he answered.

”Listen, Dawn, I'd give anything to tell you what's going on. But you're never going to find out who's retaining me. I mean it.

Don't waste your energy.”