through a drive-through and took care of both their needs. Even if she had no appetite, she knew she should eat. He was a bit disappointed since he’d had a sit-down breakfast in mind, but her decision hadn’t kept him from pulling out his BlackBerry and checking his cyber inbox.
She took the long way to her next stop in hopes of avoiding more questions, but she should have known that wouldn’t work.
East L.A. wasn’t exactly Brentwood, and no matter what neighborhood she drove through to reach her final destination or Jeffrey’s preoccupation with remote-accessing his files, there was no way to hide the fact that they’d entered a whole different world. One where Doctors Olivia Mills and Jeffrey Scott did not belong.
“Good heavens, Olivia, where are we going now? I thought we were bound for a weekend in the mountains. Please tell me,” he said, his voice teasing, “that you’re only drawing out the foreplay.”
“This won’t take long, Jeffrey, I promise.”
He didn’t look totally convinced but he didn’t put up an argument.
Though it had been years since Olivia had carried a weapon the way most women would a stick of lip gloss, she wasn’t oblivious to the world around her. At times she’d driven through neighborhoods just like this to get a better grasp on where a patient had come from. Just because most of her patients were somewhat affluent now didn’t mean they always had been. A few had clawed their way up from the gutter.
To better understand their way of reasoning, she’d wanted to make herself fully aware of the environment in which they’d grown up. So she wasn’t entirely lost on this side of the city. Certainly she watched the news and read the newspaper; there wasn’t any real question as to where she would find what she needed. The only question was whether she would survive the encounter with those who did the selling.
She parked the SUV in front of a shop she recognized, not from its name but by what she saw in the front display window. Iron bars shielding reinforced glass. Warning signs that a guard dog was on the premises and that neither soliciting nor loitering would be tolerated.
“A pawnshop?”
A civilian would think that. The sign on the window even said so. But Olivia knew better.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Wait.” Jeffrey put his hand on her arm. “I don’t like this, Olivia.” He looked around at the dilapidated and deserted storefronts and the few pedestrians loitering in doorways. “This looks dangerous, even in daylight.”
Unfortunately danger had already found them. He just didn’t know it yet. If he would only stay cool a few more minutes. They were almost out of here. She needed to get him out of this city. She needed to contact Hamilton as quickly as possible. Time was their enemy.
More lies. “Don’t worry, Jeffrey. The man who owns this shop is a relative of the patient I was with last night. I just need to make sure he knows to stop in the hospital and check on his cousin. Family is very important during a crisis. I’ll only be a minute.”
He reached for the door handle. “I’ll go with you then. I certainly don’t want you going into a place like this alone.”
Damn. Not good. “Look, Jeffrey, this guy is skittish, as you might imagine.” The determination in those brown eyes told her that wasn’t going to be a good enough answer. “Bottom line—” she punted “—it comes down to doctor-patient privilege. I can’t really talk about the case in front of you. I’m certain you understand.”
That he understood. But he still didn’t like it. He surveyed the street again. “I’d feel more comfortable if you didn’t go in. Wouldn’t a phone call suffice?”
“I promised my patient I’d go see his relative personally. It’ll only take a moment.” She leaned forward and glanced first one way then the other. “Besides, I’m not so sure it would be a good idea to leave the vehicle unattended in this neighborhood.”
A sigh hissed past his lips. “I suppose you’re right. But—” he looked directly at her “—for the record, I don’t like this.”
She squeezed his hand. “I promise I’ll make up for putting you through this.”
He shook his head in defeat though a smile toyed with the corner of his mouth. “All right, you win, but be careful. I’ll be watching the door. If any hooligans go in after you, I’m coming in.”
“Good idea.” Olivia grabbed her handbag and climbed out. “I’ll be back in five minutes tops.” She noted the hooligans he referred to as she strode quickly to the shop entrance. Five, possibly six young men. If the city was open for business, so were they. Gang members probably, judging by their appearance. She’d parked almost directly in front of the entrance. She should be able to keep an eye on things out here and still do her business. She’d rather have taken Jeffrey inside with her, but she couldn’t do this with him there. He would definitely freak. She needed him far, far out of his comfort zone before she allowed him reason to give her trouble about her decisions.
The owner looked up as the bell above the door jingled. Olivia took a moment to glance back at Jeffrey, then performed a final swift visual sweep of the street. The handful of characters keeping the sidewalk from being totally deserted looked exactly like trouble, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
“This ain’t the Salvation Army.”
Olivia turned to the shop owner who’d spoken. A comedian. Great. She walked to the counter. “I need to preview your arms.”
He laughed and held out his tattooed limbs for her perusal. “Whatever gets you wet, honey. I have another limb that’s inked, too, if you’d like to see it.”
“Your firearms,” she clarified. If he’d had any question about her seriousness, the lethal stare she turned on was ample answer.
“You got a reference?” He looked uneasy now. Uncertain whether to provide the requested service, not quite sure he wanted to risk turning her down. California gun laws were some of the strictest in the nation, including a ten-day waiting period to buy a firearm. His guardedness was understandable.
She plopped her handbag on the counter. “You see this Louis Vuitton? Three grand.” She held up her right hand. “You don’t even want to know what this Rolex set me back.”
He didn’t look impressed or convinced.
“I have money to spend, my friend, a lot of money. Now, are we going to do business or do I need to go to the next block?”
He sent an anxious look at the door. “You could be a cop.”
“Please.” She grabbed her bag and hefted it onto her shoulder. “I don’t have time for this shit. Show me what you’ve got.”
Another glance at the door. “I’ll have to lock up and you’ll have to go in the back with me.”
“No way. Give me a description of your inventory. Better yet, I’ll tell you what I want. You can bring it out to me in this bag.” She reached into her handbag and retrieved the carefully folded shopping bag.
The owner made a choking sound that might have been a laugh. “You want me to fill your Neiman Marcus bag with guns?”
“Do
