He shifted the conversation back to the lady from L.A.
She turned fully to meet his gaze. “Absolutely not.”
“Good.” Jim looked back to Victoria then. “This is the only right way to do this. I don’t think we want to go down that other road.”
Victoria nodded once in acknowledgment of the line he’d drawn. Jim opened the door and gestured for Johnson to join him.
As he entered the room, Jim said, “Johnson, I’m sure you know Detective Smith from L.A.”
Johnson stopped in the middle of the room. His gaze collided with the detective’s.
Smith rose from her chair. “Hello, Mr. Johnson.”
The tension that rippled through Jim’s associate was more than just surprise. There was something between him and the detective. Something more than the ugly history of the homicide investigation.
“Detective Smith,” Johnson said before glancing over at Jim.
“Detective Smith has come all the way from L.A.,” Jim noted, working hard to keep the sarcasm out of his tone as he brought his associate up to speed, “because she believes there is some threat to your life.”
“There’s talk,” Smith explained, “that the Crew is planning a hit on you.”
Sam digested that information for three or four beats. “And you felt compelled to deliver that message in person?”
Definitely something between these two. Jim saw it in his associate’s posture and heard it in his voice.
Smith blinked once, twice. “I think it’s past time we got to the bottom of what really happened. That way maybe we can stop this before someone else has to die.”
“The truth is,” Johnson said with a bluntness that held everyone in the room silent, “your department couldn’t care less if I die. This isn’t about helping me, and you know it. It’s about solving a case that baffled L.A.’s finest, and I don’t mean my fiancée’s murder.”
Jim had to give Detective Smith credit, she held her ground. Her navy slacks and pale blue blouse were pristine, not a wrinkle, and her poise was nothing less than professional. When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady.
“My partner would like nothing better than to nail you, that’s true,” she admitted, “but I don’t share his theories on what really happened. What I do believe in is the truth. I think it’s time we knew what that was.” And then she made a major strategical error. “I also think you’re way overdue to stop running from the past.”
Sam Johnson executed an about-face and stalked out of the room.
Jim didn’t follow, but he did offer the detective a bit of sage advice. “If you want his cooperation, it’s best not to insult him until he’s committed.”
Smith squared her shoulders. “I’ll talk to him.”
To Jim’s surprise, she took off after Johnson. He had to give her credit; the lady was definitely determined.
“I hope you understand why I’m doing this, Jim.”
Jim studied Victoria for a bit before saying exactly what was on his mind. “You’re the one who needs to understand. I’m not that little boy who vanished twenty years ago. You have to stop punishing yourself for that, Victoria. It wasn’t your fault. You need to come to terms with the reality that I’m a grown man. I survived twenty years in hell without you. I don’t need you looking over my shoulder now.”
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he had to get that through to her…somehow.
Chapter Two
Sam cleared the stairs leading down to the second floor of the Colby Agency’s temporary home. One more floor and he’d hit the lobby and be out of there.
“Johnson, wait!”
He hesitated on the landing halfway between the first and second floors and closed his eyes for five seconds in an attempt to calm the rage simmering inside him before he said something he would regret. Detective Lisa Smith had no business showing up here. Damn it!
“What do you want?” he demanded when she hesitated one step above him. What did she hope to accomplish by coming here? He was just beginning to enjoy his new life. He didn’t need the past barging in.
“I want the truth, Johnson. You can’t keep running away from it.” She rested her hand on the railing and took the last step down to stand toe to toe with him. “As long as I have a breath left in me I’m going to keep haunting you. You should know that by now.”
Oh, yeah, he knew. He’d gone through months and months of hell because of her and her partner. The last four months of long-awaited peace weren’t nearly enough to banish those dark days.
He looked directly into her eyes, let her see the resolve in his. “You’re wasting your time, Detective Smith. You won’t ever know what happened. You can dog my every step for the rest of my life. It’s not going to work.” A ragged, involuntary exhale reminded him that he’d been holding his breath.
“Then we have a problem, Sam,” she said with a fortitude that matched his own. “Because it’s going to take both of us to stop what’s going down back home even as we speak.” She lifted her chin and ratcheted up the warning in her eyes. “And I’m not going back to L.A. without you.”
He leaned closer, heard her breath hitch at the unexpected move. “No, Detective, we don’t have a problem. You have a problem.” He knew his civil rights forward and back. No way could she make him go back without a court order. If she’d had one, they wouldn’t be having this discussion right now. She would have arrived with her partner and all would have been handled swiftly and by the book.
As if he hadn’t said a word, she took another shot at convincing him. “Lil Watts has issued a new contract on you. You’ll be lucky to survive the week. No one close to you will be safe. Maybe you’ve forgotten how these guys work.”
Sam looked away, remembered terror slithered beneath his skin in spite of his best efforts to suppress any and all emotion. He still had a sister in L.A. Parents. None of whom understood his decision to leave…could never know his reason. The words he refused to utter aloud stuck in his throat. His family was supposed to be safe as long as he stayed away. That was the deal.
“When did things change?” His voice was bitter, brittle, as he leveled his attention on the detective once more.
“About two weeks ago.” Her eyes told him she wanted to back up a step, but she stayed put. “I guess you didn’t hear about it. The Man is dead. Murdered. Lil Watts took over. He’s shaking things up. Every damned gang in L.A. is restless. I think he wants to set his own precedents. Make himself look superior by having his long-awaited vengeance on you—the one that got away.”
Sam knew the gang members weren’t the only ones nervous. The riots of 1992 hadn’t been forgotten by anyone who’d lived through them. She was right. He hadn’t heard. He’d stopped watching the news a long time ago. But her revelation certainly explained why she was here. The Man had made the deal with Sam, and he was dead.
That
