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"You owe me a coffee. And I hope you realize there may be nothing I can do."
"I know."
"Meet you there, then." I hung up, then shoved my cell back into my purse and headed down to my car. Ben's dead friend lived in Prahan, which wasn't that far away, even with the late-afternoon traffic going nowhere fast.
I got there with a few minutes to spare. Ben was nowhere to be seen, so I leaned against the trunk of my car and studied the building. It was one of those boring brick designs that were put up in the latter part of the twentieth century - a basic straight-up-and-down affair with few windows and little imagination. Someone had recently painted it cream, and there were neatly trimmed hedges along the front and the sides, but the greenery didn't do a whole lot to relieve the blandness.
Not a place I could live in, if only because the apartments didn't look particularly large. It would have made me feel like a caged animal.
The roar of a motorcycle caught my attention. I looked around to see a leather-clad man on a big, mean-looking bike come roaring up the street toward me. He gave me a wave when he saw me looking, then slowed and drove the bike into the parking spot behind my car.
I smiled and walked back to him. "Fancy entrance," I said, as he took the helmet off.
Ben patted his bike affectionately. "Haven't given this old girl a run for a while. It's nice to be on her again."
I looked at the bike. It didn't look anything particularly special to me. "It's a bike."
Amusement gleamed in his bright blue eyes. "No, it's a 1975 GL1000 Gold Wing. Some of this baby's features were way ahead of her time."
"Well, I'm charmed to meet her," I said, voice dry. "Now, do you want to take me up to your mate's place?"
His grin was as sexy as all hell as he climbed off the bike, his teeth a stark contrast to his rich black skin. "Not into motorcycles?"
"No." But my treacherous hormones were certainly into all that leather. He was a tall man - nearly a foot taller than me, and at five seven, I wasn't short - and powerfully built, with chiseled features and thick black hair. And all that wonderful black leather fit like a glove, emphasizing and enhancing his muscular build.
He undid the stud at his neck, then lowered the jacket zip, revealing a dark blue T-shirt underneath. My nostrils flared, sucking in the musky scent of man mixed with just the faintest hint of perspiration.
Very nice indeed.
"I think you need to come for a ride on one of my bikes. That'll change your tune."
The image of pressing close to his leather-clad body as we roared through the streets on his noisy machine had my pulse rate tripping - but I wasn't sure if it was excitement or panic. I mean, I liked looking - a lot - but I didn't feel ready for anything more right now. A quick dance with a stranger during the moon heat was safe enough for both my wounded heart and my emotions.
This wolf was not.
I stepped back, and waved him on ahead. "Cars are safer."
"That's the problem. There's no direct thrill."
"There is with sports cars."
"It's not the same, trust me." He glanced down at me, eyebrow raised. "And how can a guardian afford to get around in a sports car?"
"She can't. But I've been in them."
"Not the same." He began climbing the building's outside steps to the first floor, leaving me rather ideally placed for some butt-viewing action. "Denny's apartment is the end one. He hated having neighbors on both sides."
"Did the cops talk to the neighbor he has got?"
He shrugged, making the leather jacket ripple rather nicely. "They weren't exactly telling me much." He threw a grin over his shoulder. "But that could have something to do with me calling them pricks who wouldn't know a murder if it slapped them in the face."
"Could be," I agreed dryly.
We reached the end of the balcony. He stopped and opened a door that looked freshly painted. The air that flooded out was filled with the scent of roses and death.
I stepped past Ben into the apartment. It wasn't exactly a huge place, but it was neat and bright, thanks to the white walls and the skylights. The first room was a living room and kitchen combined, and the whole area was extraordinarily clean. Even the sink gleamed.
I scanned the scenery photos on the walls, wondering if he'd shot them himself, then said, "Where was he found?"
