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She had to keep thinking. Ralph Johnson was a vet who had been kind enough to occasionally sit with her father during her volunteer shifts at the hospital. But he was easily sixty-five and not in fantastic health. Asking an elderly man who’d already had a stroke to break the law for her seemed…well, criminal.
Pete, her assistant manager at Bazookas, wasn’t above a little crime. According to him, he’d done some time in juvie. But that was at least ten years ago. He seemed on the straight and narrow now. Not to mention the fact he wasn’t speaking to her. And that horribly degrading “breastaurant,” as Seth had called it, was the last place she ever wanted to step foot inside again. And what would he want in return for a favor?
She didn’t dare tell anyone at the hospital. It would get back to Beck. And who else did she really know? The few people she’d met in LA had all been at her father’s funeral—and she’d already dismissed each one.
Except Pike.
I know you think I’m an asshole, but…um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry. If you need anything, I’ll be around.
Heavenly stopped pacing. Pike might be perfect. He looked capable of a little crime. He worked with or for Hammer at his dungeon—she was still fuzzy on the details—but he didn’t seem like anyone’s man except his own. She didn’t know what had transpired between him and Seth after his crude come-on at Hammer’s birthday party a few months back, but he’d given her PI a wide berth since. It seemed there was no love lost between them.
But she didn’t have Pike’s number. Nor did she have any idea where he lived. And if she asked how to find him, everyone would want to know why. Despite her recent practice, she really wasn’t a good liar.
Now what?
Wait. She did have his address. He’d written it in the guest book at Dad’s funeral so she could send everyone thank-you notes for the flowers and donations to Guillain-Barré Syndrome Foundation International. Where would Beck have stashed that after the funeral?
She ran upstairs, prowling from room to room, and found everything related to her father’s service in his home office. Though her father’s picture, his memorial program, and the collection of cards nearly felled her, she didn’t have time to be teary or sentimental. She forced herself to scour the box. At the bottom, she found the guest book. Since so few had attended the funeral, it didn’t take her long to find the right entry.
C. A. Pike, it read. Vaguely, she wondered what his initials stood for as she inputted his address into her phone. The GPS told her it would only take her seven minutes to travel the two point two miles.
She dashed back down the stairs, scooped up her purse—then realized she couldn’t take her cell. Seth would find her and all her effort to save him and Beck would be for nothing.
Since she didn’t have time for panic, she did her best to memorize the directions, then closed the app, darkened her phone, and left it on the island. Hopefully, she’d be successful and return here before either of the men came back.
Heavenly couldn’t let herself think about the alternative.
* * *
Filled with disquiet,Heavenly drove the winding streets of the upscale Beverly Hills neighborhood, past the multimillion-dollar homes of LA’s uber-rich. When she spotted her destination on the right, Heavenly craned her neck for a glimpse. From afar, the house looked lovely, with an old-Hollywood sort of charm.
Was it possible the brooding tattooed bad boy actually lived here or had he just jotted a random address in her guest book at Dad’s service?
She didn’t have time for a wild goose chase. Worry twisted her stomach.
Slowly, she pulled into the driveway of a classic two-story Spanish Colonial and cut the engine. The palatial house looked strangely homey. Verdant Virginia creeper climbed the cream-colored stucco exterior. A variety of lush palmlike bushes bursting from massive terra-cotta planters filled a red-brick patio and lent the place a botanical feel. Beyond that, a T-shaped brick path led to a dark, narrow door.
Heart pounding, mouth dry, Heavenly gathered her purse and her courage, then started up the walkway. The closer she came, the more she worried a decrepit butler would answer, peer down his nose at her with a disdainful sniff, and announce that no one named Pike lived here before slamming the door in her face.
Heavenly held her breath as she pressed the doorbell and anxiously waited. Long seconds later, the door swung open. Pike stood in the portal, pierced brow raised, dressed in sweatpants, a wrinkled T-shirt, and a backward ball cap. He held a bottle of beer in one hand and a game controller in the other.
“You lost, sunshine?”
“Wow. You really do live here.”
“Most of my life. I’ll give you a tour if you want, but that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
“No.” She tried to tamp down her lingering worry that Beck and Seth would be horribly pissed if they knew she’d gone to Pike with her problem.
When you hide things, their translation is that you would have told them if you genuinely believed in them.
Knowing she had no other options to protect them, Heavenly silenced Raine’s warning and pressed on. “At my father’s funeral, you said if I ever needed anything…”
Pike’s eyes narrowed as he clearly tried to deduce the reason she’d suddenly appeared on his doorstep. Just when she feared he’d insist she explain where she stood, he eased back and opened the door wide, silently inviting her in.
Heavenly stepped over the threshold and followed Pike across mahogany hardwoods, through a tall archway, into a great room—and bit back a gasp. The room was a massive open atrium of smooth plaster in ecru tones. Pillars and stuffed bookcases soared up to modern wrought-iron railings, which lined the open second floor. The barrel coffered ceiling towered above that, inducing jaw-dropping awe. Afternoon spilled sunlight in from a bounty of windows and bathed the whole room in glowing elegance.
While she gaped, Pike turned off the biggest flat-screen television she’d ever seen and dropped his game controller on the long black leather sofa. When he headed toward the back of the room, Heavenly quickly followed, passing an enormous fireplace and equally imposing wet bar before heading through another dark-colored door.
