Dangerous Bond (Jamie Bond Mysteries Book 4) by Gemma Halliday, Jennifer Fischetto Read Free Book Online Page B

so I could get a better viewpoint of Elaine. There was only so much space before I hit the wall though.
    "Do I smell?" Plaid Guy asked with a soft chuckle.
    I grinned and straightened my legs. The tips of my shoes touched the side of the bar. "No, just stretching." It was pretty lame, but I didn't want to admit I was stalking my father's girlfriend.
    He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. "My boyfriend and I got into an argument, and I followed him here."
    Bingo. I knew my gaydar.
    "Oh yeah? Which one is he?"
    "He's talking to the woman in the silver dress."
    I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Derek had nothing to worry about tonight.
    Ten minutes later, Plaid Guy left with a disgruntled sigh. He never went up to his boyfriend or even tried to catch his attention, which was perfect for me. Elaine would've spotted me for sure. Ten minutes after that, Elaine kissed the cheeks of her friends, waved good-bye to the boyfriend, and headed my way.
    Oh shoot!
    I turned to my left, faced the deep-teal wall, and prayed she didn't look my way.
    Once I heard the door click shut, I threw a couple of fives onto the bar and ran out. When I reached the sidewalk, I spotted the back of Elaine. She was walking to her Honda Civic, parked a few storefronts ahead. I ran across the street to my own car and waited for her to pull onto the street, before making a U-turn and following her.
    My cherry-red Roadster was too familiar to go unnoticed, so I had to stay several vehicles behind her. I almost lost her a couple of times, but once she hit the 101, I knew she was headed home. But just to be sure, I followed her three more exits before she turned off into her neighborhood in North Hollywood.
    As she pulled onto her street, I headed to my apartment. The coffee had done nothing to perk me up. My bones felt tired, and I simply wanted to kick off my shoes and crawl into bed. Was it possible to become immune to caffeine? Maybe I needed to up my dosage. I could switch to espressos.
    When I reached the front steps of my building, a woman rushed toward me. I tensed, not a huge fan of a person flying at me at night on the street. I reached into my bag for my gun, just in case, and wrapped my fingers around its handle. But I didn't pull it out just yet, as I didn't want to scare an innocent woman simply out for a nighttime jog.
    But this person wasn't in yoga pants and sneakers. She wore a black miniskirt, leopard-print blouse, and four-inch platform heels. Clearly this was no jogger. That was when I realized it was Bristol Claremont. She sure loved her animal prints.
    I released my hold on my pistol and withdrew my hand from my bag. "Bristol, are you okay?" The real question was what was she doing here? How the heck had she found out where I lived?
    "No, I'm not!" she cried, flapping her arms up and down. "The police questioned me all evening. They think I had something to do with Roger's death!"
    I had to admit that the thought had crossed my mind as well. "What did they say?" I asked.
    "They kept asking where I was at the time he…" She trailed off, her face scrunching up into a tearless sob. "This can't be happening. I loved my husband. I didn't want him dead." Her voice was even higher pitched than when we'd first met, if that was possible. I thought I heard a dog bark next door in response.
    "I'm so sorry, Bristol. But it's customary for the police to talk to the victim's loved ones. I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Unless, of course, she'd actually killed him.
    She shook her head violently, causing several tendrils of hair to fall loose from her low bun. "No, you don't understand. They truly think I did it. They want me to surrender myself tomorrow with my lawyer. And I need your help. You have to help me prove who really killed Roger. Please, Miss Bond."
    I would've loved to think that a spouse wouldn't hire a PI if she'd been guilty, but I knew the world was full of dishonest people. And that wasn't me being negative. Simply a fact. I'd