Seismic Crimes, page 12
“Stunning.” It was the only word he could dig out of his awestruck brain, and it came out on a breath that left his lungs empty. He sucked in air through his teeth. Every cell in his body felt electrified.
“Do you like it?”
“If I liked it any more, you wouldn’t be wearing it.”
****
A short cab ride later, they arrived at a restaurant in the Financial District. Dressed in a crisp white shirt and black skirt, a young woman led them to their table that offered a panoramic view of San Francisco. Beth peeled away from Donovan’s side and wandered over to the expanse of windows. He followed her, catching her audible sigh at the view laid out before her.
“This is amazing,” she whispered with the toes of her shoes touching the glass.
Buildings rose up around them, magical and romantic in the night with squares of light like stars spotting the tall structures. Directly in front of them stood the bluish glowing spear of the Transamerica Pyramid, and in the distance, stretched the Golden Gate Bridge, which sparkled with hundreds of lights from the cars journeying up and down its impressive length.
Beth turned to him. “All day you’ve been showing me these beautiful places, and not once did you seem lost.” She angled her head to the side. Her eyes glinted with the glimmer of candlelight. “Have you been here before?”
“A few times for monster truck competitions, or for fun. I like to catch waves at Half Moon Bay during the summer, if I can manage a trip.”
“You surf?” Her eyebrows shot up her forehead.
Ah! I’ve surprised her yet again. He enjoyed surprising her.
“It’s one of my many talents.”
“I’ve been wondering about your secret talents. Seems like you have a lot.”
“Secrets or talents?”
“Both.”
Grinning, he lifted their joined hands and pressed his lips to the back of her hand.
“Let’s look over the menu.”
Chardonnay filled their wine goblets, and the pale yellow liquid danced with the flickers of candle flames. Beth twirled linguine noodles coated in a creamy pesto sauce with her fork. Jumbo shrimp and flakes of parmesan topped the green heap of pasta, and Donovan ate bites of tilapia swimming in a lemon and orange caper sauce.
They lingered over their wine, talking in hushed tones. “We came to find Buck and yet we’re having an elegant dinner.” Beth’s fingers trailed along the stem of her wine goblet. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing. Buck wasn’t home, so I took the opportunity to spend some time with my girlfriend.”
“I don’t get it,” she said while studying him. “During Christmas, you were wound up and about to blow. Now you’re so calm. What’s changed?”
“I know where Buck is. That’s what changed.” His voice was hard, purposeful.
Beth nodded. “Well, I’m glad you’re relaxed right now. Even if it’s just temporary. I had a wonderful day.”
Donovan reached across the white tablecloth and took her hand. “It’s not over yet.” After dinner, he took her to the St. Francis hotel. They snuck in through the back and crept to the glass tower of elevators. Before anyone could see them, they hopped onto an elevator. Once inside, Donovan pushed the button for the thirty-second floor. The elevator whisked them up and broke into the night sky, granting them a bird’s eye view of the cityscape.
Beth gasped and stepped up to the glass. She pressed her hands to it and gaped at the scenery. The buildings were shrouded in darkness and shining with the glow of lights. No streets were visible but stoplights and cars offered a Christmas-like effect.
At the top, the elevator hummed to a stop.
When it stilled, Donovan slipped his arms around her and pulled her close. He kissed her below her ear. She tilted her head, and he trailed his lips down her neck. Hearing her soft moan, like a kitten’s happy purr, he backed her against the rear wall and kissed her feverishly, as if he hadn’t kissed her in weeks.
Grabbing the back of her knee, he lifted her leg to his hip. His hand roamed up her silky thigh, beneath her dress. His fingers curled around the band of her underwear and inched it down.
Beth’s head jerked back, yanking her lips free. “What are you doing?” Her voice was breathless.
“We ate. Now I’m going to make love to you.”
She put a hand on his chest and pushed, but he didn’t move an inch. “Not in a public elevator.”
“We’re alone.”
“It’s glass! Someone could see us.”
“No one is looking at the Westin with binoculars. And even if they were, they’d need to be night-vision binoculars. We’re alone, it’s dark, and I’m blocking you. Look over my shoulder.” Her gaze left his, and he moved his mouth to her ear. “I want you looking at that view when you cum.”
Taking her mouth, his tongue rubbed against hers until she released a moan. Then his lips journeyed back down her neck over her naked shoulder, and down to her wrist. Kneeling at her feet, he sampled the skin on her thigh. When her fingers knotted in his hair, he slipped the swath of silk down her legs and stuffed it into his pocket. In the next second, he hoisted her off her feet. Her legs instantly wrapped around his waist.
He was reaching for his zipper when the elevator rocked from side to side causing him to lose his balance. Beth’s legs dropped and she stumbled on the points of her five-inch heels. He caught her in his arms as he struggled to stay standing. His shoulder rammed into the back wall, but he managed to steady himself with one arm secured around Beth’s waist and his free hand on the railing.
The frantic shaking of the elevator stopped seconds later.
Beth clutched his arms, her eyes wide. “What was that?”
“I think that’s the elevator’s way of telling us to go back down to the lobby.” He didn’t want to tell her it was an aftershock, didn’t want to scare her.
“Good idea,” she said and accepted the panties he gave her.
When they stepped outside, the alarms of a few parked cars touched his ears. He looked left and right, searching for signs of distraught after the shocks, but the people he saw were calm as if nothing had happened. San Franciscans were used to aftershocks. Although the elevator had rocked significantly, no one else seemed rattled by it, which relieved Donovan. He hadn’t released Beth’s hand since pushing the button on the elevator for the first floor, and he continued to hold her hand during the cab ride to Union Square.
In the lobby of their hotel, he told Beth he wanted to see if Buck was home.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll knock on his door.”
He tugged her to a halt. “You’ll what?”
“I’ll go to his room, knock, and see if he opens up.”
“Like hell.”
“Donovan, Buck knows what you look like, but he’s never seen me before. Besides that, look at me. I’m a woman who almost had sex in an elevator. Would you be able to resist me if I was on your doorstep?”
He blinked. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks flushed, her lips plump; she looked like sex on heels. No man in his right mind would be able to resist her, but damned if he would admit it.
“And what if he answers? What will you do then?”
She shrugged. “Oops, sorry, wrong room. You wouldn’t happen to know where Mike Dawson is, would you?”
He exhaled in mild annoyance because he knew her plan made sense. “Fine,” he agreed. “But if he answers, you better get out of there immediately.”
“Understood, sir.”
And when you’re out of the way, I’ll break down his fucking door.
From behind a wall, Donovan watched Beth strut down the hall in her heels. The site of her gorgeous backside swaying from side to side didn’t increase his libido, it filled him with anger.
Does she have to be so sexy while knocking on a killer’s door?
She paused in front of Buck’s door, fluffed up her hair, and knocked briskly.
Donovan’s hands balled into fists partly because of Beth’s mussed hair, but also in anticipation. Even though he knew he shouldn’t, he wanted to pound his fist into Buck’s face, break his nose, dislocate his jaw, give him matching black eyes, and send blood flowing.
The door didn’t open.
Beth laid her palms flat against the wood, leaned her breasts toward the door, and kicked up her right foot. “Mike, are you in there?”
Donovan ground his teeth. If Buck opens that door, you’re going to fall right into him.
As if she had heard his thoughts, she stepped back and turned away. When she rejoined him behind the protection of the wall, she lifted her bare shoulder in a small shrug. “What if he’s no longer staying here?”
He shrugged back. “I’ll deal with that when there’s proof he’s somewhere else. Until then, I’m staying.”
She linked her arm with his. “We are staying,” she corrected.
Back in their room, Beth sat on the edge of the bed and bent forward to slip out of her heels. With his hands in his pockets, Donovan enjoyed the view of her long legs. Beth in heels was a delicious site. Beth barefoot in a sexy dress with purple polish on her toes was mouthwatering.
A slow smile spread across his lips. Lust rushed through his veins like a saline flush.
He hadn’t been able to sink into her in the elevator, so he had a lot of pent up tension to release. Taking her in the hotel bed, her dress pushed up to her hips, sounded just as good as his earlier fantasy.
Setting her shoes aside, she looked at him with curiosity stamped across her beautiful features. “I never asked before, and I realize I should have—”
Now he was curious. “Ask what?”
“What are you going to do when we find Buck?”
His lips spread into a tight smile. His lustful thoughts faded. “Make a citizen’s arrest.”
“How?”
Without a word, he picked up his carryon, unzipped it, and took out two objects, which he set on the bed beside her.
Her jaw tensed. She pointed at the stun gun and handcuffs. “Where did you get those?”
“I have my ways.”
Chapter Fifteen
Handcuffs and a stun gun. Beth couldn’t believe it. Donovan obviously didn’t have them at the airport, or on the plane, because security would’ve been on him instantly. So how did he get them? She didn’t like the secrecy, but she doubted he’d tell her even if she pried.
Maybe the less I know the better. In case I’m interrogated.
Questions and scenarios circulated in her head while she tried to fall asleep. Before she knew it, Donovan was waking her up.
“What do you want?” she groaned.
“To bring you to China Town.” He gave her butt a light slap. “Up and at ’em.”
She sat up with a jaw-cracking yawn. “What if Buck came back during the night?”
“He didn’t.”
“How do you know?” she asked crankily.
“I just do.”
She lifted a brow. “What did you do? Fix his door with a trip wire?”
“Maybe.” He shook his head with a grin. “I called the front desk.”
“Oh. Next time, can you tell me before you do something like that?”
He picked up her hand, kissed her knuckles. “I promise I will.”
Room service arrived with their breakfast as she stepped out of the shower. In her bathrobe, she curled her legs beneath herself, picked up her cup of coffee, and peered at the covered plates. “What did you order?”
In answer, Donovan lifted the silver covers with a flourish. English muffins sat in the center of their plates topped with thick slices of Canadian bacon, a soft-boiled egg, and a stream of creamy hollandaise sauce.
“Eggs Benedict?” She turned to him. “This is all so expensive.” She lifted her hands, indicating not just the meal or the hotel room, but their whole trip. “I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to tell me, but are you sure you have enough money for all this? I may not have the money to buy a replacement car, but I have enough to pay my part.”
Donovan waved his hand in the air as if shooing her question away. “Don’t even worry about it. I inherited money from my grandfather when he passed away a few years ago. I never knew what to do with it, so it has been sitting in my bank account collecting interest.” He shrugged and took a bite of his breakfast.
Beth blinked, surprised at his nonchalance. She had never before met a man with money who didn’t like to show it in the form of fancy cars and clothes. And she rather liked that Donovan wasn’t like that.
She ate her Eggs Benedict and then dressed in jeans, a button-up shirt, and a jacket before leaving the hotel with Donovan. After a short walk, they hopped onto the closest cable car. The car was full, so they stood on the running board. When the car lurched forward, Beth teetered backward, knocking into Donovan. Clutching the pole, she tried to straighten herself, but Donovan wrapped an arm around her and held her to him.
“Stay,” he whispered in her ear.
She relaxed against him. Never in her life had she relished in the feel of a man’s arms around her as she did at that moment. And she realized it was probably because she hadn’t found the right man until Donovan. The craziness surrounding how they’d met didn’t escape her, but she no longer questioned how she felt—it would be like questioning how you could breathe even while asleep. Pointless.
While listening to the hum of the subterranean cable and the clang of the bells, Beth felt oddly zen-like. Not even the fog hanging thickly overhead dampened her mood.
At the China Town Gate, Beth linked her fingers with Donovan’s. Her gaze lapped up every detail of the gate. Three jade-green awnings hovered over the street supported by a stone base. Along the top of the highest awning stretched two copper dragons. Their heads and the spikes poking out of their backs were dark green. Two plump fish latched onto either end of the roof with their mouths, their bodies curled up so their tails pointed to the sky.
Two magnificent stone lions flanked the gate. During their flight, Beth read in a pamphlet that the male on the left, with his massive right paw on top of a ball, guarded the structure, and the female on the right, with a cub playing under her left paw, protected everyone inside China Town. Engraved into the stone above the small entryway on the right was Chinese calligraphy for peace and trust, while the characters over the left entry meant respect and love.
“There’s a belief that walking through the gate is good luck,” Donovan told her.
Her fingers flexed on his. “Let’s walk through it together.” Knowing what the characters on the left meant, she led him to that passage. Together, they walked up the three small steps and stepped forward. On the other side, she smiled at Donovan.
Right at that moment, the ground beneath her shook. Beth stumbled briefly before the shaking quit, and she found her footing. “Was that an aftershock?”
“It’s nothing to worry about,” he told her. “After a quake, it’s normal to experience aftershocks.”
“Sure.” But she wasn’t convinced.
Pushing aside her fear, she faced the town spread out before her, and immediately, felt as though she were in a different world. Red lanterns ran from one side of the street to the other. Flags of all colors dangled from the building fronts. Even the streetlights enchanted her; two small dragons twined the tops, propping up the ornamented boxes that would light up the streets after dusk.
While walking the length of Grant Avenue, Beth listened to customers and shop owners bargaining prices in loud Cantonese. The smell of musky incense, cigarette smoke, fish, vanilla, and Asian spices scented the air. They passed noodle shops and teahouses, bakeries and open-air markets. She enjoyed browsing among the colored vendors packed with jade jewelry, trinkets, and clothing. Being around all that culture made her feel rich. Tourists and locals of all races cluttered the streets. Many of them jostled her, but she was having such a great time that it didn’t bother her.
She soon found herself in Portsmouth Square. Scattered throughout the area were wooden benches. Several men played cards with flattened cardboard boxes as makeshift tables. Every so often, they encountered two men in a heated game of Chinese checkers. Crowds of interested bystanders circled them, anticipating the next move.
Beth paused in front of the six-hundred pound bronze sculpture of the Goddess of Democracy, another beautiful lady erected with a purpose. This Goddess—with her hands clutching a burning torch, her arms raised high above her head, and her hair blowing in a breeze—stood for human rights. Beside her was a playground full of delighted children using up their energy in play.
At the Kong Chow Temple, a temple for the Chinese God of War used for prayers of business and love, the hostess instructed Beth through a ritual that included bowing three times before an elaborate altar and throwing a pair of halved wooden goose eggs while making a wish. She cupped the egg halves in her hands and thought about possible wishes, but decided to ask a question instead.
Will Donovan and I bring David Buckland into custody?
She tossed the two halves before the altar and watched them land with the halves facing up. The hostess interpreted the meaning. “Yes.”
When they were outside, Donovan inquired about her wish. “I’m not going to tell, but trust me when I say it’s good for you, too.” She patted his shoulder.
For a late lunch, they ate Dim Sum—bite-sized portions of shrimp dumplings, steamed buns, rice noodle rolls, crispy fried squid—and drank jasmine tea.
They were on the way to the Golden Gate Fortune Cookie Factory when Donovan’s cell phone sounded. He pulled it from his pocket and answered with a terse, “Yes?” Beth watched him curiously. His face didn’t register a drop of emotion. “We’ll be there.”
He stashed his phone and faced her. “Buck is back. We have to go.”
Beth frowned. “Who told you he’s back?”
“The doorman.”
“Why would the doorman care, and why would he call you?”
