His Private Pleasure(30)

“Stay here,” Dylan barked, slamming the car into Park, then leaving it right in the middle of the road as he got out and shut the door with a resounding thump.

“Sure, no problem, master sir,” Liza murmured wryly, then swiveled in her seat and watched him stride back toward the sedan. The window was down and an attractive Hispanic man was leaning out the window. His bright smile remained intact, despite Dylan’s immediate and lengthy harangue. She couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but with the arm gestures and rigid body language, Liza could only assume it wasn’t a friendly hello.

He spun on his heel, leaving the man in midsentence, and stalked back toward her car. If Liza had thought she’d seen the dark, edgy side of Dylan Jackson, she now realized she hadn’t come close. And why in hell seeing him like this made her nipples hard, she had no idea.

Then a woman leaped from the sedan and began running after him. Liza’s eyes widened in surprise, but she was smiling by the time Dylan slowed, then stopped, hung his head and took a deep breath before turning to face the woman. Not that Liza enjoyed seeing him in the midst of what was apparently a situation gone badly out of control, but he was just sexy as hell when he displayed this cop-with-a-heart side of him. She couldn’t help it.

Of course, the appearance of the woman also made the situation hard to take too seriously. She looked like something out of a bad B movie. She was tall, or maybe she just seemed that way. Her bright red hair—no way a natural tone—had been teased to the limits of endurance. Just as the clothing she was wearing had been stretched to theirs. Her tight, black leather skirt ended high on tanned, surprisingly toned legs. Legs made even longer with the spiky, black plastic heels she wore. But it was the furry lime green tank top, encasing amazingly proportioned breasts that seemed to defy gravity, that really made the ensemble…special. It was a hell of a combo on a woman who looked to be pushing fifty.

“Now that’s a Vegas showgirl,” Liza muttered, as Dylan braced himself and the woman launched herself into his arms.

“Detective!” she squealed, quickly smoothing her hair and tugging her skirt down as Dylan disengaged himself from her clutches. “Don’t go off mad,” she said with a pout. “I made him bring me here. I was afraid. I’m sure Duggie knows I’m ratting on him and I don’t trust anyone but you to keep me safe.”

“Pearl, Dugan knows we were set to meet here,” Dylan said, jaw clenched. He swiveled his attention to the Hispanic man, who was now out of the car and approaching with his hands up, palms out, as if beseeching Dylan to calm down. “What in the hell were you thinking, Quin?”

“We need her testimony, D.J. If I didn’t get her out of town, she was going to leave on her own.”

“I thought you had her under lock and key?”

“Yeah, well, she managed to talk Moriarty into getting her some nail polish and—”

“Nail polish?”

Liza thought Dylan’s eyes were going to pop right out of his head.

“Honey, I wasn’t staying in that place a moment longer,” Pearl stated flatly. She folded her arms, plumping her already bulbous breasts until they came dangerously close to spilling out of the low-cut tank top altogether. Judging from Quin’s anticipatory expression, it was a calculated move on her part.

Liza smiled. This was someone who knew how to turn a situation around to her advantage, and who was unafraid to use whatever tools she had available. Liza admired that.

“I already suffered a great deal from letting a man pretend to take care of and protect me,” she said huffily.

“Right on, sister,” Liza said. Apparently louder than she intended, as the woman turned toward her.

“Who’s this?” she demanded, eyes narrowing. “Another cop?”

“No,” Dylan said flatly, then turned to Quin, not bothering to explain further. “Why didn’t you take her to a third location, alert me, and I’d have filed a new flight plan? I told you I didn’t want this here.”

The redhead’s unnaturally full lips quavered. “You didn’t want me, either?”

“Pearl—” Dylan began.

“Don’t start!” she screamed, waving him away. “Take me back,” she informed Quin as she stalked past him, strutting amazingly well on four-inch heels. Liza’s respect continued to climb.

“I might as well let Duggie kill me for all the good living does me,” she said, then stopped suddenly and dabbed at her eyes with the side of her thumb.

Liza looked at both men, neither of whom seemed to know what to say, then sighed and got out of the car.

“Liza, don’t—” Dylan began, but she ignored him and walked straight over to Pearl.

“Men can be morons,” she said bluntly.

Pearl sniffled, then slowly turned to look at her. “Damn straight. I don’t know why I agreed to this in the first place.” She glared at Dylan. “I thought there was at least one decent man left, but I guess I was wrong.”

Liza forced her lips to remain flat, no matter how badly they wanted to twitch when Dylan scowled. She waved him back when he stepped forward, and was surprised when he stopped, albeit reluctantly.

“Who are you?” Pearl asked.

“A woman who’s been burned by a man,” Liza said. “Came home and found him in bed with another chick.”

Pearl sniffed and patted her on the arm. “That’s awful, honey. Me, I’d have pumped one or two in his humpin’ ass.”

“If I’d had a gun, I might have,” Liza admitted. “But I’m glad I didn’t.” She grinned at Pearl. “Waste of lead. He was a jerk and didn’t deserve me, anyway.”

Pearl’s lips twitched slightly, then quivered again. “Yeah, at least my Duggie had the decency to break things off with me before he found Elaine.”

Liza reached out and fluffed the fur on Pearl’s shoulder. “Nice. Where did you find it?”

Pearl smiled now and dabbed at her mascara again. “Half-price sale at Thompson’s, just off the strip. I call it my purr fur.”

I bet you do, Liza thought. “I’m too short to pull off something like that. You’re lucky.”

Pearl snorted. “Yeah, that’s me all right.” Her lip quavered again. “Protected his ass for all these years. All these years I knew I was his special one. Sure, he married Elaine. I knew from the beginning I wasn’t going to be the missus, you know? His family demanded he marry better.” She shrugged, but Liza could see the hurt in her eyes. “So it wasn’t no real surprise when he ended it. He didn’t love her, you know, but he had balls enough to not screw around with me on the side once he got hitched. I admired that in him.” She picked at the fur between her breasts. “I knew I was still his special lady. In his heart.” She sucked in a short breath, then another, then the tears started to spill down her cheeks. “At least I thought I was. Until…until that bastard—” It was all she could manage between sobs.

Liza took her hands and pulled her into an awkward hug. She sent a sharp glance toward Dylan and Quin and a brief shake of her head when they went to step forward. She patted Pearl’s back. “It’s okay, sweetie, let it all out.”

And she did. Boy, did she ever.

“You’re wrong, you know,” Liza said quietly as Pearl cried. Noisily.

Alternately gulping and sniffling, Pearl lifted her head. Mascara had tracked heavily down her wet cheeks. “About what?”

“About being good enough for him. A man who truly loves a woman doesn’t care what anyone thinks. She’s worth his respect no matter what.”

“You saying he didn’t truly love me?”

Liza shook her head. “I’m saying he didn’t love you enough. Enough to respect you. You thought he respected you enough to walk away, but he should have respected you enough to tell his family to take a flying leap.”

Pearl nodded miserably, but said, “I don’t know. His family ain’t like a regular family, if you get my drift. But Duggie, he did love me.” She gulped down another sob. “What you said, though, about that respect thing…” She swallowed hard and had to try several times to continue on.

“It’s okay, nothing you say will surprise me. I used to work in Hollywood. There’s nothing I haven’t seen,” Liza said with a wave of a hand.

Pearl perked up immediately. “Hollywood? Really?” She hiccuped, then wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

“The guy I was telling you about? You ever watch the soap opera Steam?” Liza knew she shouldn’t be saying this; she hadn’t told anyone but Natalie what had happened. But there was some perverse pleasure in sharing it with Pearl. “Conrad Jones? He plays—”

Her eyes widened. “Straker. Wow. And I thought he was a hottie. Scum, huh?” She sighed, then hiccuped again. “Figures.” She smiled wistfully. “I always had this dream about going to Hollywood. Pretty silly when you think about it. A girl like me?” She shook her head and dabbed at her mascara again.

“What? ‘A girl like me,’ my ass,” Liza stated. That seemed to startle Pearl. “Just because some jerk-off doesn’t appreciate you is no reason to think he knows his butt from a hole in the ground. What did this bastard Duggie say to you to make you think you weren’t good enough?”