The Rock

Chapter 2

2

Olivia tried not to laugh at the sight of Jake’s face when they walked into Sonny’s Gym and the stench of male sweat and dirty socks assaulted them. Sonny’s was hard-core, focused entirely on boxing. Nothing but punching bags, free weights, a boxing ring, and a few ancient treadmills, along with a pile of dirty towels overflowing a hamper on the way to the locker room.

Some days, she was the only woman working out with the punching bags, but today two others were already practicing their jabs. Both of them took note of Jake; she noticed them look his way, then look again. Jake wasn’t much like the guys who hung out here at Sonny’s. He was plenty fit—tall and muscular—he didn’t ooze aggression and testosterone like most of the boxers here.

Jake was more of a playful charmer. He had a relaxed air about him. He always seemed on the verge of a smile, as if he was enjoying her company and had all the time in the world to listen. In her world, that was unusual. Since she’d become an investigator, she dealt mostly with cops, criminals, or clients so suspicious of their partners they needed outside help.

Jake didn’t fit into any of those categories. He wasn’t…a jerk. Maybe that was the right way to put it.

She had no idea what to do with a guy who wasn’t a jerk—other than her brother, Ethan. Which was certainly a sad commentary on her life in general. But that was just the way things were, and she’d never found any point in denying reality.

“I have to change, I’ll be right back,” she told Jake.

“So by padding, you mean…”

“Punching bags have lots of padding.” She smirked at him. “Why, what were you thinking?”

He grumbled something that sounded like “barstools,” while she hurried off to the closet that had been designated as the women’s changing room. While she changed into her workout clothes, she put together the pieces of information Jake had shared on the drive to the gym.

It was a wild story. Jake’s youngest sister, Gracie, had recently discovered that she wasn’t the biological child of the Rockwells. Instead, she’d been found in the woods as a baby. She’d gone looking for her mother and discovered that she was actually the child of Laine Thibodeau, the scream-queen movie star.

That was as far as Jake had gotten before they’d arrived at the gym, but it was enough to inspire a long list of questions.

For one—why hadn’t there been news coverage of Laine Thibodeau’s missing baby? The news media always obsessed about celebrity scandals. A kidnapped baby would be huge news. But Olivia had never heard a peep about that. A quick Internet search in the locker room confirmed it. No coverage of a missing baby. That didn’t make sense, unless someone was covering it up.

Two—was it really legal to keep a baby you happened to find in the woods? Surely the Rockwells would have contacted social services or the police. If not, why not?

But mostly—what did Gracie’s true parentage have to do with the death of Amanda Rockwell? That was what Jake was investigating, after all. That was why he’d hired Olivia. Did he think there was a connection?

Well, connections were her specialty. If one existed, she’d find it.

Correction: connections between pieces of information were her specialty. Connections with people were a very different story.

Once burned, forever wary, that was her.

When she got back to the floor of the gym, Jake was holding the punching bag for a tall Viking of a blond woman. She was smiling and chatting with him as she practiced her footwork in between uppercuts. In other words, even though he’d never set foot in this gym before, he’d already done more socializing here than she ever had.

“Hey, Olivia,” he hailed her as she drew close. “Gretchen was just telling me about the fight coming up. First one with a female headliner. Should be quite a show.”

“Pass. I’m here for the workouts, that’s it. Hi, Gretchen.”

“Hi, Olivia. You should think about it. A bunch of us are coming. Gotta show support for the ladies, right?”

She shrugged. “Good point. I’ll try to make it.” As a woman in a very male-dominated field, she didn’t have much extra time. She had a few trusted friends—an LA County deputy DA, a coroner’s assistant, other women who’d fought hard to gain their positions. They could all relate to each other and often exchanged tips and helpful career advice over after-work drinks. But the truth was, she was insanely busy and focused on her job. Everything in her life had to support that.

Even coming to Sonny’s was part of her job. If she didn’t stay fit and agile, she could get into serious trouble out in the field. Despite what Jake had said, she wasn’t the badass type. She was the work-her-ass-off type. And lately, she’d been wondering what the point was.

She dumped her gym bag on the bench against the wall and went to the nearest free punching bag. If Jake wanted to flirt with Gretchen, that was his choice. She needed to get her workout in before this evening, when she was planning to stake out a cheating husband’s love nest in West Hollywood.

Cheating husband. She knew all about that type. Right up her alley. She could write a book on those guys, starting with her own personal example.

Inspired by the thought of her ex-husband, she slammed her fist into the punching bag, sending it spinning—right into the side of Jake Rockwell, who’d just stepped up next to her.

He stilled the bag. “Damn, that’s a pretty good right jab. Were you thinking of someone in particular?”

She had to laugh at his perceptiveness. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Sorry about that. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, fine. Making a note not to get on your bad side.” He stepped behind the bag to hold it in place for her.

It was an oddly intimate position. Only a couple feet separated them, along with the punching bag. This close, it was hard to ignore Jake’s physical appeal. His heather-green eyes held a deep, amused twinkle that promised the kind of fun that simply didn’t exist in her life. His hair, in shades from honey to mahogany, hung to his jawline. He had a freaking dimple in his cheek when he smiled, though sometimes it was nearly hidden by a layer of scruff. His dreamy smile would melt any woman’s heart—and panties.

Except a woman who’d been so completely and thoroughly burned that she’d rather rip her panties to shreds than allow them to be melted by a charming man.

“You don’t have to hold the bag, I got this. I work out on my own mostly, unless Sonny’s available.”

“I can do it. Gretchen just trained me how. Why waste my new skills?”

She shrugged. “Okay then.” She slammed her fist into the bag. Bracing himself, Jake absorbed the impact through the padding.

“Nice. Still thinking about the same person?”

“Yes,” she said briefly. Not that she planned to expand on that answer at all. The tell-me-everything directive only went one way. “So now that you’re out of that folding chair, let’s hear the rest of the story. Why do you think Gracie’s news is connected to your mother’s death?”

He c****d his head at her. “Gotta say, your focus is amazing. You can work out and solve crimes at the same time?”

She laughed, already a little out of breath. “I think really well when I’m pounding away on a punching bag. So go ahead. Pick up where you left off. With your sister Gracie.”

“Gracie remembered something. She just told me about it a few days ago.”

Olivia paused to adjust her boxing glove. “Go ahead.”

“She remembered walking in the woods with Mom, just before the accident. Like maybe the day before, though she can’t be sure. On the trail, they ran into a college kid who acted very strange. As if he recognized Gracie. He stared at her for a long time, very shocked. Mom dragged her away and never said anything about it. Gracie forgot all about it until the other day.”

Olivia danced from foot to foot, warming up her legs before she launched into a combination she’d been working on. “So the theory you’re formulating is that this college kid recognized Gracie. Or at least thought she looked familiar. Maybe called someone.”

“Yes, that’s my working theory.”

“Which fits with how they didn’t want to talk to you. They have something to hide.”

“Exactly.”

“And you don’t know which guy it was.”

“Nope. And no way to figure it out. Except to call in the professional.” He smiled at her from behind the bag.

She tried hard to ignore his charm as she landed a flurry of light punches on the bag. Jake had a point. In general, secrets were hard to keep. Most people wanted to tell someone. These former frat boys were putting up a wall for a reason.

“What else? Tell me more. Tell me everything that’s passed through your mind, whether it seems important or not.”

“Well, I’ve wondered if someone paid them off. Rick McConor, the local kid involved, his father is a maintenance worker in Rocky Peak. No money, spends what he has at the local bars. But Rick somehow managed to go to college and business school and is now wealthy as f**k. And considering a run for Congress.”

“Great, a political connection. That’s all we need.”

She watched him brace his feet apart, readying for her next onslaught. He wore rugged, well-broken-in boots with steel tips and high-traction soles. A tidbit of info about him surfaced; he was a volunteer fireman in Rocky Peak.

That added another layer to his sexiness, she had to admit.

“Okay, what else? A sketchy memory from a seven-year-old isn’t going to get us very far.”

“That’s because you don’t know Gracie,” he said firmly. “I would never doubt her. None of us would.”

And that—his unquestioning support of his sister—made him even sexier in her eyes.

“Have you tried getting more details out of her?”

His eyes lit up, and he halted the bag as it swung toward her. “Brilliant. I knew I hired you for a reason. She and her boyfriend Mark are coming through town on their way to Japan. They have a three-hour layover. How about dinner somewhere near the airport?”

Dinner. With the disturbingly attractive and intriguing Jake. That sounded like trouble. “Have you forgotten the ground rules?”

One eyebrow lifted. “Nope, I memorized every one. No mockery. Take you seriously. Tell you everything. You didn’t mention anything about dinner.”

“That one’s so obvious I didn’t think I had to. I never go out with clients.”

“This isn’t going out. It’s not a date. It’s part of the investigation. You need to meet Gracie so you can interrogate her about everything she remembers and everything she’s learned. I’m just an amateur, I don’t know the right questions to ask.” He blinked at her innocently.

Very clever, she had to admit. Turning her teasing about his amateur status back in her face. Jake might be easygoing, but he was plenty sharp.

Also, his dimple flashed in the most aggravating way. “Fine, forget about dinner. They can eat on the plane. Those snack packs go a long way, they really do.”

She fought back a smile and landed an uppercut.

He poked his head from behind the bag. “What about a gym? Do you know of one near the airport?”

She gave a laughing groan and shook out her hands. “That’s okay, one workout a day is plenty.”

“A nice walk, then. Is there a park close to the airport? Somewhere we can stroll through some gardens or along a beach?”

The thought of a pleasant walk through the neighborhoods around LAX made her laugh again. “Strip clubs and long-term parking lots, that’s about it for scenery out there.”

“All right, you call it. They have three hours to spare.”

“If you figure in security, that’s more like an hour and a half. Fine, we’ll pick them up and take them somewhere nearby for dinner, or at least a drink. Just as long as we’re totally clear on the ground rules.”

“I’m totally clear on the ground rules,” he repeated.

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“They’re whatever you decide they are at any given moment.”

She surrendered to the smile that insisted on bursting out. He was just so entertaining. “You’re not just a pretty face, are you?”

“Man, I wish I had a notebook to mark that down.”