THE HEART TEACHES BEST (REAL ROMANCE COLLECTION Book 2) Read online

  THE HEART TEACHES BEST

  M.J. Schiller

  Prologue

  The call had come in the night before—murder at Phat Jack’s, the newest club in downtown L.A. When Cooper got there, several squad cars already occupied the parking lot, slanted haphazardly across the entrance. Their lights cast blasts of colors onto the surrounding buildings, reminding him of the laser lights bouncing around the dance floor inside. He scooted under the yellow tape, flashing his badge at the uniforms who were trying to keep the curious onlookers back. The body of Sydney Essex, the famous author, had been found on the pavement next to her car, her deep blue eyes wide and unseeing, ligature marks prominent on her slender neck, head tipped at an odd angle.

  Cooper was getting the details from the first to arrive on the scene when the blonde broke through the crowd, ducking under the tape and running, screaming, toward the car. Two uniforms caught her up by the waist, though she struggled against them, hysterically calling out, “Syd! Syd! Oh, my God! No! No!” She collapsed in their arms, a puddle of tears melting onto them as they stood, emotionless, not allowing themselves to be affected by her pain as they had been trained to do.

  “Who’s that?” he asked.

  “Must be the sister,” the officer he was talking to responded, shrugging. “Looks like the vic.”

  Cooper tuned out the rest of the conversation as he looked at the crumpled form of the crying girl on the sidewalk. They hadn’t reached the next of kin yet, so how did she know to come to Phat Jack’s? Then it dawned on him, she must have been meeting her sister here. So she was looking forward to drinks with her sister one minute, viewing her broken body the next. He knew they were supposed to distance themselves from the victims, but during times like these, it was nearly impossible.

  Chapter One

  Cooper Sullivan nursed his scotch, letting his eyes roam over the crowded bar. He didn’t know what he was doing there, but he always found himself returning to the scene of the crime.

  He found it helpful to immerse himself in the environment. He wanted to figure out the players and the playing field. From what he could tell so far, the new club was about the most pretentious place he’d ever been in. Definite haven for the young and rich. He stuck out like a sore thumb; his suit was not as pressed, his shoes not as expensive or polished, even his posture was too loose. He felt completely out of place, and glad of it.

  He swiveled on his stool and admired the bar set up. At least that was interesting. Multicolored bottles of every alcohol known to man were sitting on a glowing, translucent polymer shelving, backlit against the mirrored wall which ran the length of the deep, dark mahogany bar, giving the place a sort of sci-fi feel. A black leather bumper covered the edges of the bar, complimented by a white tube of lighting, adding another futuristic touch. The bartenders wore black tuxedo vests, males with tight, short-sleeved shirts, females with no shirts at all, red bow ties around their necks, giving them an elegance that allowed them free reign to overcharge their customers.

  As he soaked everything in, Cooper’s eyes landed on the reflection of a young woman in the mirror. Her long, straight, blond hair was twisted up in a clip, and she wore an elegant, short black dress which v-ed down temptingly across her chest. On her right shoulder hung a black evening bag from its long, rhinestone strap, sparkling bold against the black, silky fabric of her dress. He studied her face. It looked so familiar, somehow. She had a long graceful neck rising to a sculpted chin, and big, blue, doe eyes with long lashes. He turned his head so he could get a look at her straight on. She tapped her foot up and down as she sat with legs crossed, the fabric of her dress pulled beguilingly above the knee. Her elbow was on the bar, chin on her fist. Was she waiting for someone?

  As Cooper watched, she looked up and caught his eye. He smiled, and she gave a nervous half-smile before dropping her eyes and looking away. He was not the only one who felt out of place in this environment; he was sure of it. He found the woman’s reaction to him so charming he began to wonder why someone like her was there in the first place. A large, African-American man approached her, blocking his view, and he turned away.

  He took another drink of the scotch, letting it roll around on his tongue before swallowing it. A loud trill of feminine laughter, accompanied with the low hum of male posturing, drew his attention in the other direction. Three beefy-looking guys in shirts and ties were entertaining a black-haired siren in a red dress to his right. She was the opposite of the girl to his left, totally at home in the bar scene. Her dress was short and tight, with fringes at the bottom like a 1920’s flapper. It sparkled all over, and her breasts all but flowed out of the top, pressed up as if someone took a rolling pin to her midsection to form the mounds above it. She reached up now and ran a long, painted fingernail under one of her male entourage’s chin, making all three take in a breath and adjust their stances, hopeful. He wondered if they had any idea how foolish they looked as she played them like an orchestra’s well-tuned string section. He chuckled to himself and shook his head. Poor slobs. More than likely none of them even stood a chance. His bet was on the bartender the girl kept flitting her eyes toward.

  He leaned back against the bar, and caught sight of the blonde again, this time as she was being led out onto the dance floor. The large man with her, his skin a dark-chocolate brown, moved his hand from her elbow to the skin of the small of her back, where the dress gave way to silky flesh. Cooper saw the girl flinch at the man’s touch, and instinctively sat up straighter, his body on the alert. He didn’t know why his jaw became tight and his stomach knotted; he just knew he didn’t like the way the man was touching her.

  The two began to slow dance to a sultry song, swaying on the floor amidst the others. When another couple blocked his view, he shifted over a seat so he could still see her. The man now put his colossal paw under the girl’s chin and lifted her face. She was shaking her head and not looking him in the eye, her face flushed but, he guessed, not from the dancing. The man pulled her closer, but body language was clear, as she leaned her upper body as far away from him as possible. His hand slid down from where it was holding hers to grip her wrist. She seemed to be struggling with him now as he leaned in, as if to kiss her. Cooper sat up and took a step forward, but she abruptly pulled out of her partner’s grip and began rushing toward the bar, her jaw set. The big man trailed after her.

  “Come on, baby. Don’t be like that, now.” He grabbed the blonde around the waist and spun her toward him.

  “Get your hands off me!” she hissed, passion, and perhaps fear, heating her words as she pushed him.

  Maybe seeing the fire in her eyes, he released his hold, backing away. “All right. All right.” He chuckled at her reaction, watching her butt like she was a piece of meat and he was the world’s hungriest carnivore. “I’ll take it slow.”

  “Just ‘take it’ someplace else,” she said with finality, but he didn’t appear to get the message.

  Cooper tried to act preoccupied as the girl returned to the stool one seat over, tilting his glass back as she raised her hand to order another drink. The man stepped, again, between them. When he spoke, she jumped, seeming surprised to hear his voice so close. He slipped his arms around her waist. “Come on, baby,” he begged, his voice velvety smooth. “You know you want to.”

  “Stop! Please! I’m not interested!” The desperateness in her voice had Cooper setting his drink down. As he turned, he saw the man’s hands come up from her waist. He couldn’t tell for sure, but he thought the man had touched her breasts. His suspicion was confirmed a few seconds later when he felt a few drops hit him as the girl whoo
shed the man with her drink and turned to leave.

  “Listen, bitch! Nobody throws a drink in my face.” The man grabbed the girl roughly by the arms.

  “Let her go.” Cooper’s voice was a low growl.

  He saw the big man’s back stiffen. With as little effort as it took to pop a beer cap, the man tossed the girl aside. She crashed into the bar and fell against the stool, sliding down even as she attempted to right herself. Her attacker turned around slowly and Cooper stepped up until they were chest-to-chest. The dark-skinned man stared down his somewhat flattened nose at him. He was a good deal taller than Cooper’s six-three, and weighed maybe seventy-five pounds more. He noticed now how truly massive the man’s arms were, but it only made him madder. Why the hell did a guy like that need to push a woman around?

  “You gonna do something about it?” his opponent snarled.

  “Yeah. I’m going to do something about it.” He shook his blond hair out of his eyes, ready to get a couple of shots in before the brute pummeled him. The bartender reached across the bar just as a couple of bouncers made their way over to the fray.

  “No one’s pushing a woman around in here,” the bartender snapped. The distraction allowed the bouncers time to reach them. They clasped their hands on the big man’s shoulders and grabbed a hold of the back of his pants. “Get out of here, and don’t show your face in here ever again,” the bartender added, brave from his position behind the bar. The troublemaker shook off the bouncers and took a swing at Cooper. He ducked and came up, landing a punch in the man’s ribs. The bouncers seized the man once more and started pulling him away.

  “Okay, okay! Damn!” He shrugged them off again, but seeming to measure the aggressive stares he was getting from every man in the room now, he seemed to decide to cut his losses. Straightening his suit coat, he turned and strode out of the room, the bouncers following in his wake.

  Cooper bent down and offered the girl his hand. She had been watching, wide-eyed and stunned, from her position on the floor. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned by the way her hand was shaking in his.

  She found her voice. “Y-yes. Yes. Thank you.” She looked confused and he wondered for a moment if she hit her head. “I…I…this was all wrong. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry.” She looked at him, tears in her eyes, and then turned and rushed away.

  “Wait. Wait!” He hurriedly pulled out his wallet and plopped some bills down on the bar. He had just recognized her. She was the sister of the victim.

  Chapter Two

  Laney Essex pushed through the crowd inside Phat Jack’s, blinded by her tears, angry at herself for causing a scene. When she hit the doorway to the parking lot, she stumbled, hearing a crack as her heel separated from her shoe. “Dammit! Dammit!” she screamed, her voice reverberating off the nearby buildings as she entered the empty parking lot. She felt like such a fool. What had she hoped to accomplish by coming back here tonight? It made her ill to look at the parking spot where her sister’s car had been, occupied now by a red convertible. How could this have happened to Sydney?

  Sydney had called Laney the night before, asking to meet for drinks; telling her, cryptically, she had something to discuss. Laney, happy to set aside her night of grading papers, scrambled out of her PJs and into her bar-hopping outfit, snug jeans and a sheer black and white blouse over a lacy, black cami.

  As she approached the new club, she saw a crowd gathered outside. Unsure about what was going on behind the yellow police tape, she scanned the curious faces for her sister, excited about a chance to spend some time together, complaining about their domineering mother, or hearing about Sydney’s newest book. Sydney had teased her when she found out she was already in her pajamas at seven-thirty, telling her she was becoming an old maid at twenty-three. Laney planned to order a pair of shots when she arrived, to prove to her older sister she was no stick-in-the-mud, but she was having trouble making her way to the door. She heard the voices around her, coming from all directions.

  “They’re not letting anyone in or out.”

  “…strangled right in the parking lot…”

  “I can’t believe it! We must have walked right by.”

  As she worked her way through the mass of bystanders, looking at every blonde, and realizing, when each one turned to talk to someone, that it wasn’t her sister, a sick feeling stole over her.

  She’s probably inside, she told herself, to stem the panic that was now rising to choke her. Or she’s late. She’s always late. She was moving to the front of the crowd, trying to steal glimpses over people’s shoulders at the police officers gathered around the car. That’s not her car. That’s not her car! But as she nudged past the last person blocking her view, she saw it was. Her knees buckled, but she made it under the tape, between two policemen who had become complacent with the well-behaved crowd.

  “Syd! Syd!” She saw her blond hair, and—the shoes. They were Laney’s shoes. The shoes Sydney had borrowed before her trip. “Oh, my God! No! No!” Her mind collapsed inward with the final horrified scream. The men grabbed her, and she stared in utter shock at the scene before her, overcome with grief.

  Now she stood, the next night, reliving the agony. Things shouldn’t go on as normal. There shouldn’t be a car in that place. A woman had died here while people were dancing and drinking inside. Laney had come back to try to make sense of it all, to find some clue to explain why someone would want her sister dead, and instead, she had almost started a fight. She hobbled on the broken shoe to her car, leaning against it, and staring, uncomprehendingly at the heel she had picked up. It was torn, and broken, like Sydney had been.

  * * *

  Cooper burst through the door, the cooler air a relief on his warm skin. He looked around for the blonde, not seeing her at first, then caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned to see her sliding down the side of a car as she had slid down the stool inside. As he moved in that direction, she grabbed her legs, put her forehead down on her knees, and sobbed uncontrollably. He knew, as a cop, he was supposed to remain impassive, being the calm source of strength for the victim. But he hadn’t quite learned how to manage that yet, hadn’t built up the layer of callousness needed to turn away from another’s tears.

  “Hey. Are you okay?” He squatted down and put a hand on her shoulder. That’s a stupid question. Of course she’s not okay. She’s sitting yards from where her sister was brutally murdered.

  She jumped at his touch and tried to rise, swallowing her sobs. “Y-yes, I-I’m okay.” She stood, lopsided, which would have been comical in another situation, and he could see now she held a damaged shoe in her hand. She followed his gaze. “It’s broken,” she explained in a childlike way, still in a daze, wiping at her tears with the back of a hand.

  “I see.” She stared at it with a befuddled expression. “Why don’t you let me drive you home?”

  “No, no. That’s okay.” She shrunk away from him, perhaps afraid, after what had happened inside, of his having bad intentions.

  Cooper reached into his suit coat for his badge, glancing around. “I’m a police officer. You’re in no shape to drive. Why don’t you let me take you home? You shouldn’t be here.”

  She hung her head and paused for a few breaths before she said, her voice small, “Okay.”

  “If you want, I’ll drive your car home, and have another policeman meet me there and drive me back here to get my car.” She nodded without saying anything and removed her other shoe. He helped her around to the passenger’s side, tried the handle, but it was locked. She stood by his side, still looking at her hands wordlessly. “Ms. Essex?” he prompted. “The keys?”

  She peered up at him, seeming curious for a second about how he knew her name, searching his face for an answer to a question she couldn’t articulate. Then she rummaged around in her purse for the keys. After several moments he offered to find them for her, reached in, and pulled them right out. He opened her door and she slid in, staring straight forward. He shook h
is head, making sure she was all in before closing the door. He returned to the driver’s side, climbing in awkwardly and moving the seat back to accommodate his longer legs. The engine of her racy two-seater roared to life, and Cooper backed out of the parking space. He got her to mumble an address, and shifted into drive.

  Chapter Three

  Laney stared out the window, the speed and her tears blurring the streetlights to long streaks of white as they drove. The police officer had turned the radio on low, to some music he no doubt believed would soothe her, but there was no soothing her now. Sydney was gone. Gone in a flash of light. Gone in the twinkling of a star. Gone forever. She couldn’t comprehend it. How could someone who was so full of life—so bright and vibrant—be snuffed out without a sound? Without the world even blinking?

  She started sobbing again, too lost and exhausted to be embarrassed anymore. The policeman reached over and rubbed her back. She felt bad for almost getting him into a fight. If that jerk had hurt him…she didn’t even want to think about it. She realized, suddenly, they were no longer moving, but she didn’t know how long they had been at a stop. She raised her head from her hands and could see the familiar parking lot of her condo.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she blubbered. “I should go.” She tried to open her door but it wouldn’t open. She continued to pull on the handle and slam her shoulder into the door over and over again, becoming mad. He reached over and put a hand on her nearest shoulder. His touch made the anger melt away. She fell against the door, overwhelmed by a new bout of tears.

  Cooper let his passenger cry, wanting to pull her into his arms, but unsure of how she would take that, and whether it would be appropriate at all, as an officer of the law, for him to do such a thing. But he wasn’t thinking as a police officer right now, he was only thinking of comforting her. She was incredibly good-looking, even as she was now, eyes swollen, hair disheveled, body drooping like one of the plants on his front stoop. He tried to put that out of his mind.