Page 11 of Marked for Obsession

A deep snort escaped his brother’s throat. “Sure you do. Just do me a favor. You hear anything even remotely connected to Miss Campbell or the supposed dead guy in your alley, give me a call.”

Not likely.“Of course.”

The look Declan gave said he didn’t expect that phone call any more than Jax expected to make it.

Ah, brother…you know me so well.

No, Jax wouldn’t be calling the cops. Not unless or until it became absolutely necessary. If someone was dumb enough to pull a stunt like the one their supposed witness claimed this close tohisplace of business…

Yeah, he wouldn’t be handing something like that over to the police. Not until after he’d delved out his own brand of justice, anyway. But something like that would need to be handled with discretion.

The kind Jax was very, very familiar with.

And if Penelope A. Campbell was mistaken—or worse, if she’d made the whole story up as some sort of sick need for attention—he’d deal with that shit, too. Because no one screwed with his livelihood and got away with it.

No matter how deliciously tempting they were.

2

2 days later…

“You sure youwant to do this?” Kyle held the small piece of folded paper between his forefinger and thumb but hesitated to hand it over.

Standing in front of the hospital elevators, Poppy waited for a group of fellow nurses to walk past before giving Kyle a curt nod.

“I have to do something.” She kept her voice low. “No matter how many times I call, whoever they hand me off to tells me the same thing. There is no evidence suggesting a murder took place in or near that alley, and unless something concrete does show up, the case is officiallynota case. Oh and they always add that bit about lack of department resources. Which I get,” she rushed to add. “But I know what I saw, Kyle. I also know I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t at leasttryto find out the truth.”

Her co-worker stared at her a moment longer before offering the piece of paper. “His name is Jax Monroe. From what my buddy said, the guy’s not cheap, but he’s the best in the business.”

Poppy opened it, frowning at the hand-written address. “This looks familiar.” She lifted her gaze. “Why does this address look so familiar?”

“Probably because you already put it in your phone’s GPS on Thursday night.” Kyle’s thin lips curved. “Monroe is the owner of Sin.”

“The nightclub?” Her voice rose in pitch as her eyes widened. When the elevator doors opened, she and Kyle waited for those inside to filter out before entering the enclosed space. “So this Jax guy owns a club,andhe works as a private investigator?”

“I know.” Kyle slapped the round button marked with a ‘P’ for the parking garage. “It sounds a little weird; I’ll admit. But I’m telling you… When my friend’s brother’s girl was being stalked, that Monroe guy was the only one who managed to get the evidence to prove it. Not only that, but he also caught the jerk in the act. From what my friend said, Monroe really put the hurtin’ on the guy before handing him over to the cops.”

Put the hurtin’…

“He beat the guy up?” Poppy felt her brows arch high.

“That’s what I was told. Scared the asshole so much, he never said a word to the cops about it, either.” Kyle shrugged. “Anyway, if you’ve got the money and you really want to find out what happened the other night, I’d say Monroe’s your best shot.”

She had the money. Being single and working multiple travel contracts a year, Poppy had been able to set aside a pretty decent nest egg.

I just hope Jax Monroe is worth it.

The elevator jolted to a halt seconds before the doors opened to reveal the garage’s cool concrete structure. Motioning for her to go first, Poppy stepped out of the cart ahead of Kyle.

“Thanks again for this.” She held up the paper still clutched in her hand. “I’ll let you know if anything comes of it.”

“No problem. Just hope he can help.” Her friend flashed a kind smile. “I know you’re off for the next few days, but you have my number. Keep me posted, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Parting ways, Poppy headed for her car. The soles of her tennis shoes created soft footfalls as she walked up the paved incline. Two parking spots away from her black Toyota Camry, she pulled her keys from her purse and pressed the fob to unlock the doors.

With a loud, exhausted sigh, Poppy slid behind the wheel. Setting the paper Kyle had given her in the passenger seat, she buckled herself in and fired up the car’s engine.

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