Tracking Shadows (Shadows of Justice 4)

by Black, Regan

  Good grief. If she'd sensed that it was no wonder he was alone. Last night had not been about seduction for secrets. Hell, last night hadn't even been about sex.

  Not for him anyway. What had it been about for her?

  Damned if he knew, since she wasn't here to talk about it. And damned if he wasn't going to throw himself into his job to avoid any more screwed up introspection. He couldn't waste more time on the wistful scenes of her sticking around, maybe her helping him here. It was all a pointless fantasy until he knew what brought her back to Chicago, back into his life and what it would take to keep her by his side.

  He shook his head. He was a grown man, capable and intelligent. If it was only sex to her, he'd deal with it. And deal with changing her mind, when he found her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  He'd barely put his butt in his chair when Jim stuck his head through the office door. "Ben sent details on the latest cigarette delivery."

  Micky waved him in. Within moments, both men were gawking at the combined audacity of Ben and Darlene.

  "Hell. They took a page out of Trina's tactical book."

  "Looks like," Jim agreed. "It worked too."

  Micky nodded, chuckling as he re-read the lively report. "That poor ferry captain."

  "You got proof of your coincidence anyway."

  "For now. Any word on the supplier of that packing material?"

  "The ownership is a freaking mess of dummy corporate fronts, but I tied it to one of Montalbano's defense contracts."

  Micky perked up even as dread settled in his gut.

  "Which means you were right about the access. Kyle hacked their employee records and found Crayland coming and going just before the labor dispute settled. I've got no idea how he's doing it. Must be dusting the material before it's bagged."

  "And it settles in shipment."

  "Yup. And the workers on the other end get affected as they go about their business," Micky finished. "Must be some powerful stuff."

  "According to the doc's report it is."

  Micky brought the report up, keyed in a search for various theories. "Ah. There we go." He highlighted the passage. "It is less effective when smoked."

  Jim snorted. "Sure keeps Chole under control."

  "True. Where is she?"

  "She ran her customer routes yesterday. Left again first thing this morning."

  "She brought back money?"

  Jim nodded. "Situation normal, aside from the pleasant attitude."

  "And where did Trina get off to when she left yesterday?"

  Jim shifted in his seat. Settling, he gave Micky a direct look. "We lost her. My fault," Jim stated. "I issued the assignment, but he wasn't prepared enough for disguises."

  Micky leaned back and drummed his fingers against his knee. "Disguises. Plural?"

  "Had to be. He tells me he had her through the first two stops. Says she was there one second and gone the next."

  Shit. She must have picked up the tail and applied an illusion to lose him.

  "You okay boss?"

  He couldn't answer that honestly. History and teamwork aside, Jim would never believe what Trina was truly capable of. "You bother to put anyone on her today?"

  "She hasn't left today."

  Oh, she was gone. Micky pushed the keyboard across his desk. "Pull up her keycard."

  "I put an alert on her damn keycard," Jim admitted while his fingers worked. "I'm not relying on video no matter what Kyle says. See, right here. She's in the gym."

  "Good." But he didn't believe it. "Got video in there?"

  "Working on it," Jim muttered. A few keystrokes later and Jim swore, shoving the keyboard back across the desk. "Looks like she switched cards with April."

  "Makes sense."

  "Does it? So why didn't you say something?"

  "Because she's long gone. If someone like her doesn't want to be followed they won't be."

  "Who is she, really?"

  How much to give away? He trusted Jim with his life, the man was a dedicated and loyal bulldog. If he said Trina was part of the program, she'd fall within Jim's protection as well, though she'd probably fight that new reality as hard as she'd fought everything else. At the moment, with her out there on the street and the military surely closing in on her, she didn't have the luxury of privacy or pride.

  "I went to school with her. We lost touch when the old Slick Micky tried to kill me for dealing sugar in school. Best I can tell she became an assassin."

  Jim paled. "You slept with a woman bent on killing you?"

  Of course Jim had known where he'd spent the night. Micky hated the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. "We can't be sure she –"

  Jim coughed.

  "Fine. 'Slick Micky' was probably her target. If she came to town on that kind of job. I like to think she's changed her mind since she learned I'm the man behind the operation."

  "You think that before or after you bedded her?"

  Micky leaned forward. "You need to be very careful here."

  "Someone needs to be more careful than you. She kidnapped Ben and Darlene, she's got serious street skills and now you tell me she's a hired gun. Out. For. You."

  "Not me. She was hired to take out the title."

  "You are the title." Jim shoved to his feet and paced like a caged lion. "What the hell is up with this persistent death wish of yours? She's got to be the mole, hell she probably took out Sis."

  "Not true. I have it on good authority she took out the grinder who killed Sis."

  "My God." Jim froze. "What would a grinder want with Sis?"

  "Me?" Micky shrugged. Trina had said Dakota hired Atlas, but assassins weren't the criminal banker's style. This reeked of Montalbano's interference. Micky watched his friend and security chief as the connections slammed together, molding into fresh and terrible conclusions. Likely the same conclusions he'd come to recently.

  "Montalbano is tired of waiting for you to abdicate," Jim whispered.

  * * *

  Trina fought another wave of guilt. It was tough not to blame the whole damned city for her new feelings and rediscovered conscience.

  There was her content life as an assassin before Chicago and her complicated life since taking Montalbano's contract. She felt a little ugly and a lot lonely, first sneaking out of Micky's bed, then his warehouse. Her incredible, lovely afterglow had tarnished so quickly. Right about the time she remembered who she was and what she'd done with her life.

  She slowly made her way to the financial district, waffling between extremes of completely foreign emotions. From the high of being with Micky, the man with the heart of the boy she'd loved, to the low of knowing any forever sort of future was simply a familiar, impossible fantasy.

  Micky did good work under the guise of a deadly reputation. She did deadly work and had the best rep in the business.

  She shook her head, hoping to shake off the hopeless and sad that threatened to break her heart.

  The real man behind the Slick Micky rumors that he'd allowed her to see was the one she was out here helping. That man needed her best effort. It wouldn't do Micky or his family any good if she let Montalbano win his deadly power play.

  Picking up her pace, she let emotion fall away, girding herself with logic as she approached the confrontation. Her brief time with Micky had taught her the value of a loyal team and helped her evaluate Dakota's set up.

  She'd asked Walker to keep her posted so she could make a stand for Dakota's crew. Risky, but necessary. They might not realize they needed her protection, might not believe a woman could offer said protection, but she was about to prove herself invaluable.

  Taking out Crayland would be sweet, but she hoped for a glimpse of Montalbano's reaction. That might be reward enough for leaving a warm bed full of a hot Micky. Her pulse kicked, an instant, hopeful reaction. Nope. No one's reaction equaled an even trade, but it was fun to consider nonetheless.

  "Damn if you're not temptation on two legs," Walker said with a know
ing grin from his seat at a little sidewalk bistro.

  Trina owned it, putting an extra strut in her stride as she joined him. "Good morning to you too." She took the chair next to his and ordered tea. "How's business?"

  "Up and down." Walker shrugged, his eyes darting to the alley across the street. "You made good time."

  "Michigan Avenue isn't so far away." She smiled for the waiter as he set up her tea service. "Nice place."

  The waiter left and Walker leaned closer. "We both know you're not staying on Michigan."

  Of course she'd expected him to tail her last night, and she'd lost the poor man without even resorting to illusion. "We both know where I stay is not your concern. Have me followed again and I'll leave you to deal with Montalbano's wolves on your own."

  Walker leaned back and crossed his arms. "I'll figure you out."

  "You'd be the first." Her recent actions proved even she didn't have a clue to her real self. She sipped her tea, watching the alley and considering her options. "Give me the update."

  "You know Dakota didn't just deal, he dealt with very specific amounts and more specific customers."

  She nodded, urging him to get to the point.

  "Last night a couple of Montalbano's boys came nosing around, getting chatty with our A-listers. Offering them something new."

  "What is it?"

  "Dunno." Walker grunted. "The sample knocked one of the ladies flat on her ass. I thought they'd take advantage of that, y'know? But they helped her to her car is all. She returned just twenty minutes ago."

  Trina remembered the only female named in Walker's report so far was a daddy's-money socialite who liked to promote new artists in the area.

  "She's still back there?"

  He nodded. Like any man who made a living off the weaknesses of others, he sensed her interest. "Want me to bring her by Dak– your office?"

  "No."

  "Then why the hell am I watching?"

  "I'll let you know." Trina was pretty sure the socialite, a senator's daughter, was the right mark, but she wanted to confirm a few details before moving in. "Just keep me posted."

  "You can't leave me hanging on this. I'm losing money every day Montalbano interferes with any part of my business."

  "So you want me to move them out right now?"

  "Hell yeah! Before I lose my customers to whatever this new stuff is."

  She stared at him. The guy was a stroke waiting to happen. "I'll go take care of this right now if you'll tell me why Dakota really sent Atlas after Sis."

  "Asked and answered sweetheart. I already told you everything I know about that."

  She finished her tea and blotted her lips. "Great. I'll be up in the office. Keep me posted on that." She tilted her head toward the alley where another long black sedan rolled to a stop. The man who exited wore a rumpled tuxedo jacket and she saw his shirt was unbuttoned when he turned to speak to whoever waited in the car.

  "Another return customer?"

  Walker swore. "I hate you."

  "Understood." She reached for her purse.

  He swiped at the sweat beading his upper lip. "Dakota gave me the contact info for the Sis job. I just followed his orders."

  A real leader, she thought. Micky could claim control of this operation in a matter of months. "Why that woman, that way?"

  "The target and timing were all on Dakota. Even the words he told me to pass on. 'Make an impact'," he said, putting air quotes around the phrase. "I didn't know he'd go and, y'know, take it literal and push her out the window."

  Trina shook her head.

  "Really. God's truth. No one knows what Slick Micky looks like, but a few of us know Sis because she helps – helped – get girls off the street. She was really the public face of the operation, y'know?"

  "Sis didn't know Dakota? They had no history?"

  "Nothing specific. She never poached any of my crew. I figured my boss was after the prime territory and sweet connections the Slick Micky's been working all these years. I mean my God. Anything –"

  "Anytime, anywhere. Yeah, I know." Again the facts pointed to Montalbano's personal vendetta against Micky, but what made him think he could get away with it?

  "This year's summit there was talk she was the Slick Micky, but I don't buy it. She reported to someone. And there's still plenty of chatter on the street about what he looks like and crap."

  Summit? Hard to imagine a crime boss conference. Clearly it mattered to those involved. Something new to research when returned to Dakota's office. Besides, Montalbano definitely knew Micky existed. Though he'd hired her to kill the man, he'd provided details and ideas of where to find him, including the route she'd been combing when Atlas murdered Sis.

  She said, "You still think your boss wanted Sis gone to drive Micky out of business?"

  Walker shrugged.

  She glared.

  "Come on, lady. That's all I know. You gotta do your part."

  She shot him a look that made him cower. He wasn't patient, but he was afraid of her. She'd triumphed in less favorable situations. She'd just take out the trash and put herself one step closer to removing Montalbano from Micky's future.

  "Whatever. Put the charges on the corporate account. I'll see you upstairs."

  * * *

  Micky nodded at Jim. Finally, they were on the same page. Montalbano, a man of undisputed mobster lineage, with current, legitimate ties to the defense department hated Slick Micky. Who better to hire a grinder than the guy with the hefty defense contracts?

  "Crap." Jim sat down hard and pulled the keyboard closer. "This email came through the filter and I put it in the 'Later' file."

  "What?"

  "It's where I put all the stuff that isn't quite crazy, but I don't have time to deal with."

  "Even stuff addressed to me?"

  "Yeah. Sis and I set it up years ago."

  "You filter my email?" How had he missed that?

  "Precautions, boss. Relax. It's worked for a long time."

  "But –"

  "You need to be very careful here," Jim tossed the words back in his face. "I didn't know the sender and the IP address was funky."

  "Email from Trina isn't spam."

  "Except I didn't know it was from her until right now. You have a personal address for that kind of thing anyway."

  "But this wasn't that kind of email." A simple statement while a complex knot twisted in his gut.

  "Nope." Jim jerked his chin toward the monitor. "Check it out."

  Micky frowned, reading a list of headlines. It was like a cryptic ransom note with the cut and paste fonts from various online news outlets. Men arrested, suspects charged or not, suspicions elevated, connections carefully implied. He couldn't see how anything they'd talked about reminded Jim of their current mess.

  "How is this helpful? And why do you think it's from Trina?"

  "Montalbano sure as hell didn't send it. If you think she's connected to him, knows anything about his plans, this makes sense. Especially if you're right about her feelings for you," Jim added. He cleared his throat and kept his eyes doggedly on the monitor.

  Smart man. Micky cued up a couple of the stories and dug deeper. Damned if he wasn't right. He muttered to himself, speculating what these separate events had to do with Trina. Or rather what Trina was planning to do about these separate events.

  "Boss?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Think she set you up?"

  "No." Micky thought about Trina's body sliding like hot silk against his. He thought about what he didn't say, couldn't have possibly said while they were making love. Last night wasn't pity and it wasn't a power play. He'd experienced both, could read women well enough to tell the difference. Felt confident he'd been reading Trina well enough.

  Her blue eyes had been clouded only with passion and his mind had been clear as they'd come together last night.

  "Okay. If I'm reading between the right lines here and Montalbano takes control of Dakota's operation, where does that leave
us?"

  "Absolutely screwed. If Montalbano uses his new drug to influence Dakota's clientele the world and all its funding is his oyster."

  "Effectively making Montalbano the Slick Micky."

  Micky met Jim's gaze and knew his friend was putting this on Trina, but it just wasn't possible. "Look, Montalbano spent the last two decades looking clean and operating dirty. Everyone knows it." Micky scrubbed his face. He was so damned tired of keeping up with the freaking rumors. "If he's moving on Dakota's circle it's about the money not the drugs. Blatant extortion was his grandpa's game." From an early age Micky's professional education had focused on the systems of old mob families, primarily how to avoid being a casualty or repeating the mistakes of others. Apparently Montalbano hadn't been as concerned with preventing a repeat of bad history.

  He'd never been an ally, but greed made him a more dangerous enemy now. And the man wasn't a fool. He wouldn't have put all this in motion without skewing the odds in his favor.

  "Shit."

  "Boss. I know you like her but..."

  "No buts. Montalbano may have hired her, that may be why she returned to Chicago, but she's not on the bastard's payroll anymore."

  "You said you weren't blind to her."

  Micky's temper snapped. "Would she have sent a warning about Montalbano moving on Dakota if she was on his side?"

  "Maybe. If being cryptic gets her off or lures you into the right trap."

  He bit back the rush of nasty words he would surely regret. Jim was trying to help, to bait him into thinking clearly. But right now he didn't care about friends, the past, or even teamwork. He knew what he'd felt last night, knew there was more to Trina than her hot temper and her cold profession.

  An assassin, sure, but not cold like Atlas. No matter how she'd gotten into the business, he would not believe she was a cruel automaton out simply for a payday.

  "She knew this wouldn't get to me."

  "What?"

  "She sent this to the filtered email just to be sure we had this conversation."

  "You've been smoking with Chloe," Jim accused.

  "Do I look any kind of agreeable to you?"