Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4)

by Adrienne Giordano

  Fallyn didn’t wait for a response and headed for one of the closed doors.

  “Wait! I’m not supposed to let anyone in there unless Jordan is with them.”

  Waving her off, Fallyn pushed open the door and disappeared inside the office.

  Again, Tony the un-sigher went into maintenance mode. “Where’s the cafeteria?”

  “The cafeteria?”

  “Yes.” He waggled a finger. “Go find Jordan.”

  Clearly thankful for the reprieve, the intern hopped up. “Yes. Absolutely. I can do that. It’ll only take a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  The intern rounded the desk, hustling out and Tony moved to the doorway of Heather’s office.

  “You know,” he said, “you could have given the kid a break and waited for her to find Jordan. She’s crapping her pants. Let’s not get her fired to boot.”

  Fallyn had already tossed her purse on the giant desk and started in on the drawers. “Jordan knows I’m a pain in the ass, and she won’t care. I’m family and I’ll tell her I promised Emily I’d stay out until they got back, but oops…I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “And you called me a pain in the ass. Who’d a thunk you were even worse?”

  “Shocking, I know.” She shoved the drawer closed, moved to the next one. “Do me a favor, start on the bookcase. See if she’s got anything hidden behind the books. That was a favorite hiding spot for her when we were kids.”

  To his left, along the wall, sat a sofa with a bookcase anchoring the other side. Before he could move, voices from the outer office erupted. A brunette, not much older than the intern, and an older man filed in from the hallway. He’d seen them the previous night when he’d chased off the reporters.

  Tony swung his thumb. “We got company.”

  The brunette pushed by him, followed by the man. “Fallyn!” she said. “What are you doing? You can’t just rummage in Heather’s desk. You shouldn’t even be in here. There could be sensitive information in there.”

  The intern scurried in and Tony saluted. “That didn’t take long.”

  “They were already on their way back.”

  Still at Heather’s desk, Fallyn continued her search. “I’m not interested in the secrets of our U.S. government, Jordan. I know most of them anyway.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “I can’t say.”

  The older man stepped closer. “Fallyn,” he said, “you really need to calm down and take a step back.”

  And, yeah, Tony’s shit-meter went ballistic. Fallyn had mentioned Jordan’s father was an old family friend, but even still, his tone sucked. And with all of them facing Fallyn, it looked like a damned firing squad. Jordan spun back and angled around him on her way to the outer office. He took over her spot next to the desk.

  Fallyn opened another drawer. “Carl, the last thing I need to do is calm down. I’m sure Jordan told you, if you didn’t already know, but Heather had a heart condition.”

  “I just found out.”

  “Then I don’t need to bring you up to speed. Aha.” She held up two vitamin bottles and shoved them at Tony. “We’re taking these.”

  “Okay,” Tony said.

  Being a smart man who’d grown up with five women, he knew when not to argue. Not that he would have anyway. The woman had a right to figure out what happened to her sister.

  Carl poked a finger at Tony. “Who are you?”

  “Tony Gerard. I got the press out of your face last night. Point at me again and I’ll take that finger off.”

  Clearly entertained, Fallyn gave him a thumbs up. “I should hire you.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and reached for the last desk drawer. “Tony is a friend, Carl. He’s helping me sort through Heather’s things. Now, if the rest of you are not going to help me, please leave.”

  Carl held two hands up. “Fallyn, dear, I know you’re upset. Heather’s death—”

  “Upset?” She rummaged through the drawer, tossing folders, notepads, a makeup bag, on the desk as she went. “I’m beyond upset. My sister just died. If that weren’t enough, she had a heart problem she chose not to share with me. One that’s apparently genetic and—oh, gee—maybe Fallyn should be tested too? But that’s another issue. I’ll have to live with the fact she kept it from me. And that hurts. I think have a right to be just slightly upset about that. Because,”—she threw her hands out—“guess what, kids, my sister’s body is loaded with Perisoladol, a drug that causes arrhythmias. Which, as you can imagine, is not good for someone with a heart condition. I might be having a goddamn arrhythmia right now myself. So, yeah, I think I’m allowed to be upset.”

  She slammed the drawer, stood tall, set her hands on her hips and looked at Tony. “Am I right or am I wrong?”

  Crazy woman. But, sick fuck that he was, he loved it. “You have the right to feel however you want.”

  “Good man. Thank you.”

  Her cell phone rang and she dug it out of her purse. “Lovely. My Dad. Let’s all pile on.” She punched the button. “Hi, Dad…Well, I’m going through Heather’s office. There are some things we should talk about… No, Dad, I’m not causing trouble.” Jordan entered the room and Fallyn glared at her. “I don’t care what Jordan said. I’m not hysterical.”

  This was dirty pool. That snitch Jordan had called Fallyn’s father. And now she stood behind her own father, her face a mix of concern and smug.

  Sneaky witch.

  Through the phone, Fallyn’s Dad unloaded on her. The words weren’t clear, but the yelling came through and Jordan and her father stood, nodding their approval.

  These people? Seriously wacked.

  “Dad, I’m looking for something. I’m trying to help…Why are you screaming at me? … I know you lost a daughter, believe me… No…I’m not trying to aggravate you.”

  She looked up at the ceiling and closed her eyes while Jordan and her father watched the show and Tony’s shit-meter finally exploded.

  Not letting this happen.

  He smacked his hands together. “You know what? I think we’ll give Fallyn the room. Family privacy. Everyone out.”

  “We are family,” Carl said. “I’m not leaving,

  “Yeah, you are. When Fallyn is ready to talk to you, she’ll let you know.”

  After a three second stare down, the man got the full brunt of Tony’s don’t-make-me-kick-your-ass stare and spun toward the door.

  “Thank you,” Fallyn said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

  He paused a second, meeting her gaze and—bam—like a punch to the chest, his air locked up. Fallyn, in her designer suit and killer heels, those green eyes so intense and…hot…rattled something inside him. In a big way.

  Focus here, pal. He followed Jordan and her father out the door, closing it behind him. Blocking the doorway, he crossed his arms, and forced air into this lungs.

  “Look,” Carl said, “I’m not sure who you are, but I’ve known this family for years, and you’re not helping.”

  I’m not helping? Really? “Actually, sir, I don’t think I’m the problem.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Tony shrugged. “She’s grieving. Maybe you could give her a little space.” He looked over at Jordan, once again hiding behind her father, her lips pinched. “Fallyn is looking for Heather’s medications. Have you been through her desk? Did she keep any here?”

  When she remained silent, Tony shook his head. “You people are ridiculous.”

  Carl nudged closer. Any other time, Tony would have found it humorous since he had a least eight inches on the man and outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Talk about a Napoleon complex.

  “I want to know who the hell you are. If you’re suddenly so close to Fallyn, why have I never met you?”

  “Sir, all due respect, my relationship with Fallyn isn’t your business. When she gets off the phone, she’ll decide what she wants to tell you.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Sur
e he knew. He was a retired State Department employee turned contractor. Once an assistant to the Secretary of State, Carl Lomax had all sorts of connections in DC and elsewhere. Rumor had it, he was the guy to call when a deal between two countries needed to be made. The ultimate power broker. “I do. I also don’t care. Fallyn is my concern.”

  Behind him, the door swung open and he slid to the side. He took in Fallyn’s puffy eyes and downturned lips and a chunk of him broke away. He knew grief and it sucked. On all levels. But if she’d been crying, she’d hid it well.

  He grabbed her forearm. “You good?”

  “I’m fine. Come in.” She motioned him in, but held her arm up before baby Napoleon and Jordan could enter. “Just Tony. I need a minute.”

  She closed the door behind him, plastered on a cheery smile. “Welcome to my madness.”

  “Tough crowd.”

  “Thank you for clearing them out of here. My dad is—” She hesitated, looked up at the ceiling then met his eyes again. “Having a slight breakdown.”

  “Understandable.”

  “Heather was the good one. His favorite. The daughter he was proud of.”

  Un-hunh. What the hell was he supposed to do with that one? Because seriously, he didn’t get it. He had four sisters and sure there were times when his mother liked one of all five of her children better than the other. None of them were perfect, but each of them, in their own twisted way had moments of perfect.

  His mother saw all of those moments.

  “You know,” he said, “I gotta say, I don’t get that. You’ve built a business, a tough business in a town that will eat someone alive if they screw up.”

  “She was a senator.”

  “Oh, right, because senators are the epitome of perfection. They own the high moral ground. Please. Honey, you wouldn’t have a job if senators didn’t fuck up. From where I’m standing, it sucks that the people around you—people who are supposed to love you—get in your face about crap they shouldn’t be getting in your face about. You’re going through something here and all they can do is yell at you? I don’t get that. But hey, that’s probably just me.”

  “Oh, snap.”

  “What?”

  She grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him forward, her gaze glued to his lips and—hell—his boss wouldn’t like this much.

  She kissed him.

  An all-out assault of lips and tongue that instantly made him hard. Because, yes, folks, he was a man and when a beautiful, accomplished woman damn near climbed on him, he responded.

  Sue me.

  He wrapped his arms around her, hauled her up on her toes and gave as good as he got, matching her, stroke for stroke, with his tongue. She looped her arms around his neck and arched into him, her toned body curving into his. Damn, that felt good.

  No, sir, Grey would not like this. At all. He’d never been one to mix business with pleasure, but right now, pleasure was sure outmanning the business part.

  Oops.

  Once again, his uncle’s voice was in his ear, lecturing him on the principles of being a gentleman.

  Being a man.

  Fallyn was hurting. Vulnerable. He shouldn’t be using that for his own pleasure, but he also wouldn’t be the one to back away and risk her thinking it a rejection. No. He’d enjoy this crazy effing moment and chalk it up to her blowing off some steam.

  He pulled her in tighter, let his lips wander along her jaw and worked a soft moan from her.

  “This is so not good,” she said.

  He laughed. “Was just thinking the same thing.”

  “We should stop.”

  “Sure should.”

  “Is it bad that I don’t want to?”

  “You’re asking a guy with an erection the size of Texas?”

  Fallyn burst out laughing and the sound ricocheted against the walls of her dead sister’s office and that fast, it was over, the supremely excellent energy of that kiss, gone. Still laughing, she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

  “No,” he said. “Thank you.” Time for a little levity. “Because now I get to walk out of a senate office building at full salute.”

  Again she laughed. “Oh, my God. You’re such a pig. But, truly, you saved me from a major meltdown.”

  “Glad I could help.”

  “You did more than that. No one ever takes my side. Everyone piles on. Normally, I can handle it. It’s like some weird form of entertainment to them and they love to watch me struggle. I don’t like to give them that satisfaction, but today…Well, today, you gave me exactly what I needed. Support.”

  “Well, sweetheart, I think it’s time they stop piling all their shit on you.”

  She stared up at him, her sad eyes a little brighter. “Yes. I think you’re right.” She tugged on the lapels of his jacket and stepped back. “Now, before the cops catch up with me to relieve me of Heather’s meds, we need to send a few of those pills to a lab for testing. I want to get ahead of this before the press gets hold of it.”

  * * *

  Fallyn felt like her world was spinning off its axis. She’d lost her twin, and now she suspected Heather might have been murdered.

  The panic started low in her stomach the moment her dad had called. Carl and Jordan had been yelling at her, her father had been yelling at her, and all she wanted to do was put down the phone, lock the doors, and cry.

  Fallyn Pasche did not cry, by God. Ever.

  Thank the universe, the feeling passed quickly. She was back in fighting form within seconds because of Tony Gerard.

  Tony had been there, ushering Carl and Jordan out, giving her a moment to speak to her father in private. A familiar calm had settled over her. Work the case, she’d reminded herself, even while her father was reading her the riot act.

  Heather is my client. Everyone else can go to hell.

  Tony’s encouragement, his resolute support when she’d been close to a meltdown, had brought the fragmented pieces of her brain and emotions back to center. She’d been so relieved, so surprised at his unwavering help, that she’d lost her mind and kissed him.

  So not the proper response to finding out my twin may have been murdered.

  Which brought her back to the gnawing panic under her skin. There was more in Heather’s office she needed to look through, but Detective Hollister had called for the third time and she couldn’t blow him off much longer. The U.S. Capitol Police had called him and were now working with him. She should expect a call from them as well.

  So far, the CSI techs had found no fingerprints that didn’t belong in Heather’s townhouse. Heather’s, Eric’s, Fallyn’s, Jordan’s, and Carl’s. A bunch of others’, but duh, there had been dozens of people at the townhouse the previous day. Dozens, including other Congressmen and women. Even the president.

  Hollister had spoken to Heather’s doctors and the pharmacy tech where the prescriptions on record had been filled. Nothing seemed remiss. The next step, he’d told her was to send the prescription bottles from Heather’s place to a lab for analysis.

  Fallyn had the bottles in her purse. As Tony drove across town to the Metro precinct, she snuck one pill out of each bottle and snapped a picture of the pill and the prescription label on the outside before dropping the pill bottles into a plastic baggie. The detective hadn’t mentioned vitamins and supplements and Fallyn hadn’t volunteered that information. Once Det. Hollister spoke to Jordan, he’d no doubt find out about Heather’s health nut status, but by then, the vitamins would all be at a private lab Grey had on speed dial.

  “You’re quiet,” Tony said as he hooked a left and dodged the insanity known as DC traffic.

  “Are you complaining?”

  He smirked, his mouth lifting into a sexy little tilt. Oh, the man had a way about him.

  “Nope. But when a woman like you is quiet, it’s not necessarily safe for the rest of us.”

  “Ha!”

  “What’s up? What are you gnawing on?”

  “Aside
from my dead sister?”

  Tony jerked one shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. There has to be something somewhere that’ll give us a lead. I know everyone thought she was perfect, but you know as well as I do, the perfect ones have the biggest secrets.”

  Fallyn sat a little straighter, swiveled her head to Tony. Sensing the energy change, he glanced over. “What?”

  “Miss Perfect.”

  “What about her?”

  Fallyn waggled her hand. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this. Last year there was a bill. It was approved by the House and sent to the Senate. Big brouhaha.”

  “Which bill?”

  “The one about the military pay scales.”

  Eyes still on the road, Tony pursed his lips. “Yeah. Got it. Didn’t pass, right?”

  “Correct. My sister was the swing vote.”

  He glanced at her, his dark eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but his eyebrows had hitched up before he turned back to the road. “No shit?”

  “No, shit, big guy. She voted no and the military families nearly lynched her.”

  “I can see why.”

  “What the media failed to report was why she voted against it. The buried language in that bill allowed for billions to be sent to troops in foreign countries. Oh, Pakistan, you need a tank? We’ll give you five million dollars, compliments of the United States taxpayers. She got slaughtered in the press and time and time again she argued that she wanted that language removed. She wanted the bill to be about supporting our military. Not someone else’s.”

  “Let me guess, nobody heard that part.”

  “Hell no. Not at first. It was a perfect storm. The squeaky clean junior senator from Maryland disses US military families. The pundits chewed the flesh off her bones. I begged her to let me help, but she wouldn’t do it. As she put it, she didn’t want to go negative. Please.”

  Even now, months later, the frustration bubbled up, clawed at Fallyn. That fiasco could have been nipped so easily. One expertly placed sound bite on a radio show where the host owed her a favor and—boom—problem solved. But, no. Heather wanted to let it die down on it’s own. As if.