“I’m long gone.”
He poked his finger at her. “Bingo.” He turned to Syd. “Don’t go straight to the shelter. Grey wants to make sure no one follows you. Loop around the city, then meet him at the bakery he said you guys get cupcakes from. Once he’s sure no one followed you, he’ll grab Fallyn and transport her to the shelter.”
Fallyn faced Syd. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this? Whatever is going on, I don’t want you or any of your residents to get hurt.”
“As long as you’re not coming in or out the front door, I’m okay with it.” She glanced up at Tony, her lips spreading into a sultry smile and he suddenly understood Sydney’s power. “And if the big man here is adding some free muscle, we’re probably safer with you around.”
“Working on it.” Tony tapped his finger against his wrist. “Fallyn, tick-tock. We got shit to do. Grey is going to meet you and Syd at the cupcake place.”
She let out a huff, added an eye roll to fully cement her frustration. “Oh, my God, you are so pushy.”
But she dropped to the floor. Damn, he liked her. She might bitch a lot, but she knew when to give up the fight.
Stretched out on the rug, she folded her hands over her belly and Tony squatted next to her. “You good?”
“Yepper.”
“You don’t get claustrophobic do you?”
“Only around slimy politicians. Vocational hazard.”
Syd snorted and Tony grinned down at Fallyn, took in her goofy smile and his chest seized. He leaned in, popped a quick kiss on her lips. Couldn’t help it. The woman was fearless and it flipped every one of his buttons.
In one way or another.
He pulled back from the kiss and their eyes locked. “Thank you,” Fallyn said. “We’ll do more of that later.”
“So,” Syd clapped her hands together. “I’ll just wait outside.”
Tony pecked her lips again. “Honey, fair warning, when I get you into a bed, I’m gonna rock your world.”
“Promises, promises.”
She reached up, smacked her hand over the back of his neck and dragged him in for another soul-frying kiss that made his little brain salute.
Somehow, this thing just got a whole lot more complicated.
* * *
After loading Fallyn into Syd’s Fresh Start van, an apparent donation from one of the local car dealers, Tony marched back into Heather’s house, checked all the windows and doors, flipped on some lights and the television—CNN—and sat at the kitchen island to give Syd lead time.
He set his phone down on the cold granite and propped his chin in his hand. How much sleep had he’d gotten these last few days? Normally, he didn’t require a lot. Five hours a night usually got him through. He might be averaging five over two days and now that he’d sat down, the lack of movement in the house, the lack of chaos lulled his body into thinking a nap might be imminent.
Not today. At least not now. Once he got Fallyn settled with his buddy Matt on lookout, he’d grab a combat nap.
And maybe, circumstances permitting, give Fallyn an orgasm or ten.
His tired and filthy mind drifted, formed a picture of Fallyn, stretched across a bed—a big bed—waiting for him. Bare-assed naked except for her shoes. What his obsession was with the shoes, he didn’t know, but she had wicked sexy shoes and they would go nicely with her birthday suit.
The icemaker in the fridge flipped a fresh batch of cubes and the thunk brought him out of his mind travel.
He checked his phone again. Nothing from Grey yet. It had only been thirty minutes and with traffic, Syd could be stuck in a snarl while looping the city.
Sitting idle wasn’t helping. Another walk-thru of the house wouldn’t hurt. Just to be sure. He stood, shook out his legs, scooped up his phone and headed upstairs where the safe—that goddamned safe—in Heather’s bedroom had been left ajar by the intruder. Another failed attempt to obtain the one thing he wanted.
Heather’s tablet was proving mighty popular. Now all they had to do was figure out why.
Halfway up the stairs his phone rang. Grey. Finally.
He punched up the call. “What’s up?”
“We got a tail. And I can’t shake him.”
Chapter Twelve
One of Fallyn’s clients, Gail Hanson, always said bad things happened in threes. Fallyn decided if that was true, she could relax. She’d met her day’s quota. First the president, then Special Agent Bronco, then the intruder. In fact, after the past week, she was pretty sure she’d met the entire year’s quota.
Justice Greystone’s Dodge charger wound its way around a section of the city Fallyn had never seen before. She took another bite of cupcake and leaned her head against the headrest. “Syd was right. These are excellent peanut butter-chocolate cupcakes.”
Grey glanced in his rearview. “They’re her favorites.”
Syd had driven around the city enough to make Fallyn’s head spin; Grey was doing the same. It had taken Fallyn at least ten minutes to unroll herself from the rug in the back of Syd’s van, Tony had wrapped her up so tight. She’d never been claustrophobic, but being wrapped up in that rug and not knowing where she was going made her a touch carsick. Once she was able to exit the rug and climb up to the seat to talk to Syd, her stomach settled. A few minutes later, and in a different vehicle driving through the DC twilight, she was ravenous.
Stress did that to her. The adrenaline and uncertainty of what came next. Not all stress was bad, but either way, it made her hungry. Her dad had never been big on doling out hugs, but he’d shoved more than a few plates of spaghetti in front of her during her teen years.
As she polished off another bite of cupcake, she wondered where Tony was and if he was okay.
Of course, he is. He’s Tony Gerard, one-man army. He would have laughed at her for worrying about him.
Syd and Fallyn had met Grey at the cupcake shop, where the leader of the Justice Team had handed his fiancée a box of goodness. Syd had smiled, pecked him on the cheek, and dug out a cupcake for Fallyn. “You look like you could use this,” she said. “Guaranteed to make you feel better.”
“I like your girlfriend.” Fallyn licked frosting from the top of the cupcake. The rich chocolate flavor mixed with the creamy peanut butter really was doing a world of good for her attitude. She no longer wanted to kill someone. “She’s no nonsense like me.”
“That she is.” He checked his side view. “So who do you think is trailing us?”
Right. Back to reality. It sort of pissed her off that some freak behind them was ruining her moment. Sometimes a girl needed to enjoy her freaking cupcake without worrying about who might be after her. “Most likely, someone the president sent to make me nervous. Second guess? Special Agent Bronco.”
She felt like adding that they both could go screw themselves, but that was unprofessional, and while Tony might appreciate her bluntness, she had the feeling Grey wouldn’t. She wasn’t worried about the person trailing them. If anything, this was a show of power from Nicols, following up on his earlier threats.
“Tony brought me up to speed on everything.” Grey took a sharp right, running a red light without hesitation. They were on the outskirts of the city, passing endless row houses, interrupted here and there by a gas station or pizza place. “Do you think our tail is the same person who was in the townhouse earlier?”
“Could be, but I swear, Syd lost anybody who followed her. She was all over the city. And why would anyone follow her, anyway? Tony made it look like I was still at the townhouse with him, right? That was the plan.”
Grey didn’t verbally confirm, but he didn’t need to. They both knew Tony was an expert at his job. “I didn’t see this tail when I snagged you from Syd. We picked them up a mile after we left the cupcake shop. Who besides Tony would have a GPS tracker on you? Did the president or any of his men touch your clothing or handle your purse?”
Fallyn lifted an eyebrow at Grey. “Tony has a GPS tracker on me?”
&nb
sp; “Three to be exact. Security precaution.”
Security. Right. She still felt violated a teeny, tiny bit. Should probably insist Tony make it up to her later. “I understand the reason. I just don’t understand why he didn’t tell me.”
Grey shrugged. “Did anyone handle your purse or coat besides Tony today?”
Fallyn thought it over. “No. I sat across from the president in his limo. He never touched me or my clothing, thank God. Neither did any of his Secret Service agents.”
“I doubt Bronco would tag you either. Still might be a good idea to ditch the purse and coat.”
Fallyn finished off the cupcake, brushed crumbs off her hands and shrugged out of her coat. “I left my purse back at the townhouse, so Tony has that. Where do you suggest I ditch the coat?”
Grey punched a button on his door. An electronic whirring noise came from her window as it slowly slid down and disappeared.
“You can’t be serious,” she said, hugging the coat to her. “This is a Burberry. It’s my favorite.”
Her exasperation didn’t phase him. “Toss it,” he said without so much as a glance her way.
Sighing heavily, she shoved it out the window as they drove over a tiny bridge. Cool air rushed in at her and she fought off a chill as the sun sank lower on the horizon.
All she wanted was a glass of wine, another one of those cupcakes and a hot soak in a big tub.
And maybe a little hot, bodyguard sex.
Yep, that would definitely be a bonus.
The window made its whirring noise as it closed. Grey took a left, cutting across a couple of lanes to drive by some large abandoned warehouses. “Let’s talk about who had motive to kill your sister. I looked into the whackos who threatened her after the vote on the military pay raises and none seemed legit or capable of this type of thing. I agree with the FBI findings; there were no credible threats.”
Mr. All Business. She tried not to grieve over her lost coat. “If the theory Tony and I are working on is correct, the president. If his son shot down that plane, he wouldn’t want anyone to know about it. Plus, he has vast resources. Offing my sister would have been a piece of cake. He easily could have found out about her heart condition and had someone give her that dose of Perisoladol.”
“True.” Grey took another left. “But it’s too sloppy to be the president. If he hired someone to kill your sister, the assassin would be a professional, someone who would know that a twenty-eight-year-old senator dropping dead out of nowhere would have an autopsy performed. They would also know that Perisoladol would still be in Heather’s system and call attention to the fact she wasn’t prescribed that drug. A professional assassin would either make sure there was no trace of foul play or they would make sure it looked like a suicide.”
She hadn’t really thought about that. “So you don’t think it’s the president? It had to be someone who knew about her heart condition or found out about it and knew that she was looking into the CanAir fiasco. No one fits that profile besides him. Who else would care if she was looking into the plane’s disappearance?”
“Maybe the sloppy murder setup was intentional. Anyone with a computer could figure out a drug that would negatively interact with Heather’s heart condition. Someone had to know about it besides her doctors.”
Headlights appeared in her side mirror. Whoever was following them wasn’t even pretending to stay back anymore. “My sister didn’t want to be seen as imperfect. She didn’t tell anyone. Not me, my dad, or even Jordan, her assistant who was like her best friend, or Jordan’s dad, Carl, who was like a second father to her. None of us knew.”
“Or so everyone claims. Bronco is looking at you now. Is it possible someone is setting you up for this? That someone wants you out of the way so they’re framing you for Heather’s murder?”
She needed another cupcake. “You’re saying the perpetrator made Heather’s murder look like something that someone with more than average IQ would pull off, but not like a professional hit; in order to frame me?”
“Next of kin are always the top suspects in this type of investigation.”
“And I’m her twin sister. Why wouldn’t she tell me about the heart problem, right?”
“Exactly. Bronco thinks you’re lying about not knowing about Heather’s condition, and since he has no idea about the investigation she was looking into, he has no other solid lead.”
“Even if he did, he’s not going after the president.”
“Probably not a good career move.” Grey’s jaw was jumping. He glanced in his rearview. “Your seatbelt’s secure, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Hang on,” he said and cranked the wheel.
Tires squealed, the car did a U-ey in the road. Before Fallyn could gulp a breath, Grey slammed his foot down on the accelerator and they shot off down another half-deserted street, street lamps here and there flickering to life.
The inertia flattened her back into the seat. She grabbed hold of the door and gritted her teeth. Buildings flew by on her right, the solarized street lights—at least the ones not broken in this part of town—zipped across the Charger’s hood. The in-dash navigation system lit up with an incoming call. Caller ID read Tony’s name.
Grey flew around a curve and used voice activation to answer. “Where the hell are you, Gerard?”
“A mile or so behind you.” Fallyn’s heart fluttered at the sound of his voice. “Closing in fast.”
The car tailing them was gaining on them, the headlights shining high up and into their vehicle. It had to be a truck or SUV.
“What should I do?” she asked Grey.
Grey shook his head at her, spoke to Tony. “SOB’s not hiding anymore. He wants us to know he’s there.”
“Whoever it is, he means business, then,” Tony said. “We need to get you back into a safer part of town and take this guy out. I’ll run interference as soon as I catch up to you.”
The lights that had been in her side mirror disappeared, and the truck slid up Grey’s side as it continued to gain on them. It was running on oversized tires and sporting a roll bar. Grey’s speedometer was almost pegged.
“Shit’s about to get serious, Fallyn.” Grey shot her a quick glance. “Follow my instructions and don’t ask questions, got it?”
He sounded just like Tony. She forced a smile to let him know she had complete confidence in him. Which she did.
But a small part of her wished it was Tony at the wheel. “Got it.”
“Fallyn?” Tony’s voice came from the speaker.
“Yes, Tony.”
“Grey and I’ve got this. You just hold on, babe.”
For the first time since she’d attacked the intruder, Fallyn felt a tickle of fear dancing in her veins. The cupcake made her stomach cramp. Bracing her feet, she wrapped her fingers around the door handle and slouched down into the seat. She didn’t want Tony worried about her. Grey either. “I’m good. Holding on as instructed!”
The next few seconds were straight out of a Fast and Furious movie. She and Grey blew through stoplights, Grey weaving around cars like they were sitting still. There weren’t many this time of evening in this part of town. At one point, he took a turn so fast, Fallyn was sure the Charger was up on two wheels.
Where was Tony? He’d disconnected the phone and she couldn’t see him in her side mirror, blinded as she was by the truck’s lights.
Grey kept cutting off the other guy, only to have him dodge and find a new hole to sneak up to them. Pretty soon, they were on a backstreet filled with garbage and debris. One side was all woods, the other a construction site. The two-lane road was under construction, orange cones dotting the shoulder.
An onramp to the highway was a quarter mile ahead. Grey gunned the motor and swerved around a barricade. The truck, right on their tail, tapped the edge of their bumper.
The Charger fishtailed, Fallyn banging the side of her head against the passenger window. Grey clutched the wheel tighter, righting the car. He drov
e around another barricade, then a large dump truck parked on the edge of the road. The Charger kicked up gravel.
The truck loomed behind them again, the lights flooding the interior of the Charger. “Son of a bitch,” Grey ground out.
Fallyn could see now that Tony had caught up to them. There was another vehicle trailing behind the truck, trying to get around it. With the road down to one lane due to the construction, the only way he was going around the truck was to bust through the barricades.
“Hit the nitrous oxide,” Fallyn yelled, half-laughing. She couldn’t help it. The adrenaline was too much. She was on a roller coaster ride, flying through the twilight with a man she barely knew while some asshole played bumper cars with them.
Her joke didn’t garner so much as a change in breathing from Grey. They hit a pothole left by the construction workers and nearly went airborne.
Fallyn’s heart was in her throat and another nervous laugh broke free. Completely inappropriate, some part of her brain still in logic-mode admonished.
But she realized, she really wasn’t scared. With Grey and Tony handling the situation, she was just along for the ride. A hell of a ride, but everything would be okay.
And then, just as she was about to turn around and flip off the driver behind them, a deer came out of nowhere, flying up from the embankment. Grey cursed and jammed the wheel to the right.
At the same time, the truck bashed them in the rear.
The Charger went airborne. Just boom, and they left the road, Fallyn’s stomach jumping up into her throat. One of Grey’s arms flew out to stop her forward projection. Her breath caught as they went up, up, up and then the car realized it couldn’t fly.
The front of the Charger fell forward and a scream tore from her throat as the ground rushed up to meet them.
The Charger hit hard, bouncing, once, twice, three times down the embankment. Airbags deployed. They were sliding sideways, Fallyn’s head smacking back from the airbag hitting her in the face.
The car wasn’t done dancing down the embankment, though. As she fought to catch a breath around the airbag, she saw mud and grass flying in all directions as the car continued to slide and spin. The sun was all but gone now, darkness closing in around them, their headlights skimming through the air as they spun around and around, sliding backward down the steep hill.
Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) Page 15
