by Fiona Archer
Tempting Justice
Sons of Sydney, Book 2
Fiona Archer
Tempting Justice
Sons of Sydney, Book 2
Fiona Archer
Published by Fiona Archer
Copyright 2017 Fiona Archer
Edited by Red Quill Editing LLC
eBook ISBN: 978-0-9945764-2-2
Book cover design by Hang Le
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As ever I owe a debt of gratitude to the amazing people who help polish and sharpen my stories into novels.
To Scott Silveri for his awesome tips on writing police action scenes and all that’s involved in getting the small details right.
To Jonah Spangenthal-Lee who provided invaluable information regarding the Seattle Police Department and their protocols.
To Debbie Watson for coming up with the name “A New Chapter” for the bookstore Cleo manages. Brilliant!
To Jeannie Kelly who came up with the perfect suggestion of Angelique Dupree as the name of London’s literary nemesis.
To Chloe Vale, Saya from Red Quill Editing, and Hang Le, who all left their mark on this book and helped me so much along the way. I’m eternally grateful for your continued advice and your ability to put up with my manic process of getting the book “done”.
To the most amazing beta readers: Cherise Sinclair and Sali (with one L) Powers. Task masters and legends. I am forever in your debt.
This book is dedicated to all the families out there who adopt and foster, who take in the strays of life and give them hope, and sometimes love for the first time ever.
In particular, I honor a wonderful reader of mine, Kristin H, her hubby Brandon and their family. A more generous couple you could not find. I remember when they started out on their journey of fostering and adoption. Kristen shared her hopes and fears with us, and I was so excited for them. Now, years later, I am blessed to know of the many people she and Brandon have touched with their love and guidance.
Kristin, never doubt the impact you have on the lives of these kids. Your love and guidance not only has the power to change their lives, but in helping them grow into the adults of tomorrow, you strengthen the basis for the families they will raise. Think about that for a minute. Pretty amazing, huh? I am in awe of you, my friends.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Epilogue
About Fiona Archer
Other Books by Fiona Archer
CHAPTER ONE
Jesus, the view was like a snapshot of the American Dream.
In his SUV, Detective Heath Justice ignored the crackle of the police radio and gazed past his partner at the blue and white trimmed Dutch colonial house with its wide front porch and white picket-fenced garden. The sun’s early rays highlighted the colorful flowers and shrubs, which filled the front yard of this picturesque slice of Seattle.
There was even a hoop above the garage door with what looked like an apartment above.
People lived here. Took care of their yard. Shot hoops.
A family.
Something Heath was working toward. No, scratch that. His four-bedroom Craftsman in Green Lake was nearly renovated. As for the family, he was in no rush.
And yet… The sight of this house had him wondering.
He shook his head. Jesus, he was getting sentimental. Must be sleep deprived.
He switched his gaze to his new partner of three weeks. “Are you sure we’re not too early? We can grab something at a drive-thru.” Exhaustion roughened his voice. What he’d give for a hot shower and a good eight hours of sleep.
Detective Derek Shaw scrubbed a hand over his stubble-covered face. “A drive-thru? Bad enough we got stuck on an all-night stakeout—let alone one that gave us bubkis. Now you want inedible food? Inside this house, you’ll find the best pancakes in all of Seattle. Plus, my mom wakes at six every morning without fail.”
Drawing a blank on the stakeout had pissed Heath off. However, their freshly promoted Lieutenant of two weeks wanted to show cooperation with the FDA who had requested the raid, and the intel had looked good.
Still, Heath wasn’t about to miss a chance to give Derek some shit.
He slowly shook his head. “Good thing you left Portland PD and came back home. Talk about going soft. Homicide will make a man of you.” He laughed as Derek gave him the bird.
Far from a lazy bastard, the linebacker-sized detective had so far proven himself intelligent and tough, a cop who never assumed anything. All qualities Heath liked in a partner who could be the difference between life and death.
“If you mean suffering through another night of debating whether your Aussie Rules Football beats NFL, I’m already sufficiently blooded, thanks, mate.” Derek rolled his eyes.
The front door opened, denying Heath his right of reply.
A short woman with the same blonde hair as Derek’s stared out at them. Her neat and tidy hairstyle and outfit of jeans and a pink t-shirt with some flowery design on the front screamed “mum”. Heath would bet a steak dinner there were homemade cookies in a jar somewhere in her kitchen.
No wonder Derek had been crashing with his family since moving back to Seattle.
“Too late to back out now; we’re on radar.” Derek opened his passenger-side door. “Bring your charm, Justice, and come meet the family.”
Heath swung out of his truck, beeped the locks, and joined Derek at the front gate. Their boots sounded heavy in the stillness of the morning as they walked up the flagstone path to the front porch.
“Morning, Mom.” Derek bent down and kissed his mom’s cheek. “Can you spare us each a pancake or five?”
“Honey, what a surprise.” She patted her son’s arm and smiled at Heath, the soft pink in her cheeks complementing her face.
Derek put an arm around his mum’s shoulders. Despite the difference in size between son and mother, Heath caught the resemblance in their matching hair color and blue eyes. “Mom, this is my new partner I’ve told you about. Heath Justice.”
“Heath, so lovely to meet you.” She reached out and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Mrs. Shaw.” Heath returned her smile. “I hope we’re not imposing.”
“Call me Joanna. And oh my, your accent.” Her smile stretched wider. “Derek told me you’re Australian, but you’ve lived here for some years. Is that right?” she asked as she headed into the wide foyer.
“Came over when
I was seventeen.” Heath stood next to a hall table topped with a vase filled with the same kind of orange and yellow flowers in the garden.
“What an adventure for you,” Joanna said as Derek closed the front door.
A good description. Terrifying. Challenging. Those were other words Heath could use. But his tale of four former street kids from Sydney being adopted by a wealthy American wasn’t a topic to be discussed in the hallway of Derek’s mum’s house.
Joanna Shaw glanced at both men’s hands. A slight frown crinkled her forehead. “Didn’t you take your dad’s old thermos when you left?” she asked Derek.
“It’s still in my truck. I’ll run out.” Heath turned and opened the front door.
“Thanks,” Derek said. “I’m gonna wash up. Guest bath is over there.” He indicated a door on his right. “Kitchen’s straight down the hallway. We’ll be back there.”
Heath had grabbed the flask from the SUV’s back seat when he glimpsed a figure through the rear window. A woman, wearing a blue hoodie and black sweatpants walked to the edge of Derek’s driveway and gazed at the house’s front door. A few seconds later, she began walking swiftly down the driveway, constantly checking the front door.
Was she worried about being seen? A possible intruder?
Since he’d parked closer to the house further on from Derek’s parents’ property, the woman hadn’t spotted him. Heath replaced the flask on the backseat and gently pushed the back passenger door nearly closed. He waited until she had disappeared behind the side of the house before following.
Careful not to make noise, he followed the woman down the driveway and watched as she stopped in front of a side door to the garage, which was separate from the house. With her back to Heath, she pulled something from her pocket and tried to jimmy the door’s lock.
The woman glanced toward the back of the house, likely checking to see if she’d been spotted, then continued her efforts with the lock. A soft hiss and a “dammit” indicated her efforts were unsuccessful.
Heath also couldn’t miss the curvy shape of her figure outlined so well by the soft black material hugging her gorgeous arse. One shown off to perfection as she bent to look closer at the lock.
A tiny squeak of joy, followed by her opening the door, signaled the possible intruder had crossed a line. It seemed such a shame to stop his fun. Nevertheless, duty called…
Heath pulled out his 9mm from his shoulder holster and held it out in front of him as he moved forward. “Police! Put your hands on your head and step away from the door.”
The woman let out a high squeak, dropped the lock pick, and spun around, eyes wide. Her mouth formed an “O” at the sight of his weapon. “Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness.” She covered her mouth with both hands before waving them in front of her, palms facing Heath. “It’s not what you think. Honestly.” Her gaze snapped to her left in the direction of the back of the house as if she expected someone to come out any moment.
“I said, hands on your head.” Heath commanded, satisfied when the woman immediately obeyed. “Come forward, turn around, and face the garage door.” He saw her close her eyes in defeat before she obeyed. Heath grabbed his cuffs and shoved his weapon back in the holster. With efficient moves, he had her wrists secured behind her.
“Officer, I can explain.” She sighed. “I mean, I know everyone says that, but really, nothing illegal’s happening here.”
“Good to know.” He pulled her jacket’s hood from her head. Red hair. No, the description didn’t do the color justice, but he only knew guyspeak, which would have to suffice to explain the bursts of deeper red in amongst the lighter strands, all held in a ponytail.
Heath patted down his suspect. No weapons. And he’d have to be dead not to notice the way his hands fit over her hips, the roundness of her arse. He wasn’t a sleaze, not by any means, but he appreciated a woman’s body like any man.
Taking her arm in a firm grip, he turned his suspect around.
Green eyes framed with long, thick lashes blinked up at him. “When I say nothing illegal, I mean it depends on your point of view.”
“My point of view is as a cop, which doesn’t leave a lot of leeway on a range of subjects.”
She frowned at him, as if he was being unreasonable. “That’s a rather rigid stance. Not everything is black and white.”
Heath wasn’t prepared to debate the point. “Your disappointment is noted. Now—”
“Hey, I’m sure you’re a busy guy. And, uh,”—she licked her lips—“you need to go protect the community. That’s an important role. Absolutely. So, you know—” She broke off. “Shoo. Anyway, we can put a line under this and start the day over.”
Despite her opinion of his so-called inflexible outlook on life, he couldn’t help answering. “We can, huh?”
“Totally.” She nodded, sending her ponytail bobbing.
Keeping hold of her arm, Heath looked down at her black canvas tennis shoes to hide his mouth twitching.
It was a safe bet the young woman wasn’t a hardened criminal. But whatever the hell she was up to, he aimed to find out. First he needed to phone Derek.
“Do you know the owners of this house?”
Her mouth dropped open, and her eyes grew huge in her face. “You don’t have to get them,” she rushed out.
“Oh, but I do.” He went to pull out his phone from his back pocket, and the woman jerked against his grip. She would have toppled over if not for him keeping his hold.
Oh, no, sweetheart.
He tightened his grip, reinforcing her captivity and moved closer, towering over her. “Lady, you could have hurt yourself.” The safety of suspects was important, and the thought of the little redhead causing herself harm propelled his alpha instincts center stage. “Resist once more, and I’ll use my belt to hogtie you.”
She drew in a sharp breath. What he didn’t see was fear. Not in her eyes or the way a blush stained the cool-toned white skin of her face. And swear to God, he felt her body soften against him.
An image of her hogtied flashed through his mind. Only she wouldn’t be in this driveway, but in his bed. Lying on his sheets. Her glorious long red hair spread over his pillow.
“What the hell’s going on?”
Heath looked over his shoulder. Derek stood at the side of the house, his hands jammed on his hips.
“Dammit,” came from his suspect.
A look best described as misery—from the closed eyes and turned down mouth—covered her face.
“I caught a suspect attempting to break into your parents’ garage.”
Derek gave a dry laugh. “I’ve no doubt she’s up to something, but that’s no suspect.” He strode up the driveway, his frown reserved for the woman at Heath’s side. “Meet London, my baby sister.”
Heath swung his gaze to…Derek’s sister?
Those eyes, so wide and shocked before, were now narrowed with the promise of rebellion, even as she stood there—in his cuffs.
Ah. So bravado was her chosen defense.
Heath remembered the sweet color of her blush at his earlier threat of hogtying her.
Lightning might strike him down any second, but the woman intrigued him, even knowing she was Derek’s sister. The knowledge he didn’t have to call for a cruiser to take her to booking added a new dimension to the proceedings. Anticipation flowed through Heath. He was going to enjoy this visit, and for way more than pancakes.
Time for his prisoner to confess all.
****
Seconds passed. London Shaw held her breath, refusing to be intimidated by the big cop in front of her. And he was big, around the same height as Derek, maybe six three, but not as bulky. More lean, like a competitive swimmer with all the muscled strength.
The kind of strength shown off to perfection by the way his jeans hugged his long legs, and the navy shirt stretched over his wide shoulders, the open collar revealing the tanned skin of his upper chest and throat. Her gaze traveled up, seeing the masculine line of his jaw, a f
irm mouth and then higher…
She blinked. Blue eyes stared back at her. Shameless in their unhurried study. Assessing. Confident. Like he could read her thoughts.
And wanted to linger, to know more.
A long, delicious shiver fired through her body all the way to her toes.
His hand on her arm flexed, reminding her he was in control. In command. Her release would be when he chose.
His thumb rubbed against the cotton of her hoodie on her arm. The touch felt almost…protective. As if asserting his authority and reassuring her he was…what? One of the good guys?
Not with that stare.
“It’s time to share your secrets, London.”
Her pulse skipped a beat. His accent, kind of rough, raw—Australian—should be registered as a dangerous weapon, especially when combined with his deep voice.
His words were a challenge. No problem. As a kid, her parents had encouraged her to find her voice, a necessity with four brothers, three of them older, and all of whom teased her.
“Secrets are strictly the property of the owner, to be shared at their choosing.” She lifted her chin a notch. Cuffed, not cowed. “I choose not to.”
The stranger threw back his head and laughed, full and deep, giving London a view of the column of his tanned throat.
London risked a glance at her brother, who grinned, enjoying every second of her embarrassing fall from grace.
If she could reach him with a well-placed kick—
“Turn around, Red.”
She complied. Strong fingers slid over her wrists, circled them, sending tingles up her arms. Her breathing hitched. His fingers stopped moving. Heck, had he heard her? She tried for a distraction and flicked her head to rid imaginary hair out of her eyes. A few seconds passed. Nothing. Then she felt a slight tug, heard a series of clicks, and she was free.
