Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2

by Fiona Archer

  Cleo nodded from her seat on the other couch under the front window. “I’ve been thinking the same.”

  Gran sipped her iced tea as she settled back on the couch, the soles of her shiny red patent leather pumps just reaching the rug-covered floor. “What did you girls have in mind?”

  “Mom,” Joanna cautioned softly.

  “What?” Estelle regarded her daughter-in-law with raised brows. “Are we all supposed to sit back and knit booties while the menfolk take care of things?”

  “Not in the least,” London’s mom shot back, “But we shouldn’t go trampling on anything Heath and the boys have organized either.”

  Fair point. Besides, she wasn’t sure how keen Heath would be of her newly devised plans. She was going to call and check in with him soon. Maybe test the waters then and see what happened?

  “We need to hold a strategy session. Us four, Harper, Jinx and Mercy.” She nodded toward the kitchen. “For the moment, secrecy is paramount. Heath is…protective of women and while I’m not planning to do anything stupid, I don’t want to poke the beast.”

  She imagined him locking her away in a tower if he thought she would get in trouble.

  Cleo reached into her bag and pulled out her phone. “I’ll call the girls. We can meet at the café. I’m thinking tomorrow afternoon since Harper has Zach and Milly staying tonight.” She walked to Heath’s front door and headed outside to make sure she wasn’t overhead by Zach.

  London felt the pull of her mom’s gaze. “Don’t worry, I know sometimes I’m too impulsive. But I promise I’m not planning on being like one of those heroines from a horror movie who walks down to the dark cellar.”

  Her mom gave a relieved chuckle. She rose from the couch to stand in front of London. “I’ll admit I’m glad you’re letting others help you and provide guidance.” Gripping her daughter’s hands, she gave them a squeeze. “But more importantly, I’m thrilled, my darling girl, you asked me to be on your team.”

  London’s gaze blurred. She blinked furiously and pulled her mom into a hug.

  Joanna Shaw, in her mom clothes of cute, feminine tops and comfy jeans, could be easily pigeonholed as a woman who baked, managed her home and loved her family. All good qualities. But there was so much more to the woman who’d raised five headstrong kids, plus dealt with an alpha hero of her own. Years of working as a volunteer with survivors of domestic violence and poverty at a woman’s shelter gave her mom a clear-eyed view of life and strong opinions to go with it.

  As London looked over her mom’s shoulder, her gaze found that of her grandma, who nodded slowly.

  The older woman lifted her glass of iced tea in a salute. “Here’s to teamwork.”

  ****

  Later that Friday night, Heath walked into the living room with a fresh glass of wine for London. Once he sat beside her on the couch, he was rewarded with a kiss on the cheek as she tucked herself against him.

  “This was a great idea, having tonight at home.” She sipped her wine as the music from Ed Sheeran’s latest CD played in the background. “And you grill a great steak.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, loving the way her softness warmed his side. “My dad loved firing up the barbie. Come the summer, if Mum worked an evening shift, Dad always cooked outside.” Give us a hand, son, and I’ll teach you my secrets. “He made each time fun for us kids. My sister would sit at the outdoor table and tell Dad about her day, and I’d be in charge of grilling the meat under his guidance.” Good job, Heath. The way his dad had ruffled his hair had made Heath feel ten feet tall. We’ll make a master griller of you yet.

  “You obviously paid attention.” She placed her glass on the coffee table, then settled back. “But I am holding you to taking me out on that official first date. Otherwise,” she shrugged, “I’ll get a reputation for being easy. You’ve already hit a couple of home runs and I’ve got no fancy meal to prove I was worth the wooing.”

  “I’m not getting out of this bloody date, am I?” Heath chuckled at her narrow-eyed stare.

  She gave up her fit of pique in the face of his continued laughter and laid her head against his chest.

  “I was going to take you out for dinner. Being turned down so a woman can work is almost as bad as being turned down so she can wash her hair.”

  “And I still have that hanging over my head.” She groaned. “Sometimes you just have to sit in front of the laptop and push words out until you get a sentence that flows. Then, hopefully, another follows.”

  “So do that. It’s only,” he glanced at his wristwatch. “Eight. You’ve got a couple of good hours ahead of you to crush that scene.” At her surprised glance, he tapped the end of her nose with his finger. “Red, I understand your work’s important. I can keep busy. Adam and Seth have sent me tapes to view. Plus, there’s other intel to go over.”

  London straightened and shifted on the couch so she sat facing him. “I’m curious. What else are you guys looking into besides the tapes?”

  “Looking into Banks’s background, how he lived his life, who were his friends, his enemies.”

  Her brow creased. “I don’t think Henry had many friends. He was a loner. As for enemies,” she sighed. “Henry wasn’t confrontational. He just preferred his own company.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “You know, I could help. The girls would as well. Cleo especially.” London leaned forward, her voice filled with conviction. “She has connections both in the local writing community as well as publishing circles in general.”

  “No.” Anger at the idea of her getting into harm’s way added a hard edge to his voice. “We don’t know what we’re dealing with yet. Banks’s murder could be a burglary gone wrong or a stalker who’s been obsessed with Henry for years.”

  London slowly eased back and whispered, “I hadn’t thought of a stalker.”

  The idea of some crazed fucker’s attention falling on London sent a chill down Heath’s spine. “If we need Cleo to ask some questions, Adam or I will brief her first. But London…” He grasped the back of her neck in a firm grip. The pupils in her green eyes dilated, and he was once again reminded of how wonderfully responsive his Red could be to his touch. He hoped she’d heed his warning as easily. “Leave this work to me and the guys. I’m not asking you to stay away from our investigation, I’m telling you.”

  The telltale pressing of her lips together didn’t bode well for her obeying him. Foolish girl. He increased the pressure of his grip on her neck—not to hurt, but to remind her of what was at stake. “Promise me.”

  London took her sweet time before, finally, she answered. “I promise I won’t interfere with your investigation.” She kept his gaze, not avoiding his stare. He had to take her answer on face value.

  “Good.” He pulled her closer and claimed her mouth with a hot, searing kiss. Her lips parted, and his tongue darted in with a searching sweep. She tasted of fruity wine and her own special sweetness. When he lifted his head, her gaze had softened. “You want to write here?” he asked.

  She glanced at her laptop and notebooks on the coffee table. “Yes, if that’s okay.”

  “No worries, I’ll be in my home office.” He left her to her words and grabbed a beer from the fridge before heading into the third largest bedroom. The room’s furnishings were sparse. In the far corner was a weight machine. Against the wall to the side was his desk and chair with a filing cabinet.

  He logged into his laptop and clicked on the email from Adam, then downloaded the security tape for the early hours of Thursday morning.

  Seth had spliced together the scenes of interest. First, Henry approached the main entrance to his apartment building. He looked over each shoulder as he keyed in the access code to gain entry at 4:03 a.m. Two minutes later, a man now identified as the doctor who witnessed Henry enter his apartment also gained access.

  The next frame showed a tall man of solid build wearing a dark hoodie and jeans approach the building’s main entrance—all the while keeping his head bent downw
ard. He also keyed in the code. The time stamp on the tape said 4:37 a.m. And Seth could not find any trace of him leaving the building afterward. The next people to gain entry to the building were janitorial staff an hour later. Adam’s notes stated that one of the four fire exits did not have CCTV.

  Heath leaned back in his chair as he read through Adam’s email once more. Seth was tracing Henry Banks’s financials. Adam couldn’t find anything in the man’s history or with any of his associates that would ring alarms bells. On the matter of Fox, Adam was meeting with Tollison tomorrow to discuss the investigation’s progress. The IRS was working with the Agent on another possible pawn in this Ivy League syndicate that had controlled Fox. If they could pressure the man to share his troubles, it may lead to a breakthrough.

  He spent the next hour studying the tape Seth had sent, plus two other tapes of different camera angles. Seth was right; there was no trace of the guy leaving the building. With a sigh, he worked on some notes covering Fox and Banks before calling it quits for the night.

  As he entered the living room, he found London on the couch with her head back and eyes closed. Her even breathing and relaxed features signified she was fast asleep. Her laptop was closed and her notebooks, pens, and sundry other stationery items were scattered over the coffee table. The little writer was leaving her stamp wherever she went.

  Color. Creativity. Happiness.

  Maybe a little mess was a good thing amongst all his order?

  Heath scooped London up in his arms, smiling that she didn’t stir, and walked to his bedroom.

  Once she was on the bed, he gently undressed her, trying not to laugh aloud at her grumbles at her disturbed sleep.

  He stood back and rubbed his chin, wondering if he should keep her naked or get one of his t-shirts. The scratchy sound of his finger brushing his stubble reminded him of London’s pleasured-filled moans as he gently rubbed his jaw over the delicate skin of her inner thigh.

  Hmm, maybe sometime in the night, he’d explore ways of getting Red to make more of those sounds.

  Deciding on the t-shirt, he went to his dresser and opened the drawer.

  He blinked. “What the fuck?”

  Two pairs of unrolled socks sat on top of his AC/DC t-shirt. He lifted up the corner of the garment and saw another pair of socks underneath covering the next t-shirt.

  Slowly, he pushed the drawer closed and opened another. Where there should have been two neat rows of folded pairs of sweatpants was only one row and a messy lump of his briefs.

  Another drawer revealed something looking like flowers from his handkerchiefs. And where was his Manly t-shirt? Not on his chair.

  He glanced over to the bed. A slow smile spread across his face as he studied London, looking so bloody innocent in her sleep.

  Grabbing his AC/DC t-shirt, he dressed her and settled her under the covers, then went about claiming his revenge. All the while, London slept on, unaware of what was in store.

  Five minutes later, Heath climbed into bed and took her in his arms. A few hours later, he woke Red and tore from her those pleasured-filled moans he loved to hear. Once they were both spent and exhausted, he nipped the lobe of her ear. “Love what you did with my ties, Red. I’ll have to think of something worthy in return.”

  And the way her eyes grew round at his words?

  As his brother would say—fucking brilliant.

  CHAPTER TEN

  London clenched her teeth and counted to ten as she sat in the front passenger seat of Heath’s SUV as he drove her to Seven Dishes. Downtown Seattle was bright and sunny this Saturday afternoon. A stark contrast to London’s irked disposition.

  “I don’t know what you’re annoyed about,” Heath reasoned. “We’re talking about a few small items of nonessential clothing.”

  She swung her gaze to Heath. “You stole all my underwear. My very essential Victoria’s Secret sapphire blue lace trim pair, my La Perla apricot high cut, not to mention the cute black ones with the pink ribbon detail, among others.” Her eyes suddenly widened. “I hadn’t even worn them yet.”

  If she was hoping for shame from Heath, his unabashed grin proved a supreme disappointment. “I didn’t steal your underwear, Red. I simply moved them, just as you did mine.”

  “But you won’t tell me where you moved them to.” And she’d asked. As well as pleaded, which an hour later turned to yelling and less than five minutes after that threats of retaliation. At which point Heath reminded her he was bigger, meaner, and an expert at working a set of cuffs. “I only moved your briefs from one drawer to another.”

  “Poor follow-through on your part, Red.” Heath ignored her glare as he pulled in to park in front of House of Jade.

  The moment the car was stationary, London was out and hustling toward the shiny black painted door of Jinx’s salon. She was a few feet short of her destination when a firm hand gripped the back of her jeans. “Ease up there, luv.” Heath’s eyes shined with his amusement. “You didn’t give me a goodbye kiss.”

  “Since you refused to stop at the Nordstrom’s store a street away, I don’t see why I should.”

  “Nevertheless…” Heath leaned in, claiming her mouth.

  And dammit it all to hell, the firm pressure of his lips combined with the way he easily held her in place by her jeans added another layer of pleasure to their kiss.

  When he lifted his head she was too slow to mask her enjoyment. From Heath’s grin, he was satisfied with what he saw.

  “Sometimes a girl just can’t get a break,” she muttered to herself. “Fine, you bested me with your counter prank.” True enough. But she added for fun, “Now you can begin your shift at work knowing I’m wearing no underwear as I walk past various men in public.”

  Heath’s grin disappeared in a flash.

  Ah, sweet revenge.

  With a bright smile, she broke free, walked up the three steps to the black door and pushed the buzzer.

  Jinx’s voice sounded through the intercom’s speaker. “We’re on our way down.”

  We? Maybe Cleo or Harper was with her? London’s team of merry helpers was due to meet at Seven Dishes in a few minutes.

  She glanced over her shoulder, about to tell Heath she’d see him back at his house, when she spotted the way he stared at a man getting out of a black BMW parked in front of Heath’s SUV.

  Tall, with dark hair and a ruggedly handsome face, the man’s clear blue gaze locked on Heath and flashed with something equaling challenge. Dressed all in black, from his tailored pants, shirt and shoes, he looked an inch or so shorter than Heath’s six feet three, but carried more bulk.

  The man moved to stand three feet from them. “Justice.”

  “Bishop.” Heath’s flat tone held no warmth.

  London went still. Bishop. Business mogul. Suspected criminal. Heath wasn’t a fan.

  Neither man extended a hand in greeting.

  The cool blue gaze that had regarded Heath switched to her and she held her breath under his hard, assessing stare. No words were said between them, and London had to admit, she’d likely have no voice.

  With a loud click of lock, the door behind her opened. London moved down the three steps as Jinx and a stunning looking woman dressed in skintight jeans and a figure hugging red top exited the building.

  Jinx smiled at London. “Hi, honey, I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She turned to the tall brunette beside her. “Cashmere La Croix, this is London Shaw.”

  The woman extended her free hand. “Jinx is a big fan of yours. I’m going to have to grab one of your books.” She moved to stand next to Bishop, who took two garment bags from her and held them out to his driver who stood next to the back passenger door of the BMW.

  “I’m going to have to stock her salon with some copies if Jinx’s PR skills are that great,” London joked, and the three women laughed.

  Jinx waved to Heath. “And this is Detective Heath Justice.” Cashmere smiled as Heath nodded. Jinx continued the last of her introductions. “Lon
don Shaw, Heath, meet Declan Bishop.”

  “Hi,” London offered, keeping her smile.

  “London.” Declan’s gaze lingered on her before flicking back to Jinx.

  “Declan and I have met before.” Heath’s polite tone couldn’t mask the fact neither man acknowledged the other with a glance or nod.

  Jinx blinked but her smile remained in place. “Oh, I see.”

  “Jinx, as ever, thank you.” Declan smiled at Jinx, giving London a glimpse of how handsome his face was when looking less stern. He then steered Cashmere to the BMW.

  Cashmere looked over her shoulder to Jinx, “Thanks, girl. I’ll give you a call about that necklace.”

  Jinx nodded. “Do that.”

  Seconds later, after the BMW merged into the traffic, Jinx hugged both London and Heath. “Sorry about that, we were running late. Cashmere has two events she needed help with, and her benefactors are very exacting on how they’d like her to look.”

  London raised a brow. “Her benefactors?” Then the penny dropped. “You mean she’s Bishop’s mistress?”

  “No, not Bishop’s, at least not exclusively. Cashmere’s is a free agent,” Jinx stated. “She provides certain services to wealthy gentlemen when they need an escort or want company when entertaining for parties.”

  “Wow, like an exclusive call girl.”

  “You both know I’m a cop, right?” Heath said in dry voice.

  Ooops.

  “Heath, about Declan.” Jinx winced. “I should have thought first. I guess you’re aware of his father’s past.”

  “Not your problem, babe.” Heath gave Jinx a soft smile. “Part of my job is I’m naturally suspicious.” He tugged a lock of London’s hair. “Gotta go. I’ll see you tonight.” With a quick kiss, he walked to his car, and she and Jinx waved as he drove off.

  “That guy is melt-worthy,” Jinx mused softly.

  “He confiscated my underwear,” London blurted out before she thought.

  Jinx burst out laughing. She swapped her tote to her other hand and hooked her arm with London’s as they crossed the road to Seven Dishes. “Now this story I have to hear.”