Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2

by Fiona Archer

  Unfortunately for Jinx, that would have to wait for another time. For along with everyone who’d been invited to partake in their afternoon planning session, they had two surprise guests. Adam Justice sat at their table, along with an elegant looking older woman with short, swept back blonde hair who wore a crisp yellow linen blouse and matching skirt.

  “That’s Harper’s mom, Elizabeth,” Jinx shared as London shot her a questioning glance.

  Harper met them at the counter and handed London the keys to her car. She’d felt lost without her car, which had stayed parked in the alleyway behind Harper’s building since she’d been escorted from the café by the police on Thursday. “Mom and Adam popped in for a visit on their way to some appointment.” She glanced over her shoulder at the table and then back. “I don’t think they’ll stay long.”

  “No problem, hon.” London waved away Harper’s concerns.

  After she and Jinx joined the table, and London kissed her mom and grandma, Adam introduced her to Mrs. Fox.

  London sat next to Cleo with Jinx beside her and then Mercy. Across the table was her mom, grandma, Adam, and Mrs. Fox.

  Harper came bearing two plates piled with assorted pastries, and one of the waitresses carried a tray with various beverages. London ordered an iced coffee.

  “I’m sorry for your family’s loss, Mrs. Fox,” London said as Harper pulled a chair from another table and sat at the end near her mom.

  “That’s very kind of you, London,” Mrs. Fox said gently. “Harper tells me you’ve just suffered a terrible shock as well, so I appreciate you thinking of my family.”

  Glancing between Harper and her mom, London could see the resemblance, more in a shared mannerism, like the way they each meet everyone’s gaze—direct and interested.

  “Young man,” Grandma said to Adam from her seat beside him, “Cleo tells us you’re starting your own private security and investigations business.” Her eyes sparked with excitement. “That’s got to be fun. Do you have an armory of weapons? What about a big room filled with computers and screens? Are you planning on having a team of guys dressed in all black like you?”

  Adam’s mouth twitched. “While I can’t reveal my secrets,”—he lowered his head a smidge closer to her grandma—“I can say my future plans include some of what you said and more.”

  Grandma leaned back in her chair, looking pretty pleased at hearing the proof of her deductions.

  Just like her mother-in-law, apparently Joanna Shaw was intrigued. “That does sound thrilling.”

  “He’s rather good at his job, Mrs. Shaw.” Elizabeth Fox stirred her coffee. “Especially the way he deals with annoying federal agents and police who speak to me like I’m either a deaf grandmother or public enemy number one.” She flashed her smile to everyone around the table, revealing a face full of beauty that was sometimes hidden under her normally more reserved self. “The time Adam made that arrogant young pup write out an apology for badgering me about the key for the lock to my mother’s old steam trunk is my favorite.”

  Harper asked the question on everyone’s mind as she glanced at Adam. “How did you manage that?”

  He held her gaze, but remained silent as he drank his coffee.

  Elizabeth Fox patted her daughter’s hand. “Like I’ve explained to that Agent Tollison in regard to your father’s business dealings, sometimes I find it best not to ask.”

  London chuckled as Harper rolled her eyes at her mother.

  Adam proved he was more resilient sitting at a table with a group of chatty women than London could have imagined. He lasted a further ten minutes before looking at his watch and reminding Mrs. Fox they were due to meet with an “associate”. No other information was forthcoming, and frankly, London didn’t think even her grandma would dare ask Adam for more details.

  Once the coast was clear, Harper moved into the seat vacated by Adam, and London outlined her basic plan. Or more the rules regarding whatever the women could put in said plan.

  “I already promised mom we wouldn’t do anything to earn ourselves a nomination for the ‘Too Stupid To Live’ Award. So that means no deliberate breaking of laws, no going anywhere by yourself when on a mission—we adhere strictly to the buddy system, and”—she looked pointedly at her grandma—“no weapons.”

  Estelle Shaw’s mouth dropped in appalled shock. “Why look at me when you say that?”

  “You did just ask Adam if he had an armory,” Mercy gently reminded her.

  The older woman sat straighter in her chair. “I was only thinking of what worked for him, not us.”

  “My apologies, Gran.” London wasn’t completely convinced the older woman wouldn’t love the idea of a Taser in her purse, but she’d leave well enough alone.

  Cleo pushed away her used plate and rested her clasped hands in front of her on the table. “Do you have anything to get us started on a list of actions?”

  London shared Heath’s news of a suspicious acting male who was caught on CCTV gaining entry to Henry’s building around the time of his death and that one of the fire exists was not monitored, meaning the guy could have left the building undetected. She also shared the possible theory that the killer could have been someone stalking Henry. “That’s one of the main reasons Heath doesn’t want me to get involved with helping the guys in their investigation. I did offer, but to say he was firm in turning me down was an understatement.”

  “I’m not asking you to stay away from our investigation, I’m telling you.”

  No ambiguity there.

  “So we tread with care.” Jinx glanced around the table. “Henry’s apartment building is a big tower downtown. I checked; there are listings for rent. One of us could be a prospective tenant checking the place out and their friend goes with them. Can’t hurt to ask some general questions and see what comes up.”

  “I like that idea,” London’s mom stated.

  So did London.

  Mercy volunteered to go with Jinx on the apartment mission. Cleo volunteered to go soft, really soft, and ask a couple of questions of a trusted friend at Henry’s publishers, see how things had been professionally for the thriller author.

  Harper, Mom and Grandma would be assigned tasks as developments happened.

  Any information gathered would be sent to London who’d update the team.

  All the women agreed with Cleo that London needed to stay clear of asking anyone questions regarding Henry. Others could get away with the excuse of curiosity. London had already been tied to the event because of her pen being the murder weapon and drawing further attention would be disastrous.

  “What about that bitch, Angelique Dupree?” Harper’s tone bordered on sneering. “Has your agent kicked her ass for you?”

  A horrible metallic taste filled London’s mouth. The same taste she’d had when as a twelve-year-old she’d stood in line with Aidan for her first ride on a rollercoaster. “My agent hasn’t returned any of my calls since Thursday.”

  Silence greeted her statement until Mercy spoke. “And your readers?”

  On that point, she felt a trickle of relief. “Apart from a few comments, the vast majority have been great. They agree right now is about Henry, and not another person using the situation for their own publicity.”

  “I can ask around about Angelique, too,” Cleo suggested. “I know she was pitching a new series to her publisher.”

  “Good idea.” London “She told me at my signing she was in negotiations with the same TV producer to feature in an in-depth story of a successful author.”

  “So we have a plan to start with.” Her mom looked around the table before she gathered up her bag. “London, you sure you don’t want to come over for dinner?”

  “Thanks, Mom, but no. I’m way behind on my book and need to catch up. Heath’s working most days with his case, so I may come around tomorrow night instead?”

  “Sounds good,” her mom agreed before she and Estelle left, soon followed by Mercy who had a movie date with Aidan. Jinx hea
ded off to get ready for a friend’s dinner party and Cleo was having early drinks and possibly dinner with a guy she’d met at a local art gallery.

  Harper walked out to the alley with London. The bubbly café owner wrapped her in a hug as they stood beside London’s car. “It’s all going to be okay, babe. My advice? Take this one day at a time.”

  “I could say the same to you.” London unlocked her car and put her tote inside. “Heath told me your mom’s organized a private memorial service for Tuesday.”

  “Yeah,” Harper looked off to the side, her voice soft, almost distant as she spoke. “Mom wants to keep things as dignified as possible since we don’t know what’s still to come to light with the investigation.”

  Harper’s words played over in London’s mind as she drove to Heath’s house. Most people say they would prefer to know the truth about something, regardless of how ugly it may prove. However, when confronted with the facts, some wish they could reverse time and go back to their state of blissful ignorance.

  London only hoped the answers she sought wouldn’t lead to her being haunted with the same regret.

  ****

  Heath hit enter on his keyboard and locked in tomorrow’s meeting with the District Attorney for an update on one of Heath’s earlier cases. The husband of a murdered fifty-one-year-old woman was soon up for trial, and he and the DA needed to make sure they had everything squared away. He’d have to devote some time this morning to making sure he had all his notes on hand.

  He glanced at the dates on the top of his calendar. Today was Thursday. Two weeks since he’d met London. And a week now since he’d ‘evacuated’ her from the new crews siege of her grandma’s house.

  His home—and life—had never been the same since. The whirlwind of disorder that was London ensured his well-planned existence had become a thing of the past. Neither questioned the fact London was still staying at his place, even though the news crews had moved on that first Friday night. But gradually, more of her stuff seemed to come over, until half his bathroom cabinet was stocked with her toiletries.

  He smiled to himself at the memory of this morning’s adventure. Walking into his kitchen, he found London had risen early to cook him pancakes and bacon whilst he was in the shower. His kitchen was a war zone of dirty dishes and mess covering the counters and sink. For someone who cleaned as they cooked, that would normally have the skin on his neck itching. But one look at the sweet joy on London’s face as she stood before the stove wearing one of his t-shirts, and he was a goner. As she had served him a plate piled with more pancakes than he could eat in a week, Heath was prepared to trade a lifetime of clean counters for London’s brand of mayhem.

  Now, thinking about how much that idea sat easily with him had him wondering: Exactly what were his feelings for Red?

  In the last week, they had deepened more than he’d dreamed possible. And when he’d held her in his arms and joked that he could get used to her crazy messing up of his kitchen, he loved the way she’d stared at him, her gaze full of—Christ, he didn’t know if he was right—hope?

  “Now that’s a complication.”

  Heath looked up at Derek’s words. His partner was at his desk, his brow creased as he looked at his computer screen.

  “What?” Heath asked.

  “Got an email from that buddy of mine in Portland PD. Vargas has come up on their system. The teams down there broke a cartel that ran girls from California up through to Oregon. Vargas’s name was mentioned by a victim in her statement.” Derek sighed. “She made a possible ID, but can’t be sure since she was kept drugged and memories are hazy. Thinks he brought food to the room she was locked in a couple of times.”

  That uneasy feeling Heath had about this case heightened. “If she’s right, our case against Vargas is blown, but it sounds like she’s not sure. And our guy’s not the only Ruiz Vargas on the west coast.”

  “Correct, and she’s pretty traumatized. The kid’s only fourteen.”

  Christ. Heath pushed back from his desk. “Guess we better update Sarge.”

  Derek fell into step beside him. “I got a feeling this case isn’t going to end the way we want it to, Justice.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  ****

  London concentrated on her mascara wand and tried not to look at Heath lounging in the bathroom doorway.

  She’d spent the last twenty minutes rushing around Heath’s bedroom, trying on outfits she had collected earlier in the day from her house. She would have been dressed way earlier, but she’d had to take a call from Gloria, her MIA agent, who summarily fired her as a client. Or was that consciously uncoupled herself from London? Either way, thirty minutes after the call, London was finding it hard to craft a dramatic eye makeup when her hand wouldn’t stop shaking.

  “Do you want me to call the girls and ask them to come over here instead?”

  “No!” She cursed as her rather forceful tone was amplified in the tiled bathroom.

  Heath’s brows rose. “Okay. I was just thinking it might make it easier on you since you’ve had a nasty shock.”

  Except two of her team members were off on a mission checking out listings in Henry’s apartment building, and she needed to get to the restaurant Jinx had booked for their dinner. The plan was they’d meet up and report news over a meal, before visiting a club or two. Or three if her grandmother had the deciding vote.

  “Thanks, honey, but we’re all looking forward to tonight, and honestly, I think a girls’ night out may be the best antidote to Gloria’s bitch maneuver.”

  The stern set of Heath’s jaw didn’t lessen. “I still think you should let me get Braedon to go over your contract. See if this bitch hasn’t screwed you over.”

  “There’s a clause in the contract that says either of us can walk away any time. She keeps earning from the deals she’s already negotiated for me.” London shoved the wand into the tube of mascara, dropped it into her makeup bag and reached for her lipstick. “Besides, I don’t want to fight her.” And London meant every damn word. “Gloria left me hanging for days and has chosen to walk away when I think I’m doing some of my best writing.” Not that the agent’s departure wasn’t a public slap in the face, and might make other agents leery of signing on London.

  She paused, lipstick in hand, and breathed in a couple of calming breaths. With a little less tremor in her hand, she managed to do a passable job applying the shimmery rose color.

  Makeup done, she ran a critical gaze over her appearance. The sapphire blue dress was cut on the bias to flatter her fuller figure. The v-neckline showed a hint of cleavage, but kept the overall look to sultry and not tawdry. The hem stopped a few inches above her knees, and she completed the overall look with a pair of ruby red stilettos and matching purse.

  “I like your hair this way. Out and full.” Heath lifted a big bouncy curl away from her neck and kissed a path from her hairline down to her shoulder.

  London gave a little moan. Oh, yes, Heath knew exactly where she loved him to—

  The ring of her phone shattered the moment.

  “Sorry,” she told Heath and saw her grandma on the caller ID.

  “Hey, Gran, I’m nearly ready.” She grabbed her lipstick and powder compact, walked into the bedroom and slid them in her purse. Next, she folded a few ten dollar bills and a credit card. The trick to taking only a small purse when going out was packing like she was going on a twenty-mile hike.

  “Your mom and I are waiting in the car outside. We went to the hairdresser this morning and got our hair set,” her grandma shared, anticipation ringing in her voice. “And I’m wearing my black patent leather slippers and black pantsuit. Easy to dance in.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And for any covert work.”

  London decided to not specifically address the last comment. “Great, honey. I’ll be there in just a sec.” London shoved her phone in her purse and turned to Heath. “I’ve got to go. Is Seth coming over?”

  “Yeah, Zach, too. He drove
down from Razor’s Mountain this morning with another load of carvings for a gallery. Milly’s on a sleepover at a friend’s house, so he’ll crash at Harper’s.”

  She started walking to the front door. “Maybe you could go out to a local tavern?” After all the long hours he’d been putting in with the three investigations she knew of, along with whatever else he had at work, the man deserved a break.

  “I’m thinking we’ll get some chairs and blankets, make a fort in the living room and eat pizza.” Heath said as he pulled the door open for her.

  She chuckled as she gazed up at him. “You idiot. I’ll give you a call when we’re headed home.” Standing on tiptoe, she gave him a quick peck on the lips, but Heath gently cupped the back of her hand and ensured a follow-up long lingering kiss. One that would require another application of her lipstick.

  Her mom and grandma waved to Heath as she hurried to her mom’s SUV. He stood at the door, not closing it until they’d pulled out into the street.

  “You ladies both look lovely.” London leaned forward in her seat as much as her seatbelt would allow. “Have we heard anything from Jinx or Mercy?”

  “Negative,” Gran replied. “As far as we are aware, the mission is still ‘go’.”

  London flicked her gaze to her mom, who sent her a meaningful look in the review mirror. She sat back in her seat and pressed her lips together to keep from giggling.

  As she had many times before, London sent out a blessing of thanks that she had such a freaking cool family.

  The drive to the restaurant consisted of London updating her relatives on her ex-agent Gloria’s crappy move. This was soon followed by her hopefully dissuading them from hiring Adam and his as yet not employed team of lethal commandos to wreak revenge on the agent.

  “Tonight isn’t about anger, or self-pity or revenge. It’s about us getting out and having some fun. I’ll have plenty of time to obsess over this latest shambles.”