by Fiona Archer
She couldn’t see any staff. They’d been busy serving when she came in so…
Keep looking at Snyder.
“Detective Snyder, hi.” She cringed inwardly at the too bright greeting and forced herself to stand on shaky legs. “Thanks for coming.”
“We know you watched the video.” Snyder’s flat tone chilled her. “We saw you.”
No denying. Okay, so—
“Sorry, I was worried, but all I found was this home movie Henry made for one of his thrillers.”
Snyder’s brow creased, then gradually, his face relaxed, though suspicion lurked in his gaze. “Home movies?”
London nodded. “He did them all the time. Acting out ways he could dispose of characters. Like in here,” She waved to the laptop. “People being chased.”
Snyder stared at her a moment and then looked at the man beside him. “Maybe,” he began, his tone hopeful.
The man reached over, pulled the thumb drive from her laptop and regarded her with a dispassionate gaze. “Don’t lie to me, Ms. Shaw.”
His words were like an icy bath, drenching her and banishing any hope she could bluff her way out.
He didn’t show anger. Just…coldness. And that’s what scared her the most.
Snyder’s Glock was drawn and trained on her.
Caught. Near the back. She stood facing one side wall of the store and them the other. The front was to her right. She stared at the men but concentrated on what was behind them. Rows of shelving six feet high and six feet long. In the middle of the store were various round tables with displays of bestsellers and new releases. Exposed. Nowhere to hide.
The front had a mixture of both, but the shelving wasn’t so tall.
Along the back wall the stockroom door was open, but she’d have to cross the width of the room to get there.
“I-I don’t have the proof now. And I don’t know anyone in the video.”
“Take her laptop,” the still unidentified man ordered Snyder.
He was used to giving orders. She didn’t know how to tell his rank from his uniform. He knew Snyder so it would be likely he’d know Heath, and her brothers?
Snyder looked from London to his superior officer. “You’re letting her go?”
The man gave a short laugh. His smile seemed melancholy. “It’s not that simple.” He reached into his pocket. “I’m afraid—”
“Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re here.” Angelique Dupree sauntered into the middle section of the store. Wearing a skintight black skirt and skivvy, she moved to stand next to a table piled with hardcovers of her last series. “Visiting the scene of the crime.”
London jerked at the horrific choice of words.
“Against good plotting and taste,” she continued, as if that was a part of her little joke and it should have been clear, but Angelique knew the connotation, and reveled in the way it would hurt London.
The irony of her saying such a thing in front of these men was incalculable.
“Get rid of her,” the senior cop ordered Snyder.
Snyder holstered his weapon, careful to keep the action from Angelique who had yet spotted his Glock. He moved forward. London took her cue, moving with him, wanting to get in the public view and less hidden. She got to the end of the shelving, close to the middle of the store, before the other man caught her arm in a bruising grip.
She stopped. “You’ve got what you came for, why—”
His gaze flared and she froze. “Hardly.”
“Don’t you want to make a run for it? I can’t accuse you of anything without proof.”
He glanced down at her. His tone was dismissive. “Today was never about you, Ms. Shaw.”
London didn’t know what to make of that, but she turned to the sound of a furious female voice.
“Get your hands off me.” Angelique slapped at Snyder’s hand on her arm as the man went to pull her forward.
“Jesus, lady,” Snyder snapped.
“Leave her. She wants to stay that badly, she can.”
Snyder turned and frowned at his superior. Whatever was going on, Snyder wasn’t in on his boss’s particular game plan.
Snyder joined them, his weapon no longer holstered.
“Watch her,” boss man said.
Snyder pulled her toward him, moving her forward another three feet so she stood next to one of the tables with a display of hardcovers.
“Ah,” boss man said as he looked toward the front of the store. “Now I have what I came for, Ms. Shaw.” He undid his jacket and pulled out a Glock from his shoulder holster and pointed it toward the front of the store.
She followed his gaze and her heart stuttered in her chest.
Heath, Derek, and Adam walked through the aisles of shelving, looking to London like modern day gunslingers with their guns drawn and trained on boss man who now stood where the back end of the store met the middle. Behind Heath, London could see customers and staff members fleeing out the store’s front entrance.
Angelique, finally realizing the enormity of the situation, stared back at London in horror. She eased her way around the other side of the display table from London.
“Justice, Shaw…” Boss man gave a derisive smile. “and Justice.”
“Let London and the other woman go, Brannigan.” Heath stopped about ten feet from boss man.
Brannigan? Their new Lieutenant?
“Not yet.” Brannigan regarded Heath, and then Derek. “You’re good cops. So I’m not expecting you to understand, but that’s irrelevant. I want you to hear what I have to say.”
“So tell us.” Derek glanced at London, and she gave him a small smile, wanting to reassure him, even as all she could think of was Snyder’s Glock trained on her. She couldn’t feel the pressure of the muzzle against her body, so maybe it wasn’t so close.
“They get you when you’re young. At the golf club,” he added for clarification. “I caddied for now Assistant Chief Croyden, and Snyder caddied for me.”
Heath’s gaze stayed locked on Brannigan. “Got a little fraternity going there?”
“Yes, and that’s how those other bastards lock you in. They find a weak spot in one person, and then they corrupt all around them, following the lines of loyalty.
“Who is ‘they’?” Heath demanded
“The organization your brother and Agent Tollison are trying to bring down.” Brannigan sighed, and tossed the thumb drive on the closest table. “The people who killed Fox.”
“They got a name?” Adam asked.
“No, but you already know that.” Brannigan studied Adam. “You need to be careful, Mr. Justice. You’re beginning to be a thorn in their side. They remove thorns. That’s what they have planned for me.”
“You don’t know that,” Snyder snapped. “For fuck’s sake, what are we still doing here?”
“He’s not involved, Justice,” Brannigan said to Heath, ignoring Snyder’s question. “Loyalty is John’s downfall. That and gambling.” He looked over at his protégé. “Your blooding would have happened soon enough. I couldn’t hold them off much longer.” He turned back to Heath. “That’s how they get you. You think you’re going to a meeting about one thing and then you have to hold the murder weapon afterward, so it’s got your prints. You’re forced to stand beside the body and have your photo taken.”
London’s mouth dropped. How…appalling.
“And they keep them for future insurance,” Heath deduced.
“They own you.” Brannigan’s smile was humorless. “There’s a video. On it you’ll find some answers to questions. But I’ll help. Alyssa Holmes and Danny Jacobsen were in a warehouse, she giving him a blow job when I was forced to witness Fox’s murder.”
Heath’s gaze narrowed, but he gave no other outward reaction. “Go on.”
“They heard the shot. She screamed. We chased them. Caught them. And removed the thorns.”
“What about Henry Banks?” Heath asked, as he and Derek moved slightly, one stepping to the left, the other t
o the right.
Brannigan must have seen their moves, but he didn’t tense, not like Snyder next to her. If anything, Brannigan’s expression seemed almost resigned. “Again, watch the video. But suffice to say Mr. Banks was a targeted man because of what he saw. As for the Ms. Shaw’s pen, my guess is he picked it up from the table at the signing. It was on him at the time of the attack.”
There was a scuffling noise and from somewhere behind Brannigan, a book came flying through the air.
Everything happened at once.
Snyder looked left, away from her, toward the sound.
London seized her moment. She grabbed one of the hardbacks from on top the table next to her and smashed it into the back of Snyder’s head with every ounce of strength she possessed.
He fell forward, the gun dropping from his hand.
When she looked up, she could see Brannigan, lying on his back on the ground, eyes open, lifeless. A bullet hole in his temple and a red stain on his white shirt where his jacket had fallen open.
She was aware of Adam rushing over to Snyder and cuffing the man’s hands behind his back. Of EMTs and other people running to and fro. And Derek, his gun pointed down by his side, staring at Brannigan.
And Angelique being escorted from the shop by a female police officer, who after having the woman argue with her and demand to be allowed to speak to whomever she liked, was summarily handcuffed and then escorted out by two female officers. With Adam using his phone to take a series of pictures of her as this happened.
And…a three foot tall robot travelling on four wheels with its arm and pincer hand above its head moving in a throwing type motion.
The flying book.
Nitro. She couldn’t see him, but he’d be here somewhere and she’d have to thank him.
So, so many people.
And then there was Heath. He holstered his weapon and moved to stand a couple of feet from her.
“Red, can I have the book?”
When she stared back, he nodded toward her hand.
She looked down and saw a hardback copy of one of Angelique Dupree’s books in her hand. Of all the freaking—
London, swaying a little on her feet, tossed the book to the ground. “I always knew that bitch’s writing could put someone to sleep.”
Heath gathered her close, and kissed her before running his hands over her, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt?” Gently, he felt her side, but Snyder had never hurt her. “I’m okay.” When he kept checking her, she caught his hands and held them with hers, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Honey, I’m okay.”
He swallowed, and moved his hands to cup her face. “I was scared as shit you’d get hurt, but I couldn’t look at you, Red. I had to concentrate on Brannigan. Adam was covering you. Derek and me on Brannigan. That was our plan.”
And she understood. Way more than Heath thought. “You showed your dad how it’s done, Heath. You kept your eyes on the road.”
Something raw, full of pain…and…and heart rending flashed in Heath’s eyes. He blinked quickly, turned his head to the side. When he turned back, his face had the same handsome ruggedness that always sent her heart fluttering. But there was a determined gleam in his gaze that, for a man who already epitomized confidence, took her breath away now.
“Red, today and tonight are going to be a write-off, likely tomorrow as well with all the paperwork, investigations and whatever shit they want to throw and Derek and me.”
“Okay.” Of course, there’d be lots of different investigations on today’s events.
“But the very first day we have free, we are going on that first date. There’s a place my brothers and I love, called Theo’s. The old bloke who owns the joint will adore you.”
She smiled at the idea of going to a place that had significance for him. “I think that’s fabulous.”
“Good.” He swept his thumbs over her cheeks as his gaze locked with hers. “Because I want the chance to tell you that you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. And that I love you.”
Somehow, the floor dropped a foot.
Heath kissed her forehead. “And that as long as I have breath in my body, I’m determined to make everything okay for you.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “I love you, too.” More tears followed. “But I swear, if you make me ugly cry in front of everyone, I’m going to commence twelve months of Operation Chaos Kicks Order’s Ass.” She wiped at her face. “And that, buddy, is a promise.”
Somehow, she didn’t think he was too worried.
EPILOGUE
London sat on the couch, sipped from her glass of wine, and looked around her. Heath’s living room and kitchen were crowded with family and friends. In the week after the shooting at A New Chapter, life had indeed been hectic filled with police interviews and visits from family, but if all went to plan, tomorrow she and Heath would have their first date.
A Sunday night date. Heath had the following Monday off work. And Tuesday. In fact, the whole month, courtesy of a suspension for engaging with Brannigan without clearance from his sergeant.
“Of all the Saturday mornings for me to have off work, and I miss the shootout at the OK freaking corral.” Cleo plunked down beside her on the couch, her eyes twinkling. “How am I ever going to get a date with a sexy first responder when I’m not there during all those emergencies to faint in his arms?”
London scoffed. “Firstly, you can have your pick of first responders any time you like with Heath and my family’s connections, and secondly, you usually like the intellectual, suave types, not blue jeans and Henleys.”
“Well, I’m still miffed. I would have thrown Angelique into the firing line and saved us both.” Cleo’s brilliant smile was shameless.
London burst out laughing, earning her smiles from her mom, dad and Mrs. Fox, who were gathered in front of Heath’s gorgeous green tiled fireplace. Her dad sent her a wink before turning back to his wife.
“She was something, but I got my revenge in the end.” Pictures of Angelique being led away in cuffs had somehow, though not by London’s hand, made it to social media, and her actions of not cooperating with the authorities during a siege had earned her wide condemnation.
“How’s Heath taking his suspension?” Cleo glanced toward Heath, who stood with Seth, Harper, and Aidan. “Mercy said Derek’s been in a bad mood since the incident.
Derek was a puzzle. She wasn’t sure what was up. He’d come around to Heath’s home a couple of times, had hugged her and was happy she was okay, but he’d withdrawn, keeping his own counsel. Even Heath had said the guy wouldn’t say what was wrong.
“Heath’s okay. He says he wouldn’t do anything differently and won’t be put in a corner. Really, when you consider Henry’s video shows a deputy chief as well as a lieutenant running to get into a car to chase people, I can’t blame him.” She’d wondered if he’d be tempted to resign and work with Adam.
Brannigan had left a detailed statement on his desk, outlining the few but key personnel who were a dishonor to the force and some of their actions. He stated he’d planned to commit his own “death by cop” scenario at A New Chapter. He knew his days were numbered after the problems with getting Heath and Derek to accept Vargas was the killer in the double homicide when the evidence didn’t materialize.
The organization that held such power over the lieutenant was getting restless. Three murder cases all tied together and he was supposed to make them all go smoothly. But the opposite was the reality.
“I can’t believe the answer to Henry having your pen was so simple.” Cleo shook her head. “He simply picked it up and shoved it in his pocket.”
London sighed. “That’s the best guess. Brannigan left a note on his desk stating the killer had knocked Henry out and was searching through Henry’s pockets, looking for his phone that would have the video and came across the pen. For whatever reason, the bastard used that to kill Henry.” She gripped her glass of wine a little tighter, refusing to picture the atrocity.
“Jesus.” Cleo shook herself and squeezed London’s knee. “Enough of this malarkey. Let’s go celebrate that you and Heath are happy, and I get to come over and check out all the gorgeous macho men on parade.”
“Hey, I do what I can for a friend.”
“Appreciated.”
Cleo drifted off toward Jinx and Mercy, and London moved up to Heath, who tucked her against his side.
“Everything okay, Red?”
“Perfect.”
He made a slow study of her face and smiled. “Indeed it is.”
****
He sat at the table, the elegant breakfast served on the finest silverware and bone china left untouched. His hand clenched the fork until his knuckles turned white.
The news report on his laptop gave only the bare facts, but the long lens photo taken by some paparazzi filled in the blanks.
The photograph revealed a partially covered woman’s body, apparently recovered from Lake Washington. A naked leg and the back of her head were visible, and debris—leaves and such—was caught up in the long brown hair.
Police were running ID checks, since she was found naked and no clothing or purse had yet been recovered.
But she wasn’t anonymous. She was his. His. And the people who had in any way contributed to her demise would pay.
After all, he’d made that promise to her as he’d thrown her body in the lake.
He was a man who always kept his promises.
THE END
The Sons of Sydney series continues
with Riding Justice
Zach and Jinx’s story.
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