Stealing Justice (The Justice Team)

by Misty Evans

  Ya, think?

  Syd tapped her fingers against her lips. “You want me to be a prostitute?”

  “Absolutely not. There is no sex involved. None. You simply accompany men to functions.”

  To ease the tension, she grinned. “Unless I want to?”

  A flush came over Ian. Lord, she’d embarrassed him. “No sex,” he said almost as if laying down a law.

  Interesting.

  “How much do these women make?”

  Now Ian smiled. “Depends on the level of client and the event. The other night, one of the women accompanied the guest of honor—a senator—to a high-profile fundraiser and she made two grand.”

  All for being eye candy. And later, naked eye candy. Syd whistled. “Two thousand?”

  “Sometimes it’s more. Sometimes less.”

  “And this is legal?”

  “You’re not being paid for sex.”

  The dumbass never answered her question. Grey had better be listening. She puckered her lips, wiggled her head sideways and pretended to contemplate. “How do I know I’ll be safe?”

  “Syd, these are single, high-profile men. They’re trying to avoid scandals, not create them. Plus, I know all of them personally. I’ll guarantee your safety. Trust me on that.”

  That’d be the day.

  “Can I try it and if I don’t like it, not do it again?”

  His features remained neutral, but she imagined an inward happy dance. He leaned forward, looked straight into her eyes, and yes, if he’d have been trying to sell her a Bentley, she would have bought it. That’s how good he was. “You’ll never be forced to do anything. It’s your choice. Always.”

  And we’re off.

  “Okay, then. Let’s try it. Hook me up.”

  Chapter Nine

  Sydney drove onto her street, her clunker of a car chugging along, and spotted Fed Boy’s Challenger in front of her house. He’d called earlier to say he’d be stopping by. Stopping by meant drilling instructions into her head. The man needed to chillax. He’d recruited her to do a job—one she felt quite sure she could do. After all, she had the assets and when it came to women with assets, men tended to think with the wrong body part.

  She parked in the driveway, got out, gave Fed Boy a finger wave and gathered the garment bag and two shopping bags from her backseat. Shopping with the credit card Ian had given her was fun. Even if said shopping meant she’d be attending her first party at the Panthera that evening. Still, she put it out of her mind and tried to focus on the personal shopper who’d helped her pick out a fifteen-hundred dollar dress. Apparently, the big shots liked the women at the parties decked out in designer duds. Really though, what was the point if the dress was supposed to come off at the end of the night?

  Men.

  Syd just didn’t get it.

  Fed Boy stepped up. His tie hung loose around his neck and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone, but, alas, he still wore his suit jacket. Always the G-man.

  “Hello, Sydney.”

  “Hello, handsome.” She gestured to the bright pink bakery box in his hand. “What have you got there?”

  He smiled wide and the sight of it was nothing short of slaying. Well, just hell. Sooner or later, she’d wind up having sex with him—probably disgustingly good sex—and it would be the end of her. Something about him rattled her, and in turn made her want to rattle him. All that energy would need to go somewhere and, without a doubt, it would mean her losing her heart. Or her demolishing his because she wasn’t capable of a trusting relationship. Too much of her life had been torn from her greedy grasp to allow people inside. Particularly men.

  “I brought you cupcakes. Sinful flavors.”

  Cooked.

  “Oh, Fed Boy, you’re learning my weaknesses.”

  “I pay attention.”

  She’d just bet he paid attention. In all the ways necessary. Syd breathed deep. Time to redirect the conversation. “Come inside. I’ll show you what I bought. Then we’ll talk about sinful. You’ll die. Nothing short of cardiac arrest.”

  She led him into the house where she hung the garment bag in the miniscule coat closet by the door.

  “Have a seat. Want something to drink? I need caffeine.”

  “I’m good. I got the info for you about the party tonight.”

  Syd made snoring noises as she made her way to her nook of a kitchen. “Yikes. Can you give me two seconds to get settled?”

  “Party’s legit. There won’t be any back room stuff, just the normal dog and pony show for some dignitaries from Jordan. Front Range isn’t providing security since the president will attend and have Secret Service everywhere. But The Lion will be there, so you’ll be my eyes and ears, and you need to understand how he operates if you want to catch his attention.”

  Catch his attention? Nah, the dress would take care of that. She poured a soda and went back to the living room where he’d made himself comfy on her sofa. She sat across from him in the battered, overstuffed chair she’d picked up at a consignment shop. “He won’t miss me, guaranteed.”

  “Sydney, you can’t throw yourself at him like you do with me. He likes submissive women.”

  “First of all, I don’t throw myself at you. You’d know if I threw myself at you. And, in case you didn’t realize, when it comes to their man parts, men are stupid. Put a confident female in a revealing dress in front of them and they’ll forget all about what they like. They’ll like what I want them to like.”

  Grey’s jaw did that tightening thing. “Have you ever teased a man? Done a shy seduction, rather than an in-your-face one?”

  “No. Haven’t had the need to.” She rose from the chair, went to the closet to retrieve the dress. “Let me put this stuff away. I’ll be right back.”

  Yeah, she’d be back in that dress and prove to Fed Boy just what the hell she’d been talking about. Shy seduction my ass.

  In her bedroom, she slipped on the red gown and adjusted the girls for maximum display in the plunging neckline. The shoes came next. She held one of the red heels in front of her and cursed the person who’d invented these stilettos. She’d have to wear them all night. And God help her if she got herself into a dangerous situation and needed to run. At the very least, she could use that five-inch heel as a weapon.

  She glanced at her reflection in the mirror. There you go. A sexy, elegant woman who was about to become a whore.

  “No pressing any hot buttons,” Grey called. Still lecturing. “Don’t talk about religion or politics. He’s knee-deep in both and no matter what you say, it’ll turn him off.”

  Syd rolled her eyes and headed back to the living room where the lecture was in full swing when she arrived.

  “He’s Muslim and believes women should be seen and not...” His eyes bugged out. “Oh, my God, Sydney...”

  “Somehow, I don’t think we’ll be discussing politics.” She swept one hand down her body. “What do you think?”

  Just to make him a little more miserable, she strutted to the small coffee table and leaned over, giving him a nice view of her cleavage. “Let’s test out these cupcakes shall we?”

  “I, uh...what?”

  The box sat on the table, and Syd reached in and grabbed one. “Well, well, well, are these red velvet? With cream cheese icing?” She held up the cupcake and took a slow lick, her gaze hot and steady on him. “You are too good to me.”

  “I know what you’re doing, Syd. It won’t work.” He cleared his throat, but didn’t take his eyes off her mouth.

  “Sure it will.”

  Another lick.

  “Damn it, Sydney. Okay, I’ll admit you know how to mess with a guy’s mind.”

  His mind and other parts. She sat, cupcake in hand, and crossed one leg over the other, exposing her thigh through the long slit in the dress. “That’s the point. You want me to do it your way. I can’t.” She brushed her hand down her leg. “This is what I know how to do. You need to work with me on it.”

  His gaze
ran down her thigh and he blew out a tight sigh. Adjusted the collar of his shirt. “This is what I know how to do.”

  He withdrew his phone, punched a couple of buttons and held up the display. A picture of Amanda’s face was on the screen. A picture taken after her murder. The sight made Sydney’s stomach cramp.

  “I stop killers. I get into their minds and find their weaknesses. And right now, I’m trying to get you inside The Lion’s mind so you understand how fucking serious this is. I’m throwing you and your gorgeous body in front of a monster. It goes against every cell in my body, every piece of logic I have. You’re right, I need to work with you, but you need—no, have—to work with me too. A red dress and sexy body will definitely attract his attention and the attention of every other male in that room, and that kills me. Kills me. Do you understand? Because that attention could be your death warrant.”

  Syd stared at him a second. Damn him for pulling out the big guns. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn’t know what the hell she was doing and this free-wheeling style wouldn’t work. Maybe it would, though. No way to know.

  She set the cupcake down, licked a bit of the icing from her fingers. They needed to compromise. “Tell me about The Lion. What do I need to know? Then we’ll figure out a way to mix my way with yours and I won’t wind up a photo on your phone.”

  Grey tucked the phone away, picked up a cupcake and peeled off the wrapper. “Once you have his attention, dote on him. Ask him questions. Every man likes a woman who’s totally focused on him. The Lion is a predator, just like his moniker. He’s hunting you. Your advantage isn’t your sex appeal, Sydney.” He reached over and tapped her head with a finger. “It’s your intellect. You’re the spider who’s going to lure him into your trap. Can you do that?”

  “Yes. I can do that. I’ll let the dress do the work. I’ll keep the conversation focused on him and how important he is, but I won’t be a twit. Then I’ll walk away to talk with someone else. Play hard to get and let him come find me. Will that work?”

  Grey smiled ever so slightly behind his cupcake. “Like a charm, partner. Like a charm.”

  Syd leaned forward and scooped up her cupcake again. “How about that? We actually agree on something.” She held up the cupcake. “Thanks for the treat. Love cupcakes. My mother used to take me to a bakery in Georgetown. They had the most amazing chocolate cupcakes with peanut butter filling. And they had sprinkles on top. I can still taste them even though the bakery has been gone for five years.”

  He opened his mouth to reply and she caught herself. Why had she mentioned her mother? But Grey saw her tense and instead of saying anything, took a bite of his cupcake. As he chewed, he nodded. “I’ve never tried these red things before. They’re pretty good.”

  “That’s what’s great about cupcakes. It’s like a surprise every time. Sure you can buy an entire red velvet cake, but wouldn’t it be more fun to have a bunch of cupcakes that were all different flavors? Variety, Fed Boy. It makes life interesting.”

  Grey’s gaze scanned her naked thigh once more. Variety seemed to be something he liked and needed more of. “I get the feeling life with you is always interesting.”

  “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

  Grey adjusted the Burris scope until the front entrance of the Panthera Leo was in the crosshairs. In three minutes, Sydney would arrive with a contingency of Smoking Gun escorts and be shepherded inside for the party.

  She was way too excited about meeting The Lion. Way too excited. While Grey didn’t mind stepping out of his comfort zone when necessity dictated, Sydney jumped out of hers with the force of a bull on speed.

  Underneath her ‘get it done’ attitude, Grey knew she was scared, but hell if she let anything like plain ol’ fear stop her. He’d done his best to reassure her he was there if she needed him, but she’d waved him off like this was nothing but a tea party.

  If push came to shove—and in his experience, it always did—he’d barrel through the tight security to get to her.

  And security was tight. A visiting dignitary from Jordan, like any Middle East country, had enemies. Not only did he have his own entourage of protection agents, the Secret Service was shadowing him. Grey had spotted snipers at various spots on the mansion’s rooftops and at least three layers of law enforcement, some in plain clothes, creating a protective field around the one-acre area.

  One of those snipers sat next to Grey, his dark blue jacket flashing “FBI” in white letters across his back as they watched the mansion from a concealed spot on a nearby hill. Grey ditched his own stolen—although he preferred the term borrowed—FBI jacket next to his feet. He and Monroe were pretending to be part of the law enforcement lineup tonight. Donaldson had waved his magic Bureau wand and got Grey in under a fake ID Grey had once used on another sting operation. Tonight he was Jason Black again. But Donaldson didn’t know Monroe was there posing as a sniper. If things went the way Grey planned, no one would know. Not even Sydney. It was Monroe’s call, and Grey respected his ex-partner’s wishes.

  “You like her, don’t you?” Monroe said.

  Grey didn’t take his gaze off the road. “She’s a wildcard. I’m taking a big chance using her for this sting.”

  Monroe’s shaggy brown hair was pulled away from his face in a low ponytail to keep his line of vision clear. Grey didn’t need to see his former partner to know the man made a sarcastic face to go along with a derisive grunt. “So you want to bang her. ’Bout damn time.”

  Grey so did not want to have this conversation. Women took one look at Monroe and threw themselves at his feet. He had that charm about him, that silent, damaged bad boy thing women found so appealing. Grey was too quiet, too much in his head for most women.

  I’m not most women. The words Sydney had said to him the previous day rang in his ears.

  She certainly wasn’t. “Damn time for what?”

  “Time you cleared your head and moved on with your pathetic life.”

  Monroe was goading him. Trying to piss him off to take his mind off Sydney and the fact he’d thrown her in the lion’s den. Literally. “Good to have you back, Roe.”

  Another disgruntled noise erupted from his ex-partner’s throat. “Someone has to cover your damn ass.”

  The president and vice-president were due to arrive in half an hour. There was probably no safer place in Washington tonight. Didn’t matter. Sweat beaded along Grey’s hairline. His temples pounded from clenching his teeth. The night was just getting started and he had his best asset on her way, but he wouldn’t relax until this was over. Until she was safe and sound again.

  “Smoking Gun limo, three o’clock,” Monroe said.

  Grey shifted the Burris and caught sight of the slick, black limo that blended in perfectly with all the other official cars arriving at the Panthera. The only difference between the escort service’s car and the government cars was the discreet Smoking Gun logo in the lower left corner of the back window.

  The limo stopped at the designated spot. A protection agent, dressed like a bellman, held out a gloved hand and helped the women out of the car. One by one, beautiful young girls stepped out. Sydney would argue they were women, but in Grey’s eyes, they were like Molly, and too young, too innocent to be anything other than girls.

  Over the next several seconds, six girls emerged. The bellman held out his hand once more and a long pause ensued.

  “Your girl got cold feet?” Monroe asked.

  He almost told Monroe that Sydney couldn’t stand being called a girl, but instead held his breath. Touched his earbud, connecting him to her in the only way he had.

  “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.” The earbud had an advanced microphone in it so she could hear him as well as speak to him. “Go inside, wait for me. I’ll come get you.”

  He was already making up a fictitious story in his head to get past the front entrance guards when a slim leg adorned in a bright red shoe popped out of the limo’s open door. In his ear, Syd’s voice spoke bar
ely above a whisper. “Relax, Fed Boy.”

  She rose from the limo, a bright explosion of color against the black car as she accepted the bellman’s hand, flashed her megawatt smile at him and strutted up the carpeted steps. Passing the guards who held the door open, she once again spoke under her breath. “This is the most fun I’ve had in ages.”

  Fun. Jesus. His stomach did backflips. The grip he had on the Burris tightened. “Remember the rules, Sydney.”

  Monroe swung his gaze away from the sniper’s scope and arched a pretty-boy eyebrow. “Fuck. You didn’t give her Grey’s Rules of Engagement, did you?” He shook his head, returned his attention to the Panthera without waiting for an answer. “Is it any wonder women dump your Type-A ass? You don’t have to control everything. Especially women. The more you try to control them, the faster they’ll run away.”

  Grey touched his earbud again, disconnecting the line from Sydney. She’s not most women. “This one’s different.”

  Monroe narrowed his blue, all-knowing eyes and smiled. “Different is good.”

  Maybe. “You’ll like her. She’s a lot like you.”

  “Crazy, you mean? I like her already. She has to be crazy if she’s putting up with your sorry ass.” He returned his focus to the scope, made an adjustment. “Question is, is she crazy beautiful or crazy nuts?”

  Both. “She should be in the foyer getting patted down.”

  Grey adjusted his own scope, bringing an area to the right of the door into view through the bay window. All the escorts were put through a staging area akin to airport security. Guards patted them down, checked their purses for weapons and then passed them on to more guards who guided them to the reception area.

  “Changing the subject like always,” Monroe mocked. “You should get in touch with your emotions, G. Women like that.”