Stealing Justice (The Justice Team)

by Misty Evans

  The deputy medical examiner was passionate about her job, but always professional. She held out a hand. “May I?”

  Giving her the bag with the blue veil, Grey removed the other veil from its bag and held it up to Kristin’s neck. He and Donaldson reviewed the ties and visually compared the marks left by the murder weapon.

  “It’s possible,” Dr. Smith said at the same time Grey said, “Bingo.”

  The marks on the left side of the girl’s neck were a perfect match to the veil’s ties.

  Gotcha, you son of a bitch.

  Sydney glanced up from her latest intake report when Grey strode into her office and shut the door. Fed Boy was looking all business in his suit and tie. Not that she minded. Lately, anything he wore pleased her just fine.

  He dropped into one of her guest chairs and leveled his gaze on her. Direct. Fierce. Heat scorched her core. “I just came from the medical examiner’s office.”

  Way to kill a mood. “Lucky you.”

  “Yeah. By the way, Jennifer didn’t see anything in the yard. And, before you ask, yes, the agents who questioned her believe she’s being truthful.”

  “I see. What did the medical examiner say?”

  “The veils The Lion gave you are a match to the marks on the dead girl’s neck.”

  Syd breathed in as sharp flicks battered her skin. “Is it enough to arrest him?”

  “Right now all we have are veils that can be bought anywhere by anyone. Plus, I didn’t have a warrant to take them. We need a warrant for the other veils that I think are locked in his safe and then we need to prove the veils are the murder weapons by linking them to both The Lion and the dead girls.”

  “How do we do that?”

  Grey held up a small silver key. “When I tossed Ahmed’s, I took this key. I saw the safe during the security review this morning. I have to pull off searching it without getting caught.”

  “Let me see.” Syd waggled her fingers and Grey handed over the key. “You think this is a safe key?”

  “I think it’s the safe key. I’d bet my career, what’s left of it, that the trophies are inside that safe.”

  Syd sat back in her chair. “Fed Boy, you’re gonna hate what I’m about to tell you, but it might solve your problem.”

  He tilted his head. “Don’t piss me off. I’m tired and irritable.”

  Rising from her chair, she walked around the desk, sat on the edge directly in front of him and propped her feet on his chair. She knew what he needed. She just couldn’t give it to him here. Immediately he brought his hands under the hem of her slacks and rubbed them up her bare calves.

  “I’m sorry you’re tired and irritable. I’ll take care of you later.” She winked and he finally dragged a smile across his face.

  Progress.

  “Now that you’ve distracted me with thoughts of sex, you can tell me the bad news.”

  She nodded. “Ian called. The Lion invited me to his house for dinner tonight. Gotta tell you, this call girl schedule combined with my day job is killing me.”

  Grey’s eyes flew open. “Jesus, don’t say that.”

  What?

  Killing me. That’s what she’d said. To a man who lived in constant fear of his loved ones being murdered.

  She hopped off the desk and straddled him. Kissed him—hard—the way he liked it and then gently pulled back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  He drew her close and his soft breath tickled her neck. “You can’t go there alone. I have no way to protect you.”

  “I know, but if I can get into the safe, it’ll be worth it.”

  Backing away, he narrowed his eyes. “What time does he want you there?”

  “Eight o’clock.”

  “I told him I’d be back later this afternoon with the new security system. I can tell him I can’t get there until seven. I’ll make sure I stay while you’re there. Then you feign illness and leave early.”

  “That works for me. He won’t be suspicious at the timing?”

  Grey shrugged. “He’s the one who told me to come back today rather than tomorrow. I can’t help it if my schedule got hairy and I have to come later. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past the son of a bitch to time it so you were there with me.”

  This made no sense to Syd. If The Lion wanted to seduce her, which is what he’d told her, why would he want a security specialist traipsing through the house? “I don’t understand.”

  “He asked me about you this morning. He’s picked up on the special attention I pay you. I guess I suck at masking my feelings.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “I told him I pay attention to all the girls. He’s smarter than that, though. As I should have been.”

  She scooted off him, gave him a light cuff on the head, and leaned on the desk. “Knock it off. We’ve got this. I take the key, you figure out how to distract him, and I’ll see if the key fits that safe.”

  Resting his head back, he stared at the ceiling a minute, then looked at her. “There’s a landline in the kitchen.”

  “So?”

  “I’ll have someone call the landline. He’ll go answer it and it should give you enough time to open the safe.”

  “Assuming I find veils, do I grab them?”

  “Noooo. All you do is tell me they’re in there. If the veils are the murder weapons and we seize them outside of a warrant, we’re screwed. As long as I know they’re in there, we know where to look when we finally nail this psycho.”

  Syd boosted off the desk and reached a hand out to him.

  He grabbed it and squeezed. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

  Leaning down, she brushed a kiss over his mouth. “I know, Fed Boy. I know.”

  The limo parked in front of The Lion’s townhouse at 7:56. Before the driver could get out to open her door, Syd stopped him. No sense in showing up even one minute early. Let the crazy bastard wait. If he saw her sitting out here, it would piss him off.

  Maybe pissing him off wasn’t the smartest move, but the psychological warfare of this assignment, not to mention the sheer brutality of working at the shelter all day, left her mind numbingly exhausted.

  What she had was the two sides of Syd. The day side straddled the line of performing illegal activities by finding safe havens for battered women. So what if she made it possible for women to disappear and supplied them with fake documents? As long as they stayed alive, Syd would continue skirting the legal system.

  Except, the night side of Syd, the one working undercover for the FBI, the one falling hard for Grey, started to question whether straddling that line was in her best interest.

  Or Grey’s.

  Ack. Why was she even thinking about this? Never before had she questioned the risks she took, why now?

  “It’s 7:59, miss,” the driver said.

  Game time.

  “Thank you. I’m ready.”

  The driver opened her door and she slid out, straightened her dress—a short red number from her closet—and marched toward the brownstone.

  The front door opened and Ahmed stood in the entry, his hungry gaze taking her in as she approached. She stopped just before entering and met his stare.

  “You’re staring, Ahmed.”

  “I am indeed. You look lovely.”

  He held out his hand and Syd, not wanting to insult a suspected serial killer, took it. “Thank you. I thought you would like the red.”

  He smiled his charming, innocent smile. “I’d prefer you out of it.”

  Dream on, pal. “Well, then, you know what you need to do.”

  When his smile faded, she stepped across the threshold. “Come now, Ahmed. We’ve talked about this. You promised me a seduction.” She stopped just inches in front of him and ran the tips of her fingers down his cheek. “We women enjoy the art of seduction.”

  “Eh-hem!”

  Syd spun toward the direction of a third voice. Grey stood on a ladder in the living room wiring a sensor to the wall. Ano
ther man stood beside the ladder with a couple of tools in his hand. His shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a low ponytail and he wore a bright blue bandana around his head. Cowboy boots, along with a sly grin, completed the look and told her Grey’s former partner—at least she assumed this man was Monroe—was enjoying the show.

  “Hello, Mr. Black. This is quite the surprise.” She strode forward and held out her hand to Monroe. “I don’t believe we’ve met. Are you from Front Range?”

  Monroe covertly winked at her as he shifted the hammer to his other hand and shook hers. “Max. I’m an independent security contractor.”

  “Here to protect me from Ahmed’s seduction?”

  “Silence!” Ahmed yelled and the sound, like wood being sawed, cut right through her.

  Grey shook his head and went back to his wiring. She’d get a lecture for sure.

  “Forgive me,” she said, returning to The Lion’s side. “I sometimes forget we Americans have our own brand of humor.”

  Ahmed turned his slaughtering glare on Grey. “How long until you are done in here?”

  “I can start upstairs if you need this room.”

  “Do that. When we adjourn for dinner, you may finish in here.”

  With one long look at the abandoned sensor, Grey descended the ladder. “Fine.”

  Syd turned her back to Ahmed and mouthed an apology as Grey marched past with Monroe on his heels. Monroe’s lips were pinched in a way that suggested he was holding back a laugh.

  Lecture. Sure to come.

  She watched Grey climb the stairs, ladder in hand, and her shoulders seized. Damned knots. Still, if she screamed, he’d be there. Even if he was mad at her.

  “Sit,” Ahmed demanded.

  Oh, boy.

  She sat. In the chair. Not the sofa. No sense inviting trouble by leaving him room to sit by her. Suddenly, the realization that she had managed to piss off both the good guy and the bad guy slammed into her. Not too many women could pull that one off.

  She snorted.

  What else could she do faced with this hot-ass mess?

  From the kitchen, the phone rang.

  This is it.

  Adrenalin surged. Syd took a quiet breath.

  “I must get that,” Ahmed said.

  “Take your time.”

  Please.

  The second he left the room, Syd dug into her bra for the safe key. If the man turned back and saw this, he’d think she was playing with her own boobs. Somehow, she managed to find humor in that thought despite her trembling hands.

  God help me.

  Key in hand, she strode to the painting of the veiled woman. She’d loved that painting the moment she’d seen it. The idea of murder weapons being hidden behind it wouldn’t diminish its beauty, but there was some sick irony to the veils being stored behind a beautiful woman.

  Sick, twisted bastard.

  Sweat pebbled on her upper lip and she wiped it away. No time for nerves.

  The Lion’s voice carried from the kitchen, something about a file. Who the hell had Fed Boy coerced into calling?

  Focus.

  She swung the painting to the side and jammed the key into the lock.

  No dice. Using her other hand to insure she didn’t drop the key, she flipped it upside down and tried again.

  Please fit, please fit, please fit.

  She gave it one good push, but nothing. Whatever the key was, it didn’t give access to this safe.

  “I must go,” Ahmed said from the other room.

  “Shit,” Syd muttered.

  Gotta get the key hidden again. She squeezed the key between her thumb and index finger and pulled.

  And, oh, no. No. No. No. It could not be stuck.

  A sharp, hot explosion of hysteria bubbled in her throat. The goddamned key was stuck. And Ahmed was on his way back.

  “Psst!” she heard from the stairway.

  She spun and saw Grey, his arms held wide in question.

  “Stuck,” she mouthed.

  Immediately, he barreled down the remaining stairs and sprinted toward her.

  “I’ll take care of it. Go distract him.”

  “I love you,” she cracked.

  “Yeah, she says that now. Go!”

  She took off toward the kitchen, teetering on her high-heels and praying she’d intercept Ahmed before he spotted Grey messing with his safe.

  Vomit replaced the hysteria in her throat and she swallowed once, twice, then a third time. If she puked all over Ahmed, it would certainly be the distraction they needed. She could use this.

  She reached the kitchen doorway and ran smack into Ahmed, shoving him backward. “I think I’m going to be sick. Bathroom!”

  “Of course.” In a moment of sensitivity, he eased an arm around her waist and guided her to the bathroom. “Let me help you.”

  The man was a puzzle. Syd began to wonder if he might be bi-polar. His moods shifted like the ocean during a hurricane.

  He deposited her at the powder room door. “Will you be all right?”

  “I think so. But, could you stay by the door in case I need you?”

  Or at least until Grey gets the key out of your safe.

  Not waiting for a response, she shut the door. Might as well have a seat and give Grey a few more minutes. They should have worked out some kind of signal.

  She glanced around. Why the hell did she always wind up in a bathroom contemplating her next move?

  “Are you well?” Ahmed asked from the hallway.

  She couldn’t sit here long. He’d come in and check on her. “My stomach is queasy. I just need a moment. Please don’t leave me.” Begging couldn’t hurt.

  For emphasis, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands. A look in the mirror confirmed, thankfully, her less than comfortable state. Ahmed didn’t need to know the real reasons behind her discomfort.

  Fed Boy, I hope you got that key out.

  She swung the door open and offered a half-hearted smile. “I’m sorry. I’ve been feeling a little off today.”

  Grey appeared in the hallway. “Cindy, are you okay?”

  “She’s fine. Go back to work.”

  Grey cut his gaze to Ahmed—wrong move Mr. Lion—and came back to Syd. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded.

  “She’s well. Now we’ll get back to our evening.” Ahmed poked a beefy finger at Grey. “You, get back to work.”

  Grey inched toward him.

  Syd, her back to Ahmed, eased between the two men. “Boys, let’s all play nice now.”

  Suddenly, Ahmed’s hand slipped under her arm and linked around her, his fingers hot and branding. She stepped forward an inch, but The Lion tightened his lock. Grey’s gaze shot to Ahmed’s fingers inching their way up Syd’s torso until his thumb brushed her breast.

  Back and forth that thumb went and Syd ignored the panic rippling inside her. She focused on Grey, trying to pull his heated stare from Ahmed’s hand.

  Don’t you lose it.

  “Come, my love,” Ahmed said. “We have things to do.”

  Syd couldn’t see behind her, but she was quite sure by the way Grey looked over her shoulder that he and Ahmed were having one hell of a staring match.

  “Maybe she doesn’t want you touching her that way,” Grey said.

  “I’ll touch her any way I please.” The other hand came around and he cupped her breast, giving it a vicious squeeze. Syd gasped at the paralyzing pressure. “I’ve paid for this!”

  Grey’s face contorted into hollowed out lines and the hatred in his eyes, that raw anger he kept at bay, seeped out.

  Game over.

  Underneath it all, she and Grey were essentially the same animal with similar trigger points. When those triggers were hit, their reactions were swift and targeted. Having an acute understanding of those reactions, those animal instincts, Syd did the only thing she could do.

  She jumped the hell out of the way before Grey’s fist plowed into The Lion’s jaw.

  Cha
pter Twenty-five

  There was nothing more satisfying, Grey decided as Ahmed staggered backward and flailed against the kitchen sink, than nailing a killer in the mouth with a good right hook.

  His training had him taking a second swing—follow-through was important—but a heavy weight latched onto his bicep and stopped his fist in midair. “We don’t accost customers,” Monroe growled. “Bad for business.”

  The voice cheering wildly in Grey’s head drowned out Monroe’s. Screwed up again, buddy boy. Way to go.

  Damn. As the red haze of his anger cleared, Grey lowered his fist. Frustration boiled in his veins. First, the key didn’t unlock the safe and then The Lion mistreated Sydney. Grabbed her breast like he owned it. Mauled her right in front of God and country. Untouchable. The bastard thought he was untouchable.

  Wasn’t this the night from hell?

  Even though Grey had screwed up royally, he wasn’t going to apologize. In fact, if he could detach Monroe’s vice of a grip, he’d…

  Monroe’s hand tightened and he used some full-body contact to spin Grey out of the way. The hero, always up to save the day. “Our apologies, Mr. Khourey. My partner, here, has been under a lot of stress lately. Front Range will give you a significant discount on your system and throw in my bodyguard duties free of charge.”

  Ahmed touched his fingers to his bleeding lip, sneered at Grey, and spit blood onto the floor at Grey’s feet. “How dare you touch me. I will have you fired.”

  Grey laughed, an ugly sound that vibrated inside the kitchen and rang hollow in his ears. That was one threat that didn’t scare him. He started to smart off and say something stupid, but a lighter touch stroked his spine from behind.

  Syd.

  Taking a purposeful breath, he shut down the rage and frustration. He had a job to do and it didn’t involve veils or the FBI or Front Range.

  He had to protect her.

  The Lion was riled up but good. There would be fallout. So long as he takes it out on me and not Syd.

  Raising his hands in a submissive gesture, Grey locked eyes with Ahmed. “That was completely unprofessional and you have every right to file a complaint with Front Range. You also have every right to take a swing at me, which would probably be more satisfying.”