Justice Incarnate

by Regan Black

  "Oh! That little bauble from the museum gift shop?" she said more loudly than necessary.

  His eyes darted around, searching out eavesdroppers or worse. But the street was empty.

  "Nervous?" she teased.

  "No."

  "Then, why the jitters?" She stilled the fake red nails drumming against his opposite arm.

  He froze, staring first at her hand, then her face. His eyes captivated her, transporting her to another time and place before the dark reality of her recycled lives began.

  "Who are you, Jaden Michaels?"

  His question yanked her back to the present dilemma. "Just a woman on a mission, girlfriend. Let's do this thing."

  Who am I? She sulked as they angled toward the alley between the station and the holding cells. Who am I? If just once he'd remember maybe they'd be done with all this. But no, Mr. Jigsaw here, needed to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together. Trouble was he'd never adapted to the evolving picture.

  "Okay. Let me do the talking," he said.

  "Why don't you let me take us in?"

  He stared at her.

  She laughed, nudged him and kept moving. "You're blowing our cover. Girls like us would be looking for a night out, not a heart to heart on the street. Thought you were good with the whole deep-undercover thing."

  At the next corner, she turned to double back to the side entrance nearest his office.

  "I am." He bit out the words. "I know what I'm doing."

  "Uh-huh." She eyed the lock system. "Now be prepared. It's likely to be eulogy central in there. Don't let it go to your head and forget what you came for."

  "No chance."

  She slid an access card through the lock and pushed the door open. "Then let's get going and get gone."

  Brian followed instead of arguing. Until the high heels biting his feet clacked loudly against the floor. In front of him, Jaden's heels were silent. "How do you do that?" he hissed.

  She tossed a feminine, superior glance over her shoulder and continued toward his office.

  He opened his mouth, but familiar voices from the detective's bullpen made him forget any smart-ass comeback. What was Judge Albertson doing here?

  "Has the suspect been apprehended?" the Judge asked.

  Jaden froze, listening intently for the reply.

  "You mean the escapee?" Loomis snarled.

  "Whomever! Transport will come under investigation for this fiasco," the Judge shouted.

  "It was your damned verdict. None of this shoulda happened."

  "You will not speak to me like that!"

  Jaden twitched and Brian yanked her back before she could lunge into the bullpen. Exposing themselves now wasn't the way.

  Flicking the ridiculous bauble hanging from his ear he made his point. His disguise wasn't up to direct scrutiny. Her eyes dark with irritated resignation, she gave a clipped nod and they ducked into his darkened office together.

  She stayed at the door, crouching beneath the window to keep watch and listen to the flaring tempers. If circumstances were different, he'd allow himself to notice the fine cut of her legs, the smooth stretch of skin that on any other woman might have him itching to touch.

  But stuck in both harsh reality and female costume, Brian focused on recovering the necklace. Using the master code rather than his personal code, he unlocked the desk drawer. Within seconds the opal and his spare gun were tucked safely away in the mammoth shoulder bag. On reflex, he skimmed the reports lying on his desk and snagged a redlined file before pulling Jaden away from her post.

  Back on the street, the raging argument in their wake, a much-too-quiet Jaden matched his quick pace as he aimed for the nearest el platform.

  "We'll switch trains a couple times before we head back."

  "Better off walking," she countered, refusing to even climb the stairs.

  "Not as women."

  "Afraid you can't handle yourself in heels?" She strolled away with an ease he envied.

  "I'm doing fine," he called after her. But he'd never try this stunt again. He tugged his oversized purse back onto his shoulder and thought back over those reports. "I'm sorry about your friend," he said when he'd caught up with her.

  "Brenda?"

  He'd meant Larry, but he followed her lead. "She lived in Pierview, right?"

  "Yeah. That was the murder-suicide call?"

  He nodded.

  "And the evidence points to Brenda's ex, today's defendant, right?"

  He nodded again. "You're not surprised."

  "Not a bit. And if you are, you're not the police chief the masses adore. Especially after watching my place go up in flames."

  "All right, your place made me think. But your attitude tells me you know something about the scene at Brenda's."

  "Yup. I know Judge A ordered it."

  Brian shook his wigged head. "So now you're psychic–and me without a hotline."

  "I'd normally be happy to kick your butt for that comment. But seeing how Brenda's only as dead as the two of us, I'll let it pass."

  "H-how's that?" Brian sputtered, catching his heel in the cracked sidewalk.

  "I changed her ID. The transport officer took her to a safe house. By now I suspect she's halfway to Cuba."

  "You can't do that. You have no–"

  "Authority?" She quirked a high and mighty brow. "I've got all the authority I need."

  "I was going to say proof. And what about the bodies? The evidence?"

  "Oh, build a bridge, girlfriend. If you really searched the records you've seen evidence manipulated. You know the proof was real in Brenda's case. And isn't gathering more proof your top priority right now?"

  "No." He twisted in his skirt. "Right now, I'd kill for my boxers."

  "Boxers? I was sure the chief wore briefs."

  He didn't have a chance to reply. A blow to his back knocked him face-first to the pavement. Gasping for air, he struggled to keep his wits, and his purse, with him. Gathering the bag to his midsection, he rolled away from the would-be thief.

  Brian anticipated the next advance and dodged. Coming to his feet, he spun and jumped his attacker, landing on top of him and stealing the mugger's air. Denying the savage urge, he rendered his attacker unconscious with one quick blow, instead of pummeling the bald head to the concrete.

  He looked around for Jaden, fearing the worst, only to see her sparring with a second thug. And sparring was the word. Her relaxed stance and easy block of the each advance contradicted the life or death reality of the scene.

  Suddenly a kick connected with her side and she doubled over, bringing Brian to his senses. Gaining his feet despite the tight skirt, he came to her aid. This wasn't some bizarre pay-per-view video. This was all too real. Before he could help, he realized Jaden had feigned the weakness to draw her opponent closer for the debilitating combination of elbow to solar plexus and hammer fist to neck.

  The immediate crisis over, Brian dug into his bag for plastic restraints to confine the assailants.

  "Where'd you get those," Jaden asked, dusting the fight off her palms.

  "Office." He bent over, hands on thighs, trying to catch a deep breath. He couldn't get the image of an injured Jaden out of his head. He didn't want to dwell on why he felt such a desperate rush to protect her. Not even thinking of the business at hand swept his mind clear, though he tried.

  "We need to ID these two." He nudged the unconscious thugs lying between them with his toe. "And decide how to contact the nearest precinct." He took a step and turned his ankle. "Well, damn. The heel's broken."

  Jaden found the broken piece and toyed with it. "Y'know, you make one really lousy woman."

  "Well, praise God for small favors."

  Her mouth fell open and those lovely amber eyes went wide. He swiveled around, braced for another attack, when the most remarkable thing happened.

  She laughed.

  "What's so funny?" he demanded.

  Jaden's face ached with the grin she couldn't stop. His disguise woul
dn't fool anyone now. The wig and skirt were well off center, the makeup and shoes ruined.

  "Give me your other shoe." She held out her hand, waiting. When he handed it over she broke the heel off and handed it back.

  "The rest of the walk will be easier."

  "Thoughtful looks good on you," he muttered, forcing his feet back into the mangled footwear.

  "Don't tell anyone."

  "Real kindness would be taking the el." He sent her a hangdog look.

  "Rome wasn't built in a day, Suzie Q." She walked away.

  "What about these two?"

  She shrugged. "Let the neighborhood deal with its own. We've got a lead to follow."

  "What lead?" He fell into step with her and leaned over her shoulder.

  She fluttered the scrap of paper, worn from folding and unfolding. "Check this out. It's a map of sorts."

  "Ah, hell. You made us targets?"

  "You're a very bright girl, aren't you?" she said, studying the map, trying to decipher symbols along the side. Then she glanced back up to see his face dark with temper. "Oh, ease up. We conquered."

  "Some warning would've been nice," he groused. "You could let me in on your plans."

  "I think that skirt's gone to your head. You know how undercover work goes. Besides, trouble's never too far away."

  "In your case, I agree completely."

  She refused to let him get under her skin. He'd be out of the picture soon anyway. Providing she could persuade him to let her go as soon as she'd killed the Judge.

  Jaden stuffed the map into her pocket and they continued on toward Micky's. She mulled over what she'd heard in the station house and what they'd dealt with on the street. "You handled yourself well, Brian."

  "For a desk jockey?"

  "Where'd you pick that one up, a retro site?" To her surprise, he gave his answer some thought.

  "I'm not sure. My slang's always been a little behind the times."

  Jaden ordered the eager sensation near her heart to stop. Just because he used outdated euphemisms didn't mean he'd be receptive to the notion of having lived, loved and let her down, repeatedly, over the past millennia or so.

  Rounding the corner to Micky's place, she stilled, struck by a memory of this same neighborhood in the early nineteen hundreds.

  "Want me to carry that for you?"

  "The map?"

  "No." He smiled and alarms went off in her head. "The chip on your shoulder."

  She flicked an imaginary speck of dirt from the point in question. "Nah, I'm good."

  And just that simply, she ditched the sweetness of nostalgia for the bitter present and stormed through the gates of Micky's fortress.

  They reached the suite, thankfully without having to chat with Micky or any of his girls. She was in no mood for anything that didn't further her mission.

  "So what'd we steal?" she asked when the suite door closed behind Brian.

  He gently set the purse aside. "We recovered a necklace."

  Her curiosity reared up. "From the museum? Can I see it?"

  "Here?" He stripped off the wig and unzipped the skirt.

  "We're safe enough." She wiggled her fingers eagerly. "Have you had it appraised?"

  "Obviously not."

  "Because?" She mentally crossed her fingers. Maybe he remembered having it commissioned all those lives ago.

  "It is technically stolen property."

  She slumped back onto the couch and closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at her past, likely present and future executioner anymore.

  "Besides," Brian continued, "I don't really care what it's worth. I feel a sort of connection to it. I like it."

  She peeked, watching him from beneath her lashes. She saw him stash the velvet bag way back into a drawer before heading to the bathroom.

  "So you'll want to return it to its rightful owner?"

  "Yeah. I'll get on that just as soon as my manhood's restored."

  She chuckled, but kept her eyes shut until she heard the door close and the ionic shower begin. Then she went straight for the necklace.

  And taking it in her hands again, she felt the years slip away. Once more she was young and in love. She could smell summer roses. The sunshine danced on the water, every diamond-drop a tiny reflection of the abundant hope within her heart.

  But surrounding the warm edges of that glory crept the familiar haze of fear for her future, both mortal and eternal.

  * * *

  Brian stepped out of the bathroom, content once more in boxers and the more masculine jeans and T-shirt. He considered himself as prepped as ever for the next verbal attack from Jaden when the look on her face stopped him cold.

  She held the necklace with reverence and longing. Her face glowed with what, on any other woman, he'd label as love. Clearly she was caught up in a daydream. As awful as the day had been, he hesitated to steal the moment from her. But when her expression changed to vivid, gripping sorrow, he intervened.

  "Here. Let me."

  "I just wanted to see it."

  Her thready voice troubled him more than the grief in her eyes. "I know. I have to look at it, too." He had to hold it or struggle with his twitchy hands and rapid heart rate.

  She blinked, and the word vulnerable popped into his mind. A word wildly unsuited to Jaden. "It's okay," he soothed. "Weird, but okay. We'll figure it out."

  "Figure what out?"

  "This whole bizarre situation–"

  She was glaring at him now and the vulnerability evaporated under the quick head of steam building with her temper. "Calm down, Jaden" he soothed as she came to her feet, necklace swinging from her locked fist.

  "Why him?" she asked with a calm voice completely at odds with her flashing eyes.

  "I'm not tracking."

  "What draws you to him? What keeps you close when you know he's no good?"

  "First of all, I know no such thing. There's no evidence to point to the Judge for the crimes against these girls."

  "'These girls' aren't good enough for you? These girls want lives, families. These girls are trying to survive in a whacked society set against them. These girls are brave enough to keep surviving and you don't give a damn simply because they're mules?"

  He waited to be certain her outburst was spent. "Quit twisting my point. There's no evidence, Jaden. And from a security stand point–is the Judge a likely threat?" He saw the fury blaze across her face and braced himself. But her expression mellowed into resignation.

  "I don't want to fight with you," he continued. "I want to figure this out so we can restore your life. And mine." And why did he feel better thinking those lives should be intertwined?

  Because she was a danger to herself, if no one else. Going off half-cocked against the likes of the Judge. Going out of her way to prove him wrong, to embarrass him in his own courtroom. She'd been baiting him–oh shit–could she be right? Could the Judge be pissed off enough to blow her place?

  "That should be enough. You'll have your evidence and I'll prove I can play nice with others."

  He hadn't heard a word she'd said.

  "Well, coming sheriff?"

  "That's Chief to you."

  She gave a half smile and a shrug. "Same diff."

  "Haven't heard that one in forever."

  "Me neither. Put that away and let's rock."

  He stashed the necklace and then rummaged through the purse for the gun and ammunition. There was no telling what she'd planned while he'd been shuffling facts in his head.

  It seemed safe to bet on danger.

  Jaden pushed open the discreet door between Micky's office and his security center. "Let's start here." She ignored the panel of monitors, hoping Brian would do the same. "I've matched up routes and schedules with attacks." She approached the table covered with her research and lit up the small computer that held Micky's personal notes.

  "Any trends yet?"

  She shook her head. "Not anything obvious, but–"

  "Random may be the pattern,"
he finished for her.

  "Right. Micky's mules--girls," she amended pointedly, "work their routes alone. Just one more thing tucked into a purse or backpack."

  "Then who busted the route? And how?"

  "You know anything's for sale. But if you're at the top of the pyramid, you can see it all."

  "I thought Micky topped this food chain."

  "Micky thought so too." Jaden looked up from the maps and notes on the table. "Why haven't you ever busted him? Not even a single inspection under false pretense."

  "Despite your glowing opinion, Ms. Michaels, my department doesn't operate that way."

  She snorted. "Of course it does. Micky runs sugar and nicotine, both banned substances, yet you've never hauled him in."

  Brian shuffled his feet and became too interested in the paperwork. "He's not hurting anyone."

  "Tell that to the Health Coalition."

  "I have."

  A trembling began in her knees, making Jaden glad for the nearby chair. She collapsed into it just as whimpers of a young new victim played an ominous backdrop to this revelation.

  "When?"

  "Four or five years a–"

  She launched herself from the chair to his arms.

  "Whoa, Bessie."

  She wished she could laugh at his archaic turn of phrase. But her priority was holding on to him, to separate herself from the victim's agony. She heard him muttering nonsense in her ear, felt his hands soothe the bunched muscles along her spine and reveled in it a moment, before cursing her weakness.

  "Sorry." She leaned back a bit, and then dared a full step more. But she kept her fingers twined with his as she resumed her seat.

  "Can I have this back?" He tried to extricate his hand.

  "No. Not yet." She checked the wall clock. "Five minutes, maybe ten."

  "Explain," he ordered.

  "Eventually."

  With her free hand she scrolled through Micky's notes on his routes. "Trouble began about eighteen months ago."

  "No connection there."

  "I see a clear connection. Right there." She pointed.

  Behind her, Brian snorted. "So Micky sees the Judge dining with the Health Chairman, so what? It's a free country."

  "Used to be freer."