Missing Justice (The Justice Team Book 7)

by Adrienne Giordano

  Mer went off on another tangent and Taylor tuned her out. Matt had promised to meet at her place in twenty minutes to go over her list. She didn’t plan on getting much sleep tonight anyway since her 72 hours were almost over. Unfortunately, she couldn’t line up interviews until morning, but maybe if she went over the ten solid leads she had with Matt, she could reduce them further. Come morning, she and Matt could divvy them up and go to town. She had already primed her team for a 7 am meeting where she would lay out her plan of attack like a football coach going over the team’s playbook. The only thing she had yet to decide was whether to do a man-to-man defense or zone blitz. That would be determined on how many solid leads she and Matt decided on tonight.

  If she ever got Mer off the phone…

  Keys in hand, she passed the center pylon with a big C on it and spotted her car in the end slot. Another long, brutal day, but her adrenaline was pumping. They were close, so close.

  “Mer,” she interrupted, “I really need to go.”

  Her eyes burned from too many hours staring at her computer screen and she wished she had an extra hand to rub them. But with her briefcase in one hand, keys and travel mug in the other, and the phone tucked between her ear and shoulder, she fought back a yawn and blinked the irritation away as best she could.

  “AD Cunningham will be at our meeting. Don’t let me down, Sinclair.”

  Her vision blurred for a second, the shadows around her car seeming to stir and ripple. She blinked again and pulled up short, her adrenaline-fueled limbs getting another jolt.

  Someone had just crawled out from under her car.

  A man in black rose quickly to his knees, then jumped to his feet, eyeing her through a black ski mask.

  “Taylor?” Her boss’s voice seemed far away. “Did you hear me?”

  Taylor stopped, wondering if she should drop the stuff in her hands and go for her weapon.

  Unarmed. At least she didn’t see a gun. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  She couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he grinned behind the mask. She kept an eye on his hands, but he didn’t reach for any weapon.

  “What did you just say to me?” Meredith screeched.

  She took a step forward, shifting her keys to her briefcase hand. “I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing, but you’re messing with the wrong woman.”

  The man pivoted and started to run.

  Meredith said something else, but Taylor let the phone fall.

  Bastard! Heady anger roared through her. First her house, now her car? Who was this fucker and who did he think he was dealing with?

  Dropping the briefcase and keys, she threw the stainless steel travel mug as hard as she could. The mug smacked the man in the back of the head, knocking him off balance. He threw his hands out as he hit the wall, giving Taylor the chance she needed to catch up to him.

  He pushed off the wall; she jumped on him, taking him to the ground. He wasn’t much taller than she was, but outweighed her enough to flip her over, the back of her head smacking into the concrete floor.

  She sent a fist into his nose, hearing the crack of cartilage. He grunted and jumped up, ready to take off again, so she snagged his foot and tripped him.

  His body crashed to the floor and he kicked back, trying to shake off her grip. She held on, jackknifing her legs around and nailing him square in the kidneys with the toe of her boot.

  He arched from the blow and cursed, the word low, guttural. One of his fists came out of nowhere, nailing her in the stomach.

  The pain was intense but she didn’t let go, wrapping her legs around his and flipping them both over again, her on top, pinning him facedown on the floor.

  His weight once again worked in his favor as he did a pushup and unseated her. She fell beside him, rolled away from a hard kick, then used her momentum to spring back up.

  Could this be Felicity’s killer? The baby’s kidnapper?

  She drew her weapon, the sound of Mer’s hysterical voice on the ground behind her. “Come on, asshole,” she said, licking her lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  He came to his feet, chest heaving. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  A dozen comebacks and questions ran through her mind. “You’re done. This ends here and now. Put your hands up.”

  Yep, that was a grin behind the mask. Same as before. “Fuck you.”

  And oh, she needed to wipe that grin off his face. Her firearms training kicked in and she held the gun aimed at center mass. “Go ahead. Give it a try.”

  He roared with anger, rushing her low. She fired, nailing him in the shoulder, but it didn’t stop his charge. He took her to the ground, knocking the weapon from her hand.

  He reared back, sitting on top of her and Taylor sent a fist to his chin. His head snapped back and he jumped up, holding his shoulder and staggering.

  She rolled to her feet and saw his gaze land on her gun.

  The man went for it and Taylor tackled him this time, knocking him onto the trunk of her car. He bounced left and Taylor spun and kicked out, landing a heel to his knee before he could regain his balance.

  She heard a pop, her spin taking her back around to connect a fist to his temple.

  But he didn’t go down.

  Who is this guy? The Terminator?

  He swung at her head. She ducked, breathing heavy. He snatched up her briefcase and hit her square in the kidneys.

  Damn, that hurt.

  Don’t let him steal the briefcase!

  Her job, as well as the life of an innocent boy, depended on the information she had in it.

  Of course, Ski Mask could be the key to both as well.

  She sent another roundhouse kick at him, knocking the briefcase from his hands. The case slid under her car.

  Safe.

  It might be safe, but she wasn’t.

  It was time to end this escapade.

  Another growl erupted from Ski Mask’s mouth as he lunged at her. Taylor had just enough time to send an elbow toward his face, connecting with his cheek.

  He saw it coming and deftly avoided the worst of the jab, knocking her onto the trunk of her car.

  “Hey!” she heard a man yell from the area near the elevators. “Let go of her!”

  The security guard must have seen them on the video feed.

  Better late than never.

  Ski Mask grabbed her ponytail and jerked her head back, his mouth coming close to her ear. “You’re screwed, bitch. I’m going to make you pay.”

  He slammed her forehead down onto the car twice in quick succession. As Taylor’s vision whited out, she heard the security guard’s footsteps running toward her as the heavy thud of Ski Mask’s boots went the other way.

  Her legs wouldn’t hold her and she slipped to the ground, blackness taking her under.

  * * *

  Taylor was banged up good. At least she’d had the sense to call him. She sat in the back of an ambulance summoned by the security guard, arguing the whole time with an EMT surveying the damage to her forehead.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s barely a scrape.”

  “You could have a concussion.”

  “I don’t. Not even dizzy.”

  “Taylor,” Matt said. “Quit breaking the guy’s balls and let him do his job.”

  “I’m not going to the hospital. This is silly. I’m sure someone, somewhere in this city, just got shot. You guys should be treating that person, not me.”

  The corner of the EMT’s mouth quirked. Encouraging her pissy behavior by laughing wouldn’t help.

  “Look,” the guy said, “I can’t force you to go to the hospital. All I can do is recommend it. Which I do. Strongly.”

  Taylor waved a hand. “Yep. Got it. You’re off the hook. Now let me out of here.”

  The guy looked at Matt, his face a cross between frustration and good-luck-pal. “She’s all yours.”

  Matt whipped out a toothy smile. “Thanks for that.”

  The EMT
helped Taylor off the back of the bus and she immediately started moving toward her car where a DC cop waited.

  “We put out a BOLO,” the cop said, “but…”

  “I know,” Taylor said. “It’s not likely my guy is running through the streets of DC in a ski mask, leaving a nice breadcrumb trail of blood from his bullet wound for us to follow.”

  “We’ll pull security video. He probably took the mask off and maybe we’ll get a look at his face. You never know.”

  “Thank you, Officer. I appreciate it.”

  He handed her a business card. “Call that number if you think of anything else.”

  “I will. And thank you.”

  The cop nodded then faced Matt, gesturing to Taylor with his chin. “She shouldn’t drive.”

  “She won’t. I’ll get her home.”

  As soon as the cop left, Taylor whirled on him, then obviously having moved too fast, swayed sideways. He grabbed hold of her, wrapping his hands around her shoulders to steady her. “Take it easy. You’ve got a head injury.”

  “I’m fine.” She closed her eyes. “Moved too fast.”

  “I see that. I can also see that your eye is swelling. You’re going to have a nice shiner from this to go along with that bump.”

  “We need to get out of here.”

  “What’s the hurry?”

  “My boss is the hurry. I was on the phone with her when all this went down. I texted when I regained consciousness to tell her I was fine, but now she’s on me. She’s called five times.”

  On cue, her phone rang. “Make that six. I’m not answering it.”

  “You can’t ignore her. She’s gotta be worried.”

  “I texted her. If I talk to her, she’ll scream at me. That I can deal with. It’s the pulling me from this case, which she will most likely do, that terrifies me.”

  The grand plan was to avoid her boss? That made zero sense. “Uh, babe, she can still pull you from the case whether you talk to her or not.”

  “She won’t do that. That’s not how she operates.” Taylor dipped her head, let out a sigh. “I don’t know how I went from being a rock star to…”

  “You’re still a rock star.”

  She looked up at him, pointed to her face. “Not. But thanks for saying that.”

  “You’ve had a few setbacks.”

  “Ha!”

  He set his hands on her shoulders again, stroking them with his thumbs. “You’re tired. And you just kicked some guy’s ass.”

  That brought a smile out of her. When Taylor gave him that smile it was like Times Square at night.

  “Now you’re sucking up. I like it.”

  He squeezed her shoulders and turned her toward his car. “I’m taking you back to my place. I probably have a can of soup somewhere. It’s the cure-all. We’ll get some food in you and I’ll put you to bed.”

  “We need to go over the leads. I have it down to ten.”

  Jeez, the woman didn’t give up. “We can do it in the morning.”

  “I have an 8 a.m. meeting that will either save my job or put the final nail in my coffin. I’m meeting with my team before that. If I have to eat, then you have to review the leads with me.”

  He glanced over at her, took in the muscle throbbing in her clenched jaw and knew he wouldn’t win. Part of being a smart man meant knowing when compromise was in order.

  Like now.

  “Deal. But I’m limiting the time. Forty minutes.”

  “Forty!”

  “Yes. And that’s generous. I mean, how long does it take to eat soup?”

  They reached his car and he opened the door for her.

  She looked up at him and the already blackening bruise on her forehead brought him back to some guy kicking the shit out of her and his blood fired hot. Damn. He’d never considered himself a hero and had no illusions about the filth he’d seen in this world. The kooks. The crazy methheads and murderers. He’d seen enough of it to know he couldn’t save the world.

  And he sure as shit couldn’t save Taylor. She could take care of herself.

  Most of the time.

  Tonight though, given the break-in at her place, he should have been with her. Still with his gaze glued to her, he reached up, ran his thumb down her cheek and dipped his head, kissing her gently, already feeling his body stir when she responded. Unlike most of their kisses, this one didn’t pack that urgent punch. The get-your-clothes-off-NOW anticipation that typically sparked their sexual marathons.

  He liked it. The slow, easy pace. The lack of rushing. They’d have to explore that. Not tonight, but sometime soon. He pulled back, let his hand wander over her chest, across her breast and torso until landing at her hip where he patted her ass.

  “Watch your head when you get in.”

  At that, she smiled, a lusty mix of grateful and seductive.

  “You’re slowly killing me, you know.”

  “Ditto that. It’s shaping up to be a wild ride.”

  * * *

  Matt checked his watch. “Thirty-nine minutes.” He swirled one finger. “Wrap this shit up.”

  Across from him at his kitchen table, Taylor shoved her half-eaten soup aside and spread three file folders in front of her. One contained her list of birthing center employees, the other of people who owned silver pickups and the final her most recent notes on the case.

  “Oh, come on!” she said. “We’re not even halfway through the list. You can’t be serious with that forty minute time limit.”

  “Honey, I’m as serious as a heart attack.” He grinned. “Or a parking garage attack.”

  Because, yeah, he was the guy sitting across from her watching the bump on her forehead grow and that bruise expand. She was definitely going to have a black eye. She needed rest and pouring over case files wouldn’t do it. Still, he understood her drive, her need to find Baby Jarvis.

  If she was scared from the attack, from her home being violated and her person being assaulted, she wasn’t showing it.

  Except by throwing herself even more into her work.

  Damn, the woman tripped him up. He sat back, let his shoulders press against the ladder-back chair and folded his arms across his chest. With Taylor, he needed to present a calm, yet definitive demeanor. Otherwise, she’d own him.

  And that wasn’t happening.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said. “You go to bed and I’ll work on the files. That’s my final offer.”

  “Puh-lease. That’s your only offer. What kind of negotiation is this?”

  “It’s not. That’s my point.” Shoving his chair back, he stood. Was it lame that he was assuming a power position by standing over her? Absolutely. Taylor was stubborn—bullheaded even—and he’d use any tactic necessary to make sure she got some rest. “Leave the folders. I’ll deal with them.”

  Working on a theory of momentum, he cornered the table, eased her chair back, clasped her elbow and guided her to her feet. For once, she didn’t argue, but that may have been a fatigue-induced lucky break.

  “Five more minutes,” she countered.

  “My house. My rules. You’re going to bed.”

  Determined not to think about her in his bed without him, he led her down the hallway, flipped on the bedroom light, grabbed her one of his T-shirts to sleep in, and pointed to the bathroom. “Go change. I’ll get the bed ready.”

  “Matt, I can put myself to bed.”

  “I know, but…”

  “What?”

  He shrugged. “I like helping you get ready for bed.”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, her eyes hot on his. “I’m totally doing you.”

  “Which is why I will sleep on the couch.”

  She whipped the T-shirt from his hand and spun away. “We’ll see about that.”

  In the five minutes it took Taylor to do her thing in the bathroom, he turned down the bed and changed into basketball shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. Later, he’d ditch it all because he turned into a furnace when he slept and any clothing on h
is body made him seriously uncomfortable.

  Across the hall, the bathroom door opened and Taylor stepped out wearing only the T-shirt that dropped to mid-thigh on her much shorter body. He dragged his eyes over her long, shapely legs.

  Stay strong.

  If he let her, she’d easily talk him into a quickie. Which wouldn’t be bad. Except, one quickie led to another and four hours later, they’d both be without sleep. In her current condition, he couldn’t let that happen.

  She sauntered by him, swinging that amazing ass and dropping a kiss on him as she went.

  “Come to bed, Mad Dog. It’ll do us both some good.”

  “No.”

  She made snoring noises.

  Snoring noises? Really?

  After fluffing the pillows, she sat on the edge of the bed. And lifted the T-shirt over her head, tossing it at him as his eyes fixed on her tits like locked-on radar. Her nipples poked out from the sudden cold and Matt couldn’t stop looking. He stood there like a horny teenager getting his first peek at Playboy, his mouth literally watering and his dick hardening. She was so damned beautiful and all he wanted, constantly, from the first time he’d put eyes on her, was to touch her. Everywhere.

  Now was no exception.

  “You,” he said, “don’t play fair.”

  “You’ve just figured that out? Come to bed. Make me happy. I’m begging you.”

  Begging. Jesus, she was a master at this. At getting what she wanted. The seduction. If it was even that. This right here? This was her putting it out there in typical aggressive Taylor style and, guess what? He didn’t want it.

  Not the sex. He always wanted that. With Taylor. What he didn’t want was being her target. Being some random man on top of her, under her, behind her, ramming himself into her so she could forget her problems.

  “No.”

  She let out a hard huff, grabbed the covers and whipped them over her as she rolled to her side. With her back to him. “Fine. You’re right. It’s been a rough night. I need some sleep. Don’t mind me, I’m just the woman who threw myself at you.”

  “What?”

  She roared to a sitting position again, ran both hands through her long hair and wrapped them around her skull. “Matt!”

  What the hell was this about? “You’re pissed now? Because I want to take care of you? You’ve got to be kidding me.”