Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) (10 page)

“I’m fine. Come in.” She motioned him in, but held her arm up before baby Napoleon and Jordan could enter. “Just Tony. I need a minute.”

She closed the door behind him, plastered on a cheery smile. “Welcome to my madness.”

“Tough crowd.”

“Thank you for clearing them out of here. My dad is—” She hesitated, looked up at the ceiling then met his eyes again. “Having a slight breakdown.”

“Understandable.”

“Heather was the good one. His favorite. The daughter he was proud of.”

Un-hunh. What the hell was he supposed to do with that one? Because seriously, he didn’t get it. He had four sisters and sure there were times when his mother liked one of all five of her children better than the other. None of them were perfect, but each of them, in their own twisted way had moments of perfect.

His mother saw all of those moments.

“You know,” he said, “I gotta say, I don’t get that. You’ve built a business, a
tough
business in a town that will eat someone alive if they screw up.”

“She was a senator.”

“Oh, right, because senators are the epitome of perfection. They own the high moral ground. Please. Honey, you wouldn’t have a job if senators didn’t fuck up. From where I’m standing, it sucks that the people around you—people who are supposed to love you—get in your face about crap they shouldn’t be getting in your face about. You’re going through something here and all they can do is yell at you? I don’t get that. But hey, that’s probably just me.”

“Oh, snap.”

“What?”

She grabbed the front of his jacket and yanked him forward, her gaze glued to his lips and—hell—his boss wouldn’t like this much.

She kissed him.

An all-out assault of lips and tongue that instantly made him hard. Because, yes, folks, he was a man and when a beautiful, accomplished woman damn near climbed on him, he responded.

Sue me.

He wrapped his arms around her, hauled her up on her toes and gave as good as he got, matching her, stroke for stroke, with his tongue. She looped her arms around his neck and arched into him, her toned body curving into his. Damn, that felt good.

No, sir, Grey would not like this. At all. He’d never been one to mix business with pleasure, but right now, pleasure was sure outmanning the business part.

Oops
.

Once again, his uncle’s voice was in his ear, lecturing him on the principles of being a gentleman.

Being a man.

Fallyn was hurting. Vulnerable. He shouldn’t be using that for his own pleasure, but he also wouldn’t be the one to back away and risk her thinking it a rejection. No. He’d enjoy this crazy effing moment and chalk it up to her blowing off some steam.

He pulled her in tighter, let his lips wander along her jaw and worked a soft moan from her.

“This is so not good,” she said.

He laughed. “Was just thinking the same thing.”

“We should stop.”

“Sure should.”

“Is it bad that I don’t want to?”

“You’re asking a guy with an erection the size of Texas?”

Fallyn burst out laughing and the sound ricocheted against the walls of her dead sister’s office and that fast, it was over, the supremely excellent energy of that kiss, gone. Still laughing, she rested her forehead against his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“No,” he said. “Thank
you
.” Time for a little levity. “Because now I get to walk out of a senate office building at full salute.”

Again she laughed. “Oh, my God. You’re such a pig. But, truly, you saved me from a major meltdown.”

“Glad I could help.”

“You did more than that. No one ever takes my side. Everyone piles on. Normally, I can handle it. It’s like some weird form of entertainment to them and they love to watch me struggle. I don’t like to give them that satisfaction, but today…Well, today, you gave me exactly what I needed. Support.”

“Well, sweetheart, I think it’s time they stop piling all their shit on you.”

She stared up at him, her sad eyes a little brighter. “Yes. I think you’re right.” She tugged on the lapels of his jacket and stepped back. “Now, before the cops catch up with me to relieve me of Heather’s meds, we need to send a few of those pills to a lab for testing. I want to get ahead of this before the press gets hold of it.”

* * *

Fallyn felt like her world was spinning off its axis. She’d lost her twin, and now she suspected Heather might have been murdered.

The panic started low in her stomach the moment her dad had called. Carl and Jordan had been yelling at her, her father had been yelling at her, and all she wanted to do was put down the phone, lock the doors, and cry.

Fallyn Pasche did not cry, by God. Ever.

Thank the universe, the feeling passed quickly. She was back in fighting form within seconds because of Tony Gerard.

Tony had been there, ushering Carl and Jordan out, giving her a moment to speak to her father in private. A familiar calm had settled over her. Work the case, she’d reminded herself, even while her father was reading her the riot act.

Heather is my client. Everyone else can go to hell.

Tony’s encouragement, his resolute support when she’d been close to a meltdown, had brought the fragmented pieces of her brain and emotions back to center. She’d been so relieved, so surprised at his unwavering help, that she’d lost her mind and kissed him.

So
not
the proper response to finding out my twin may have been murdered.

Which brought her back to the gnawing panic under her skin. There was more in Heather’s office she needed to look through, but Detective Hollister had called for the third time and she couldn’t blow him off much longer. The U.S. Capitol Police had called him and were now working with him. She should expect a call from them as well.

So far, the CSI techs had found no fingerprints that didn’t belong in Heather’s townhouse. Heather’s, Eric’s, Fallyn’s, Jordan’s, and Carl’s. A bunch of others’, but duh, there had been dozens of people at the townhouse the previous day. Dozens, including other Congressmen and women. Even the president.

Hollister had spoken to Heather’s doctors and the pharmacy tech where the prescriptions on record had been filled. Nothing seemed remiss. The next step, he’d told her was to send the prescription bottles from Heather’s place to a lab for analysis.

Fallyn had the bottles in her purse. As Tony drove across town to the Metro precinct, she snuck one pill out of each bottle and snapped a picture of the pill and the prescription label on the outside before dropping the pill bottles into a plastic baggie. The detective hadn’t mentioned vitamins and supplements and Fallyn hadn’t volunteered that information. Once Det. Hollister spoke to Jordan, he’d no doubt find out about Heather’s health nut status, but by then, the vitamins would all be at a private lab Grey had on speed dial.

“You’re quiet,” Tony said as he hooked a left and dodged the insanity known as DC traffic.

“Are you complaining?”

He smirked, his mouth lifting into a sexy little tilt. Oh, the man had a way about him.

“Nope. But when a woman like you is quiet, it’s not necessarily safe for the rest of us.”

“Ha!”

“What’s up? What are you gnawing on?”

“Aside from my dead sister?”

Tony jerked one shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. There has to be something somewhere that’ll give us a lead. I know everyone thought she was perfect, but you know as well as I do, the perfect ones have the biggest secrets.”

Fallyn sat a little straighter, swiveled her head to Tony. Sensing the energy change, he glanced over. “What?”

“Miss Perfect.”

“What about her?”

Fallyn waggled her hand. “Oh, my God. I can’t believe I didn’t think about this. Last year there was a bill. It was approved by the House and sent to the Senate. Big brouhaha.”

“Which bill?”

“The one about the military pay scales.”

Eyes still on the road, Tony pursed his lips. “Yeah. Got it. Didn’t pass, right?”

“Correct. My sister was the swing vote.”

He glanced at her, his dark eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, but his eyebrows had hitched up before he turned back to the road. “No shit?”

“No, shit, big guy. She voted no and the military families nearly lynched her.”

“I can see why.”

“What the media failed to report was why she voted against it. The buried language in that bill allowed for billions to be sent to troops in foreign countries. Oh, Pakistan, you need a tank? We’ll give you five million dollars, compliments of the United States taxpayers. She got slaughtered in the press and time and time again she argued that she wanted that language removed. She wanted the bill to be about supporting
our
military. Not someone else’s.”

“Let me guess, nobody heard that part.”

“Hell no. Not at first. It was a perfect storm. The squeaky clean junior senator from Maryland disses US military families. The pundits chewed the flesh off her bones. I begged her to let me help, but she wouldn’t do it. As she put it, she didn’t want to go negative.
Please
.”

Even now, months later, the frustration bubbled up, clawed at Fallyn. That fiasco could have been nipped so easily. One expertly placed sound bite on a radio show where the host owed her a favor and—boom—problem solved. But, no. Heather wanted to let it die down on it’s own. As if.

“I remember it now. The Chief Justice griped about it one day.”

“Everyone was griping.” Fallyn twisted in her seat, poked a finger. “She got death threats from that cluster. I mean think about all the struggling veterans in this country. And, my cute sister in her cushy townhouse and sixty-thousand dollar car rejects a bill that’ll help military families. Eventually, the roar faded, and the sane people who did listen to her trumped the rest, but who knows? There are lunatics out there.” She dug in her purse, pulled out her notepad. “We need to check her emails and ask Jordan if there’ve been any other death threats.”

“It’s worth checking out.”

“Bet your butt it is.” She twirled her pen. “Let’s get Grey on this. And David Teeg. See what they come up with.”

Was she impeding an investigation? Since nothing formal had been declared yet, she was running with her gut. Metro assured her that they and Capitol Police were only “looking into” the preponderance of the drug in Heather’s system and that bought Fallyn time. Time to find out what was on that tablet and what role it played in all of this. Was the person who’d broken into the townhouse looking for the tablet or something like the Perisoladol? Had they planted it there and came back to retrieve it? If so, they’d have had plenty of time to take it after Fallyn had been knocked out.

Which meant there might not be any evidence in the bottles she had in a giant Ziplock in the backseat, but she didn’t care. She’d even swiped the protein powder and breakfast nutrition bars from the cabinet. She was sending them all to Grey’s lab right after she ‘complied’ with Det. Hollister’s wishes.

When they arrived to talk to Hollister, Metro PD was the epitome of chaos. There had been a major accident on the 395 and a gunman with a hostage at some convenience store clear across town still hadn’t given up. Phones were ringing, people were yelling, perps and witnesses were piling up everywhere Fallyn looked.

And I thought Pasche & Associates got crazy sometimes
.

With a flash of his Supreme Court badge, Tony guided her through the main reception area, thick with fluorescent lighting and grimy floors. They passed through the metal detector, went down a hallway, and took an elevator to the third floor where Tony navigated her toward a sign that read Homicide.

He seemed to know his way around the precinct well, deftly maneuvering her around a drunk shouting about his right to a phone call.

The whole place smelled like body odor and pepperoni pizza, which was not a charming scent when her stomach was so empty and churning.

At the detective unit, Tony knew the man behind the desk. He asked for Det. Hollister but Hollister had been called out on a homicide.

Homicide
. Fallyn wondered if Heather’s death would soon be labeled with the same cold term.

Tony noticed her swaying slightly—did anything escape his eagle eyes?—and took the bag with the prescription bottles from her hand. “Hollister needs this,” he told the desk sergeant. “We can’t wait for him to get back.”

The man gave Tony some papers to fill out, then said to her, “Hey, ain’t you the senator’s twin? The one who died? I seen you on TV. Real sorry about your sister.”

“Thank you,” Fallyn said, pasting on a fake smile. Even after all the condolences, she still didn’t know what to say.

The fake smile lasted until she and Tony were back in his Explorer, heading for parts unknown.

“You need to eat,” he said, and she was too tired, too wrung out to argue.

A few minutes later, she was surprised to find her stomach actually appreciated the double cheeseburger and fries that Tony placed in her lap from a drive-thru. He didn’t talk as they sped out of the city and she stuffed her face with greasy, but delicious food. During her meal on the run, a detective from the Capitol Police finally caught up with her, asking the same questions and spewing the same rhetoric as Detective Hollister.