Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (16 page)

A damned serial killer.

Nope.
Sorry, Fed Boy.

She stepped to the mirror, grabbed one of the soft disposable towels with the Panthera Leo’s golden lion mascot printed on them. Such finery for the big shots. Turning on the faucet, she soaked the towel and squeezed the excess from it before dabbing at her neck. She would have liked to pat her face, but—well—the make-up. She held the towel to the base of her neck, let the moisture cool her frying nerves.

Grey will kill me if I go in there
.

She stared at herself in the mirror. “He’ll kill you,” she whispered.

But if it saved Jennifer, she’d live with it.

She tossed the wet towel in the garbage, freshened her lipstick, and decided it was time to show The Lion what she was made of.

Slowly, she pulled open the bathroom door. No Fed Boy in the hallway. Perfect. In three long strides, she stood at the library door just across the hall. She grabbed the ornate gold door lever and stopped.

Why?

Why would she be going in there?

New girl. Thought it was the bathroom. Got the wrong door. She glanced back, saw the open bathroom door, and closed it in case anyone checked her story.

She grabbed the library door’s handle again, took one last fortifying breath, plastered a smile on her face, and swung into the room.

Her gaze shot to the side wall where a floor to ceiling bookcase was stuffed with books. A gasp sounded and she turned toward it.

Dear God.

The Lion sat on the antique-looking sofa, his pants around his ankles and Jennifer straddling him. Her head was thrown back and—oddly—her face had the relaxed look of a woman enjoying a sexual encounter. Maybe Syd had this wrong and Jennifer found pleasure in this man. In his touch and his attention. Syd could see how a woman would be drawn to him, the power, the charm, the self-confidence, all of it made a nice package. Fierce heat shot to her cheeks just as The Lion swung his head in her direction.

Caught.

“Excuse me!” Syd said, her shrill voice feigning horror. “I thought this was the bathroom.”

Jennifer squeaked, but The Lion touched her face, stroked it. “Sshh, it’s all right.”

“Where the fuck are you?” Fed Boy said in her ear.

Game over. In three seconds, he’d be here.

“Get out!” Jennifer shrieked.

And then fingers dug into Syd’s arm, the pressure on her flesh snapping her out of her confusion before she was yanked backward into the hallway. She landed against the opposite wall, losing her balance on the damned spiked heels.

In front of her stood Grey, his face pinched so tight she thought the lightest touch would shatter it.

Pissed. Royally, insanely pissed.

Grey released her arm and stepped back. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t blow his cover by reprimanding her here, but boy, oh, boy she’d get it later.

He stood tall, straightened his jacket. “Miss, if the library door is closed, you must stay out. Do you
understand
?”

“I’m sorry. I thought it was the bathroom. I’m new here.”

“Well, now you know. Please return to the party.”

Two agonizing hours later, Syd nearly crawled into the limo that would usher the escorts home. Her feet and back ached and worse, the night wasn’t over. As sure as she was sitting in this car, she knew Fed Boy would be hunting her down to inflict one of his brutal lectures.

Jennifer slid into the limo beside Syd and smiled, all white teeth and dreamy eyes, at the driver. Once the door was closed, she whirled on Syd.

“What were you doing walking in there? You had to know I was in there with him.”

“I got the doors mixed up. I thought it was the bathroom.”

Jennifer huffed, then faced front again. “Well, you were wrong. Remember, when the door is closed, it means someone wants to get naked. You need to stay out of there.”

Yeah, nice try. “Sorry. I screwed up.”

“You sure did. And you almost got yourself into that little party.” Jennifer raised the glass separating them from the driver. “He loves a three-way. Makes me crazy because—seriously, he’s amazing—and I’d rather keep him for myself.”

Vomit backed up into Syd’s throat and she bobbed her head. “Got it.”

“No, I’m not sure you do.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Jennifer pushed her hair away from her shoulders then rested her head back. “No. With him, it’s easy. He makes it good.”

“But you didn’t have to have sex with him, right?”

Jennifer snorted. “Cindy, you need to get with the program. Sooner or later, you’re gonna need to give it up.”

Oh, no I won’t.

“Sure,” Jennifer continued, “I’ve dealt with my share of bite marks and sore muscles, but this is what these pervs pay for. You get used to it. At least with Ahmed he doesn’t hurt. He may like it rough every now and again, but he doesn’t hurt.”

“But you could get out, right? If you wanted to.”

She shrugged. “Why would I want to? I live in a condo overlooking the Potomac. Every shoe I own is designer. This is the life I want and if putting up with the pervs gets me there, you can be sure I’ll do it.”

Syd shook her head. “I don’t understand that. Is the money worth it?”

Finally, Jennifer turned to her and their gazes locked for three long seconds. “Yes. It’s worth it. A few more years of this and I’ll be set for life. That’s what I’m holding out for.”

Unless she got killed in the process. Stupid woman. “I don’t see how putting yourself in that kind of danger makes it worthwhile. No amount of money is worth that.”

Believe me, I know.

“Then what are you doing here?” Jennifer asked.

Syd would have liked to tell her she was trying to save her ass, but that would really send Fed Boy to the looney bin. Hell, maybe he could be neighbors with her mother and she could visit both of them on Saturdays.

She shook off the nastiness of that thought. “So, you’re just going to keep doing what you’re doing? Letting these men hurt you if they feel like it?”

“They don’t all hurt. Just a few. Those are the ones who pay big, though. I’m used to it.”

Used to it? Syd shook her head and stared out the window. This misled woman allowed herself to be used by these men. For money.

And who was Syd to tell her she couldn’t do that? Legalities aside, what right did she have to tell another woman how to live her life? Or how to achieve her independence.

Maybe she and Jennifer weren’t so different. They were both women who supported themselves rather than relying on a man to do it.

Didn’t that just scare the hell out of her.

Jesus, he was losing it. Cracking up.

His head pounded. His throat was tight. Gripping the edge of Sydney’s kitchen countertop, Grey wanted to rip the damn thing out.

Sydney. She’d nearly blown everything. The mission, his cover, her own safety.

Yes, she was smart and tough and fearless. She was also reckless, running on self-righteous indignation and her own sense of right and wrong.

He’d done that for years and look what it had gotten him.

But he was a trained agent, an ex-soldier. If the mission went critical, or his life was in danger, he could handle it.

If anything happened to Sydney…

His heart thumped like a bass drum, pressing up into his throat and cutting off his air. He felt like he was walking on a high wire during a hurricane. Any second he’d tumble off and Sydney would get hurt. Or worse, die at the hands of a killer.

History repeating itself
, the damned voice inside his head added.

Jesus.

Leaning over the sink in the dark, he tried to calm his emotions, to expand his lungs. Control. He had to control his emotions.

Sydney isn’t Molly.

His sister’s face swam into his vision. So young. So innocent.

So dead because of him. Because of his inability to protect her from a predator.

Grey hit the countertop with a fist, making the coffee pot jump and a dirty plate in the sink clatter.
I’m so sorry, Molly. I won’t let my guard down again. I swear.

“Grey?”

He wheeled around, saw Sydney standing in the doorway. She flipped the wall switch, flooding the kitchen with light. Her eyes had shadows under them, her lips were pinched.

A hell of a night for both of them.

Facing the sink again, he ignored the defensive look in her eyes. She might be wrung out from her hours at the Panthera, but she was obviously ready to argue him into the ground for his reluctance to interfere with The Lion and Jennifer. For his riding her to maintain her cover. For his refusal to let her go off script, even though she’d chucked his carefully crafted script into the garbage the moment she walked into the place.

Grey didn’t want to argue with her. Strangle her? Yes. Hug her to him and never let her go? Yes. But, argue? They were two trains about to collide and the result would be a tangle of hurt feelings and destroyed trust. He could never explain the crazy-assed emotions rolling through him, fucking over his mind and making him mute. Couldn’t even sort out and explain them to himself. How could he possibly explain what he was feeling to Sydney? A woman who trusted no one.

The shrinks had tried to convince him that Molly’s death wasn’t his fault. Pointless exercise, that. It
was
his fault and he could never make up for walking out on the patio that day to take the call from JSOC. Could never take back the fact he’d welcomed a predator into his house, against his old man’s wishes, and turned his back on the bastard.

“I know you’re pissed.” Sydney tossed her purse—a tiny silvery thing that matched her heels—on the small table and shrugged off her jacket. “I didn’t follow your plan and blah, blah, blah, but I’m not apologizing. What was I supposed to do? Look the other way? You’re convinced this guy is a murderer and you’ve got me all crazy with thinking Jennifer could be the next woman on his radar. Well, you were probably listening, but here’s some breaking news for you; he’s a decent guy and treats her well. He doesn’t abuse her like some of the others. She actually enjoys him. And I walked in because you have me all churned up. You need to stop, dammit! I don’t know what I’m doing. All I have are my instincts and you can’t expect me not to intervene if I think someone is in danger. And this time, I was wrong. I’ll admit that, but it’s partially your fault because of this obsession you have with
The Lion
.”

Knowing he’d lose the thin control he had on his emotions if he so much as grunted, Grey clamped his teeth together and stared out the window into the dark night.

She brushed by him to grab a glass out of the cabinet, then filled it with orange juice from the fridge. “You were blathering in my ear, that Jordanian diplomat was grabbing my ass and The Lion was ignoring me and going after Jennifer. I had to do something to make sure she was okay and you were no help at all. I told you I’d try to do things your way, but I have to trust my intuition. Sacrificing an innocent woman to keep from blowing my cover is out of the question. I won’t do it.”

He gripped the edge of the counter, ground his teeth.

Leaning a hip against the counter on his left, her gaze bored into him. She sipped her juice. “You’ll be happy to know Jennifer isn’t interested in my help. She likes the money enough to let these men get rough and demean her.”

Her perfume teased his nostrils and he wanted to pull it into his lungs, but he still couldn’t draw a deep breath. This was his fault. He’d wanted a renegade like himself to work this mission and now he was paying the price.

“Grey?”

Knowing it was a bad idea, he glanced at her. Confusion knit her brows as she searched his face. “Are you sick or something?”

His roiling stomach and throbbing head certainly fit the sick ticket. But he couldn’t hide behind lame excuses for what he was feeling.

He also couldn’t untie his tongue to answer her. The system wasn’t working. Not for him, not for her. He had two choices: pull the plug or break down the system and rebuild it.

Logic reasoned that they were closer to The Lion than any law enforcement had ever been. Tweaking the system was all that was needed.

His gut rejected the thought.
Sydney’s in danger
.

She’d been in danger since the beginning, but now it was personal. He cared too much for her, no matter what arguments he told Monroe or his stupid heart.

Sydney wasn’t one to be ignored. She touched his arm, gripping it and forcing him to turn toward her. “What the hell is wrong with you? You haven’t said squat since I came home.”

If she’d just touched him, he would have been gone, total putty in her hands. The irritated annoyance in her tone, though, sent his anger spiking all over again.

Jerking his arm out of her hold, he stepped back, his voice low and husky from the control he was trying to maintain. “What the hell is wrong with
me
?”

She blanched, whether from the look on his face or the dangerous edge to his voice, he wasn’t sure. Instead of turning away again, he advanced on her, towering over her even in her heels. “What the hell is wrong with
me
? I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me. I picked a woman who wants to save the whole goddamned world to be my partner on this black op mission and she’s determined to throw herself into the flames of hell no matter how hard I try to keep her safe.”

Her shields went up the moment he invaded her personal space. Her stormy blue-gray eyes shot missiles at him. “I don’t need saving. I told you that before and I’ll keep telling you that until you finally stop with the knight-in-shining-armor crap. I was doing just fine before you showed up with this stupid mission and I’ll be just fine when you pack up your flashy suited ass and leave. You picked me for a reason, and if you want my help, then deal, but don’t you dare tell me to turn my back on a woman who’s being abused.”

He knew better than to touch her, but gripped her upper arms anyway. “I won’t let you jeopardize yourself for someone else.”

“Why? Because I’m female? Because you have some hero complex? You wouldn’t treat Monroe like this, would you?”