Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (21 page)

“I’m not ready for this.”

He smiled down at her, his gaze on her tits as he dragged his hand up and across her collarbone, into her hair. He threaded his fingers through the thickness and then, with a sudden violence that made her eyes water, he gripped a handful and yanked her head backward.

Pain ripped into her, searing down her neck. “Ahmed, you’re hurting me.”

She made a move to stand, but he pushed her into the chair with his free arm. The veils slid down his arm and gathered at his wrist.

You’re hurting me…

Goddammit. Grey was going to come unglued. First, the bastard had tricked Syd into showing up for dinner. Now he was going to rape her. Maybe kill her.

Not on my watch.

Killing her at his home went against The Lion’s MO, but fuck profiling and the code word and the goddamn system. All bets were off and had been the minute Syd found Ahmed rather than Nabil waiting for her. Why hadn’t she listened to him when he told her to pull the plug?

Grey started his car as he checked his side view mirror for traffic.

What met his eyes was a man in a light gray suit. Donaldson was on the other side of Grey’s window, knocking a finger against the glass. His voice came through muffled. “Going somewhere?”

The sidewalk was on one side, Donaldson on the other, parked cars in front and back. Hell of a time to be stuck.

“Move,” Grey shouted, waving him off.

Like usual, Donaldson put his hands on his waistline, brushing back his jacket to show off his bulging middle and his gun. “Not until we talk.”

Grey’s nerves, taut as a violin string, threatened to break. He jammed his finger in the automatic window button. Yelled at Donaldson before the window was fully open, “Not now. I have to get to Sydney.”

“Sydney? That piece of ass you’re using for this entrapment scheme? How is that going by the way? You’ve been avoiding my calls. Again.”

“She’s about to get raped by our target. Get the fuck out of my way.”

Donaldson settled his hands on the open window frame and leaned down so his face filled Grey’s field of vision. “You really think I’d believe you left this woman alone with The Lion? With your history? Forget it. The noble Justice Greystone would never.” He scoffed. “We need to talk and we need to do it now. Stop blowing me off.”

In his ear, Grey heard Ahmed’s voice, faint but no less damning. “
Do you like when a man is rough, Cindy? When he pounds into your body? Do you see his need when he does that? How much he wants you?”

Sweat broke out along Grey’s hairline and a foul taste filled his mouth. He was going to be sick. He had to get to her.
Now
.

Touching his earpiece to activate his mic, he steeled his voice. “Hang in there, Syd. I’m on my way. Use your gun if you have to.”

“Nice touch.” Donaldson shook his head. “Enough bullshitting. You’re not leaving until you give me something on this guy. Lockhart is climbing my ass.”

Byron Lockhart. Head of the FBI. The man Grey needed to get back in good graces with if he was ever going to see the inside of Quantico again.

Fuck that. Sydney came first. He’d run over Donaldson if necessary, but he understood how his former boss worked.
Give him what he wants
. “You’ll get a full briefing tonight. After I get Syd out.”

Finally, something clicked. Donaldson saw the desperation on Grey’s face. Heard the truth in his voice. “Holy shit. You screwed up again, didn’t you, Greystone? She’s really in danger.”

Syd’s voice came through strong in his ear.
“No, Ahmed. I do not like it rough. I like it slow and patient and gentle.”

She’d never get that from the monster, even if she were holding her own. “Use your gun,” he gritted between his teeth. “Shoot him in the balls, in the foot, whatever it takes.”

“No.” Donaldson reached in and tried to grab the earpiece out of Grey’s ear. “Don’t shoot him!”

Grey grabbed Donaldson’s hands, bent his fingers backwards, increasing the pressure until the man’s knees threatened to give out. With his other hand, he repositioned his earbud. “What the hell are you doing?”

The man reeled back, but being the tenacious son-of-a-bitch that he was, he grabbed hold of Grey’s jacket lapel. “Don’t you dare let her blow this case because she’s got cold feet.”

“Cold feet? Are you nuts? He’s going to rape her.”

“Ahmed? What are you doing?”

“There are other ways to please me.”

Shit. Grey brought his arm down across Donaldson’s hands, breaking the man’s hold on his jacket. “Get the fuck out of the way.”

“Such a fucking screw-up, Greystone.” The man wiped blood from his nose. “I never should have given you this case.”

“Touch yourself,”
Ahmed said.
“You disgusting whore.”

Grey withdrew his Glock and aimed it at Donaldson’s face. There was no going back now. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have. Move or I
will
blow this entire goddamn case out of the water. For good. You’ll never catch The Lion. Never get that promotion you want.”

The Special Agent in Charge seemed to know Grey wasn’t kidding. Still, he took his sweet time stepping backwards just far enough to allow Grey to maneuver from the tight parking spot. Grey jammed the car into gear, revved the motor, and shot out onto the street.

Behind him, Donaldson yelled at Grey to go to hell.

I’m already there.

Ahead of him, traffic was at a standstill. Sirens blared in the distance.

“What the hell?” Grey pounded his hands on the steering wheel.

In the middle of the intersection he had to cross to get to Sydney and the brownstone, four cars sat in a pileup.

“Syd?” Fed Boy said in her ear.

And God, why was he talking right now? She hadn’t said the code word and she didn’t need him inside her head, literally, when she was trying to get herself out of this.

With another good yank on her hair, Ahmed drew her face to his crotch, her closed mouth pressing against the cotton of his briefs. His erection strained for release and he pushed himself against her. The clean scent of laundry detergent—or maybe his soap—filled her nostrils and she held her breath.
God, help me.
The lamb inched further up her throat. Maybe she’d vomit on him and save herself.

Line them up and shoot their peckers off.

Tears shot down her face, but she refused to wipe them away. She needed her hands for other things.

Slowly, she slipped her hand into the slit in her dress.

Ahmed went into his litany again. “Oh, yes. Touch yourself. Play with yourself. Make yourself come before I take you, whore.”

Syd’s mind flashed to Number Seven who, on a weekly basis, reminded her what a whore she was. And now, this animal thought he could rape her. Thought it was somehow okay because he’d paid for her time and attention.

She slid her fingers along her thigh to the strap, searching for what she needed. Her index finger brushed the cool handle of her .22—the one Fed Boy insisted she strap to her body rather than store in her purse—and ripped it out of the holster.

Line them up and shoot their peckers off.

“Shoot him, Syd.” Was that Grey or her own survival instincts talking? Either way, it was a good idea.

In an instant, with all the force she could muster, she dug the pee-shooter into The Lion’s crotch, just next to where he held her mouth against his erection. “Let me go or I put a bullet in your dick.”

The room went eerily silent. Only the sound of The Lion’s sharp intake of air sounded. Still, he gripped her hair. Waiting…

She jammed the gun harder into his crotch. “I’ve got nothing to lose, Ahmed. According to you, I’m a disgusting whore. Right now, I’m a disgusting whore about to spark an international incident. Your choice.”

Please, make the right choice.
Without a doubt, she’d shoot him. Some things were ingrained. Instincts, survival tactics, intuition, whatever. Thanks to her battered mother, Syd had them all and never would the day come where she’d allow a man to make her a victim.

The Lion released her hair and flung his hand away, somehow making it a dramatic show.

Guess he likes his pecker.

Holding the gun in place, she inched away. “Now back up. No sudden movements.”

“Get out of there,” Grey said. “I’m just around the corner. I’ll be there in seconds.”

Once The Lion had moved a few feet from her, she stood and scooted sideways. The veils on the floor brushed against her open-toed strappy heels, their silky feel reminding her of the terror this man wanted to inflict.

Such a damned shame. Slowly, still holding the gun on The Lion, she reached down and scooped up the veils. One slipped free, but she let it go. She wouldn’t need it.

“Thank you for the gift.” She pointed the gun toward the door with the ornate lever. “Step to that door.”

The Lion hesitated and she pointed the gun at his crotch. “It’s only a .22 but I’d bet it hurts like a son of a bitch when one of those little bullets rips into your penis. Particularly a hard one.”

For the fun of it, she grinned.

The Lion stood by the door and she got close enough to toss him one of the veils. The bright pink one. “Tie your hand to that lever. Double knot.”

It wouldn’t hold him long. He’d just untie himself. It would keep him busy for a minute or two, and that was all she needed.

He fumbled the veil, but managed to put one end in his mouth to tie off the knot. “I can just untie this, stupid whore.”

After all the years of dealing with Number Seven, Syd was tired of being called a whore. She aimed the pistol at the pristine wood floor, Brazilian Oak maybe, three-inch planks—just gorgeous—and squeezed off a shot to the right of The Lion’s foot.

He yelped.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

His nostrils flared with contempt. “You will pay.”

She smiled, finally feeling the beautiful surge of power. “Oh, Ahmed. I keep telling you I have nothing to lose. You’re the big shot. And I could crush you. So, from now on, when we see each other, you will be nice. Understand?”

His top lip shook and he swung his free arm at her.

She squeezed off another round. This one into the door above his head.

“Cease!”

“Syd!” This from Fed Boy who must be in the midst of a coronary by now. He wasn’t the only one.

“I’m leaving now,” she said to both men.

“Go!” The Lion yelled. “You’ll pay!”

“Get the hell out of there,” Grey yelled.

The gun still pointed at The Lion, Syd backed out of the room and realized she still held the blue veil in her free hand. She’d take it. A constant reminder of how wrong she was and why she needed to get this lunatic locked up. “Sorry about the bullet holes. And thanks for the gift.”

Chapter Seventeen

Idiot. He was an idiot.

Grey maneuvered the Challenger onto the sidewalk and nearly ran over two pedestrians before skirting the accident and yanking the car back onto the street. The sun had set hours ago and streetlights cast an eerie pall over the car wreck. He rounded the corner, cutting across the pedestrian crosswalk, and there she was, running down the sidewalk in her bare feet, shoes and purse in hand, the fancy dress flapping around her legs at the slit.

His gut churned. He knew it had been far too dangerous to let her go alone into The Lion’s house, even under the pretense of having dinner with Nabil. Thank God, he’d made her take her gun.

He slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street, getting a round of horns from cars behind him. Fuck ’em. His only concern was rescuing his partner.

Her head was down, eyes on the sidewalk. He honked, shoved the gearshift into park, and jumped out of the car. They were out of sight from the brownstone, so he didn’t worry about The Lion seeing them. Didn’t really care if the bastard did. “Over here,” he called.

At the sound of his voice, her head came up and her eyes zoomed in on him. Haunted. Even in the shadowy street, he could see how haunted she was by what had just occurred.

Three running strides and she slid into the Challenger. He did the same, jamming the shifter into drive, and letting his attention discreetly slide over Syd’s body from head to toe. Her body language screamed
back off
but she appeared okay. Physically, anyway.

He didn’t speak. The look on her face, the stiff posture told him everything he needed to know. She needed time to process what had happened and the last thing she wanted from him was a lecture. He’d let her down.
Just like Molly
.

Goddamn
, it was hard not to ask her if she was okay. Not to reach over and touch her. Not to beg her to look at him.

He didn’t do any of those things. He just drove, taking a left instead of the right that would have led him to her apartment.

Sometime later, as they crossed into West Virginia, Syd sunk low in her seat and rolled down the window. Cool September air rushed in, blowing her hair into tangled webs. The tension in her body lessened but she still clutched a piece of fabric in her left hand. Her right hand snuck out the window and floated on the air currents. The smallest of smiles lifted her lips.

The woman liked speed, liked the feel of the wind. Grey shoved his foot into the gas pedal and pushed the Challenger’s speedometer to a hundred, heading northwest on the Custis Memorial Parkway. Giving Syd quiet, the only thing he could right then.

Let her speak first
.
Let her take control, even if it’s only with the conversation.

His mouth didn’t want to obey, so he clamped his jaw tight and focused his internal angst on imagining all the ways he could torture Ahmed Khourey.

All the ways he could kill the man.

A bullet to the head was the most efficient. He could slip into the townhouse later that night and...

Nah
, the soldier in him said.
Too damn easy
. The Lion needed to pay with blood, sweat, and tears.