Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (12 page)

Adjusting the Burris, he tried to get a better look, but a large group of people moved and jostled for floor space when the president entered. He couldn’t see Sydney or Ahmed.

Dammit. His first instinct was to tell Sydney to get away, make an excuse, go to the ladies room, whatever. As he lowered the scope and started to bark out instructions, Monroe snapped his fingers and glared him down. Made a throat-cutting motion.

Kill the emotions. Don’t blow it.

Monroe was right. He didn’t dare say a word. If Ahmed was that close to Sydney, he just might be able to hear Grey’s voice.

No choice. He had to sit tight and let Sydney handle this. Alone.

Shutting down the emotions that made him want to drop-kick the Burris through the window, he drew a steadying breath and sent Sydney an equal amount of mental strength. He also tapped his communicator and shut down his end of the mic just in case.

Her voice was firm in his ear as she responded to The Lion’s request. “I’d love to talk to you in the library, but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck. My instructions are to stay in the main reception hall until Prince Muhana arrives.” She lowered her voice in a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m new, you see, and my handler told me Muhana should be my main focus tonight. He likes women with long brown hair and a sassy attitude. This being my first assignment—to make sure the prince has first dibs if he’s interested—I don’t want to blow it. You understand, of course?”

Grey could have kissed her. Maybe later he’d do just that. He sat back and cracked a smile, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. Increasing her value by playing The Lion against another Middle Eastern diplomat? Pure brilliance.

Monroe shifted and grinned. “I think I’m in love.”

Me, too
.

“Of course,” Ahmed said. “If nothing else, my dear, I understand the ebb and flow of political chess. I will see you again later.”

Through the scope, Grey watched The Lion move away, slapping backs as he went. Hard to do with the packed crowd and him topping out at five-nine, but he was built like a linebacker and his wide shoulders did a good job of inserting him into the fray.

A second later, Sydney slid into view at the window. She didn’t know where Grey was exactly and she scanned the outside area, now growing dark as the sun set off to the west. Landscape lights blinked to life around the house and down the drive, throwing long shadows on the mansion. “How’d I do?” she murmured softly.

Her voice shook slightly, but a measure of pure steel lay under the slight tremor. Grey tapped his earpiece, opening his mic. “Excellent. A-plus.”

In the window, she smiled and sipped her drink. “Just an aside, but have you looked into The Lion’s son?”

She was so beautiful standing there spotlighted in the window, that red dress reminding him of their previous night on her couch when she’d thrown out that leg bomb and made him stumble over his words. Had any woman ever left him speechless? Not that he could remember. “He’s clean, but I’ll keep an eye on him just for you.”

Another smile lifted her cheeks and she glanced over her shoulder. Her body stiffened slightly and Grey sat straighter, refocused the Burris. “What is it?”

She faced the window again, a look of amusement on her face. “The president just winked at me.” She started giggling. “My God, I think the President of the United States wants to do me.”

Grey took his eye from the scope and dropped his chin to his chest. God help him, he was never going to make it through this night.

Syd wandered through her front door, tossed her keys on the entry table and flipped on the light.

Then she nearly jumped out of her skin.

Fed Boy sat on one of the kitchen chairs he’d dragged into the corner between two windows.

“Jesus! Are you insane? What if I had someone with me?”

“I knew you didn’t. I saw you get into the limo with Jennifer and the others and I kept my earbud mic open so I could hear if there was any gossip among the women. I also checked when I heard the car pull up.”

“And that gives you the right to give me a heart attack? How the hell did you get in here?”

He snorted. “Please. For the record, you need better locks.”

“Ass.”

“Just saying.”

She slid out of the killer stilettos and swept them aside with one foot. “These shoes? The government should use them as torture implements.”

Grey abandoned the crappy kitchen chair and moved to the sofa. He patted the spot next to him. “Have a seat. Bring those babies over here and I’ll rub them.”

Fed Boy was working it. “Do they teach that at Quantico?”

As snarky as she wanted to be, a foot massage after the night she’d had would be heaven. She plopped next to him and swiveled so her feet landed on his lap. Wasting no time, he dug his knuckles into the bottom of her foot and pain shot up her calf. Holy hell, maybe they did teach this at Quantico. “Ow. Ooh. Ow. That hurts. I thought this would be a pleasant experience. Ow!”

“Relax. It gets better in a minute.”

“It’s gonna be a long minute.”

Grey laughed and something inside her sparked. “You’re very handsome when you laugh.”

His knuckles continued to work her over. His stare did the same as he trailed his gaze over her exposed skin up to the hem of her dress. It had inched its way up her thighs, giving him quite a show. She didn’t adjust it—why bother? They both knew what they were doing and the fact that he didn’t look away for a long, heated moment proved it.

“Tell me about The Lion.” He finally raised his attention to her face. “Great work tonight, by the way.”

Syd relaxed into the cushions because yes, indeed, the foot massage had gotten better. “Are you sure you’ve got the right guy? I mean, other than him getting a little handsy around my ass, which, frankly, could have been the guy standing behind me, he was a perfect gentleman all night.”

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s a predator.”

“The predator brought me club sodas all night. And no, I didn’t drink them. The poor plants are well carbonated. His son wasn’t around too much. I lost track of him after the president gave me the “do-me” look.” Syd laughed at herself. Why not? How many women could say they’d been ogled by the President of the United States?

Grey wrapped his hand around her foot and ran his thumb along the bottom. A girl could learn to love this.

“We need The Lion to get in touch with Ian about you. What do you think? Will he make contact?”

She lifted her head and met his stare. “I’d bet on it. He has a look about him. Sort of ferocious in a sexy way. I get why you call him The Lion.”

“He’s dangerous, Syd.”

“Maybe. But I have you. That makes us equal.”

The muscles in Grey’s jaw flexed. “You still need to be careful.”

Syd raised her hand and made puppet movements. “Nag. Nag.” When her cell phone rang she raised her arms. “Saved by the bell. Sit tight and let me grab this.” She scooped the phone off the coffee table. “It’s Ian.”

Grey sat forward, grabbed a notepad from his jacket pocket. “Answer it.”

“Yes, boss.” She pressed the speaker button. “Hi, Ian.”

“Good evening to you, my newest star.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve gotten three calls about you already. Apparently, the mysterious Cindy was a hit tonight.”

She shot Grey a look and he raised his eyebrows. “Really? I only met a few people.”

“That’s how this works, Syd. They like what they see and they call me.”

Smarmy for sure.

“Are you available for another function tomorrow? It’s a small dinner party with the Jordanian Delegation. Ahmed Khourey has requested you attend. He’s important, Syd.”

Grey did a thumbs up.

“I don’t know, Ian.”

Silence.

“Ian?”

“I’m here. Syd, this gig pays three grand. You said you needed money. What’s the problem?”

“The problem is, Ahmed Khourey asked me into the library and old Jennifer tells me the library is where women go to get naked. You told me there was no sex involved.”

“No one is forced into anything. If the girls choose to do more than talk, it’s up to them. It’s not my business.”

As if she believed that. All this time she’d respected Ian for his humanitarianism, when he was simply a pimp building his fortune by exploiting women.
Bastard
.

Syd tapped her fingers against the sofa cushion. “What if I don’t want to get naked?”

“I just told you...”

“I heard you, but what if someone gets handsy and I’m trapped in that library? What’s to keep one of these guys from raping me?”

Once again, silence. Beside her, Grey jotted a note and she read as he wrote.
Ask for security
.

“What kind of security is available for the girls at these parties?”

“Syd.”

She rolled her eyes. “
Ian
.”

He sighed.

“Look, I’m not being an infant. I need the money, but a place like that? All those politicians? If something happens to me, that crew will do whatever necessary to save themselves. Get me some kind of security and I’ll go to the dinner party. That’s the deal.”

“I’ll look into it.”

The line went dead.

She pressed ‘end’, flipped the phone from hand to hand and turned to Grey. “Well, there you go. What now?”

Chapter Eleven

Grey smiled, took out his cell phone and called Donaldson’s private number. “The Smoking Gun needs security for its girls...women…for a dinner party tomorrow night. Get me in. Use my security clearance for the Panthera and work some magic with Ian Goldberg.”

Donaldson grunted. Not a yes, but not a no either. “If you step on toes, Greystone...”

Screw that. “I’m protecting my asset and putting eyes on The Lion. That’s all.”

Another grunt. “If The Smoking Gun or Goldberg goes looking for a security specialist, Jason Black will magically come up on their radar. Best I can do.”

“That’s all I’m asking.”

He disconnected, gave Sydney another smile. “Cross your fingers, partner.”

Ten minutes later, Sydney’s cell phone rang and she scooped it up from the coffee table. The look on her face told him it was the dickweed again.

Grey nodded for her to answer.

“Hi, Ian.”

“I got you security for tomorrow night. Some guy named Jason Black. He works for Front Range Training Institute and does security work for the Panthera—the place you were at last night—on the side. He comes highly recommended by a few of my sources.”

Sydney smiled at Grey, their eyes meeting for a long second. “He’s not a meathead, is he?”

“How the hell should I know? You wanted security. I got you security. Can I tell them you’re in?”

“I’m in. I’ll need another dress though. Your credit card is going to melt.”

“It’ll be worth it. I’ll have a car pick you up at seven tomorrow night.”

“Thank you. Goodnight, sunshine,” Syd cracked and disconnected the call.

Grey held his arms wide. “Am I a meathead? What the hell is that?”

“Just trying to lighten the mood.” She sat back and swung her feet to his lap again. “Where were we?”

He was about to rub more than her feet. Her legs beckoned to him, and it was a good thing they were sitting down because his pants, as usual, were entirely too tight around the groin area. “You were about to tell me one of your deep, dark secrets in exchange for my magic hands doing obscene things to your feet.”

She smiled, but it was forced.
Unnatural
. He had the feeling her secrets were staying buried. He massaged her right foot anyway, focusing on her toes. Her nails were painted a killer red to match her shoes. “When my little sister was three, she stole my mom’s nail polish and painted all her nails. Then she painted a big S on her shirt, climbed to the top of our swing set and yelled, ‘I’m Superman’ right before she jumped. Ended up with a broken wrist. Needless to say, our mother about had a heart attack.”

Sydney relaxed again. “You mean, you weren’t there to nag her about being safe? You didn’t swoop in and catch her?”

Not that time.
Or the next.
The memory turned sour in his stomach. So much for getting Sydney to open up. He’d buried himself instead. “No, I wasn’t there to protect her.”

She didn’t seem to notice the gruffness in his voice and slid down an inch on the couch to lay her head back again. “I used to steal my mother’s nail polish too. Until I got older and she decided she didn’t want me calling attention to myself, saying that bad things happened to girls who did. Nail polish was one of the first things to go.” Sydney waved away the memory with a tired flip of her wrist. “How much older are you than your sister?”

“Five years.”

Her lashes drifted down and she yawned. “Ooh, the older brother. Bet you were on her case all the time about the boys she dated.”

Not enough
. “I was in the army when she started dating. I only saw her when I was home on leave.”
And I didn’t pay enough attention to her damn boyfriend when I was
. “I wish I’d been around more. Wish I’d spent more time with her.”

“You would have just pissed her off. A big brother is better in theory than he is in real life when he’s in your face about every guy that looks at you twice.” Sydney’s eyes closed all the way and her calves melted onto his lap. “She’s lucky to have you looking out for her.”

“Yeah, I don’t think she saw it that way.”

Sydney didn’t catch the past tense, her lips forming a soft, sexy O as he lifted her foot and started working her calf muscle. “I think you missed your calling, Fed Boy. You really do have magic hands.”

Thoughts of his sister vanished as he stared openly at Sydney, her chest rising and falling, her cleavage taunting him. Silence descended, broken only by her occasional soft moans, and once again, Grey’s pants nearly burst at the seams. That low, sexy sound would be his undoing.

A touch of pink flushed her cheeks. He slowed his fingers, working her calf muscle with firm but gentle circles. She took a deep breath, snuggling closer. The hem of her dress rode high on her thighs and he took it all in. The smooth play of her muscles, the flush of her cheeks, the sensuous skin exposed by the deep V of her dress. A hint of black lace peeking out.