Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (18 page)

Nine months ago, he’d sat in this same spot in the cramped confines of a car with Monroe, telling himself it would all be worth it—the endless hours, the gut-rot coffee, Monroe singing along to poke-your-eyeballs-out music on the radio—when they took down a serial killer.

At least this time his partner smelled like strawberries rather than male sweat and gun oil. At least she didn’t listen to hillbilly rock. And she had a great rack and those killer legs.

But she did talk too much.

“You ever shoot anyone, Fed Boy?” She sat low in her seat, watching the townhouse with a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee in hand.

“Yes.”

Her eyes cut to him. “Really?”

He kept the binocs up and his attention on the brownstone. Movement on the third floor caught his eye. Not The Lion. Nabil. “You seem surprised.”

“You kill him or just wound him good?”

“I’ve done both.”

“Both?” Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed she swallowed hard. “How many people have you shot?”

He shrugged.

“Killed?”

“I never counted.”

Except the one that mattered most to his parents. That one he counted. Not for himself or his mom and dad, but for his sister.

“That many? Hunh.” She stewed for a few seconds. It wasn’t every day you sat beside a killer, even if he was one of the good guys. Or had been. Her voice dropped. “What’s it like to kill someone?”

Taking a life, even out of revenge, wasn’t satisfying like they portrayed in movies and on TV. Not for him. Didn’t mean he wouldn’t step up and do his job when called for. But there were always more bad guys, and the guilt from not being able to stop them before they harmed innocent people ate at him no matter how many he’d taken down. “In the army, it was impersonal. In the FBI, just the opposite. I don’t enjoy it under any circumstance, but I will kill if necessary.”

No response. Had he scared her off? Sickened her with the idea that just the night before, she’d made love to a trained killer? She’d asked; he’d told the truth. Monroe would’ve smacked him upside the head for admitting to Sydney that he’d killed people in his career, but there was no going back. This was the shit that always got him into trouble with women, including his mother who only called these days when she needed money. He never lied, never sugarcoated things.

The seat’s leather creaked as she shifted her body. “How are we going to stop this guy?”

He lowered the binoculars and rubbed his eyes. Met her gaze. Lots of eye-to-eye contact, but no judgment in those stormy blue-grays. Was it possible she didn’t hold it against him that he’d killed people? Sure, the media, the psychiatrists, and most people inside the United States believed he’d killed for his country and that was okay. It was okay to kill if you were a soldier following orders or a law enforcement agent doing your job. But sometimes he had doubts.

Doubts that riddled him with guilt and fed the voice in his head with plenty of fodder.

There were no doubts in Sydney’s eyes as she stared at him. Of course, she didn’t know about Todd. About how the sick bastard had gotten off on a technicality and Grey had hunted him down like the animal he was and helped him have a little accident while cleaning his shotgun. The medical examiner suggested the kid might have committed suicide. Either way, the guy who’d killed Grey’s sister could never hurt another girl.
Woman
.

“Monroe and I gathered a lot of circumstantial evidence on The Lion and it did no good. We couldn’t get a warrant to search his house or his office at the Lebanese embassy, so I’m looking for something concrete. Most serial killers keep trophies. If we can break into the townhouse, we may be able to find them.”

“So why don’t I just go up to the door and invite myself in?”

He raised a brow. “Tell me you aren’t serious. After everything I’ve told you...”

“Jeez, relax. How else are we going to find those trophies?”

At that moment, Nabil came out the front entrance, lit a cigarette, and headed for a sleek black sports car parked nearby. Should they follow him or stay put?

Sydney sat straight up, nearly spilling her coffee. “Hey, there goes Nabby. Don’t you want to follow him? You promised me a sandwich. We can pick something up on the way.”

And lose their mark. Right. Besides, if The Lion was gone, this was the perfect time to break into the townhouse and have a look around. Problem was, Grey didn’t know The Lion’s whereabouts. He could be inside, sleeping or showering. No way was he taking Sydney in there unless he knew the place was clear. Maybe not even then.

Grey handed Sydney the binoculars and started the Challenger. “We’ll follow Nabil for a few minutes and see where he goes.”

“Yes.” She tossed the binoculars into the backseat and replaced the lid on her coffee. “Finally some action.”

Through the compact streets of D.C., they followed the black sports car. It pulled up to an old, but recently renovated, bistro and arts studio. The cafe boasted international cuisine in a casual atmosphere, a bakery, and outside dining. Nabil parked around back and entered the restaurant.

Needing to think, Grey drove around the block. Who was the kid meeting? His father or someone else? Was it worth waiting to find out or should they head back to the brownstone and do some snooping?

If he was going to break in, better to do so under the cover of darkness. Better to get Monroe’s help rather than Sydney’s.

He landed a parking spot down the block where he could keep an eye on the restaurant. Might as well see who the kid was meeting, and it was time to let his partner do some more work in a nice, safe, public place.

“Go get a sandwich,” he told Sydney. “See if you can put eyes on Nabil, but don’t call unnecessary attention to yourself.”

She set down the cup, snapped a mock salute. “Yes, sir. Do I need one of those ear thingies so you can harp at me while I’m in there?”

He opened the glove box and handed her one. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

She grinned. “Never.”

Syd marched down the block, fluffing her hair. If she wanted Nabby to spot her first, her hair would be most noticeable as he’d never seen her in casual clothes. She focused on the door of the bistro. If the place was busy, she might be screwed because he wouldn’t see her. Then again, Nabby had just walked in so he might be waiting for a table.

Hold up, here. Her pulsed slammed at her neck. What should she do? Wait a few minutes before going in?

Yes.

Make it seem more like a coincidence rather than her following him. Yeesh. She sucked at this. She dragged her phone from the side pocket of her jacket and checked it. Anyone walking by would think she’d gotten a text, but really, how long could she stand here?

“What are you doing?” Grey asked in her ear.

“I’m killing time so it doesn’t look like I’m following him.”

To this, Fed Boy laughed. “Go in and forget the James Bond crap.”

Syd stepped inside while her pulse continued to hammer.
Take it easy, Syd.
A small group milled around the hostess station. Beyond that, all the tables were occupied, but she didn’t spend too much time scoping out Nabby.

“May I help you?” a perky brunette asked.

“I’d like a sandwich to go, please.”

“Of course, they can help you at the bakery counter.”

The hostess pointed to the case along the wall and Syd wandered to it, salivating over the amazing array of pastries.

“Cupcakes,” she whispered.

“Focus!” Grey barked.

Cripes. Could he not cut her some slack? Maybe it was too much to ask that he encourage her to relax.

“Hi,” said the young guy behind the counter. “You need something?”

“Um, yes. Half a dozen of these chocolate peanut butter cupcakes and a turkey sandwich. Whole wheat bread, lettuce, tomato, mustard, and mayo.”

“You got it, lady.”

“Oh, and a large diet soda, please.”

A waitress squeezed behind her and excused herself.

“Sure thing,” Syd said, taking advantage of the opportunity to scan the room.

And then her gaze connected with Nabil’s and he smiled wide. He had a nice smile. Not slick and sexy like his father; more reserved, but definitely as potent.

“Bingo,” she muttered.

Nabil came toward her, his hand held in greeting and that charming smile firmly in place.

“Cindy, how are you?”

She took his hand and shook it. “Hello, Nabil. How nice to see you.”

“Are you having lunch?”

“Yes. Sort of. I love the bakery here so I stopped in for a sandwich and some goodies. How about you?”

“I’m waiting for my father. He took a call so I came ahead to get us a table.” He waved to his table. “Why don’t you join us?”

“Good!” Fed Boy said and Syd nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Oh,” she said. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Nonsense. My father never minds the company of a beautiful woman.”

Ain’t it the truth.

She glanced over his shoulder, pretended to contemplate the invitation by nibbling her bottom lip. “Well, maybe just for a few minutes.”

Nabil set his hand on her lower back and turned to the kid at the counter. “Thomas, please bring the lady’s items to my table.”

First name basis with the employees. A regular.

She slid into the chair across from Nabil and waited.

“Relax,” Fed Boy said in her ear. “You’re doing great.”

And suddenly, just the sound of his voice soothed her hammering pulse.

“Do you live nearby?” Nabil asked.

“Not in Georgetown, but I love it here. I like to wander on the weekends. How about you?”

“My father has a brownstone a few blocks from here. We like the eclectic menu.”

A waitress stepped up with a bakery box—Fed Boy’s cupcakes—and a white deli bag. Syd reached for her purse, but Nabil held up his hand. “Add it to my bill.”

Syd shook her head. “That’s not necessary.”

He set his hand on her forearm, a gentle touch of his fingertips against her skin. “I insist.”

“Accept the gesture,” Grey murmured.

Syd slung her purse back on the chair. “That’s very kind. Thank you.”

“Nabil?”

The Lion strode toward them. He wore an elegant tan suit, a white dress shirt with a patterned tie, and matching pocket square. His entire appearance, right down to his perfect salt-and-pepper hair, screamed confidence.

And power.

The patrons at the tables around them glanced up, obviously wondering who the slick-looking guy was. Sure, this was D.C. and people were used to seeing politicians, but Ahmed had a way about him. When he entered a room, people noticed.
Women
noticed.

Nabil snatched his hand away. A move Syd found fascinating, but chose to brush off. There would be time later to analyze the power struggle between The Lion and his cub.

“Look who I ran into,” Nabil said.

The Lion turned his gaze on Syd and stared at her with that same sexual hunger she’d seen at the mansion. He gave a small bow. “Hello, Cindy.”

“Hello, Ahmed. Nice to see you.”

Nabil cleared his throat, successfully grabbing his father’s attention. “I’ve asked her to join us.”

“In that case, my apologies. I’ve been summoned to the embassy. I must take my meal to go.” He turned back to Syd. “A pity. I would have enjoyed your company.”

She met his gaze and slid her lips into one of those screw-me smiles she’d been practicing. “Another time, perhaps.”

Forty minutes later, after The Lion’s departure and sharing a meal with Nabil, he paid the bill and walked her to the door. Outside, the street bustled with pedestrian traffic and the whoosh of passing cars. A D.C. cop had someone pulled over on the corner, and for a brief second, she wondered if Grey had illegally parked. Something in that thought amused her, but…nope. Not his car.

She spun back to Nabil. “Thank you. This has been lovely.”

“Do you have plans today?”

“Nothing particular. Maybe a movie later.”

He held out his arm to her, nudging her sideways to accommodate those walking by. “If you’re not meeting anyone, I’d love to spend more time with you. We could explore the city together.”

“Go for it,” Fed Boy said in her ear.

Syd glanced at the sky where the midday sun shone bright—she could do this—then went back to Nabil. “I would like that. I could take you to some of my favorite places.”

He grinned like a schoolboy who’d just received his first A. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to drop the car at the house. Would that be all right?”

Syd hesitated. Normally, she’d never go back to a man’s house if she barely knew him. Then again, Nabil thought she was an escort, and an escort faced with a filthy rich, nice looking man, wouldn’t hesitate. “Not a problem at all.”

Minutes later, Nabil pushed open the heavy arched door leading into the brownstone and waved Syd through.

Here we go
.

“Here we go,” Grey said in her ear and she nearly laughed. Laughing might be better than peeing her freaking pants. She was all for helping women in need, but hell’s bells, it was one thing to be sitting in Grey’s car and letting him think she was ballsy enough to ring the doorbell and invite herself in…another to be led into the parlor by the spider. But Nabil wasn’t the fly, or The Lion, in this case. She just hoped Grey still had her back.

“You’ve got this, Syd,” Grey said. “I’m right here.”

Sometimes she wanted him not to babble in her ear. Now, she liked it. Now, she needed the calm confidence that came with one Justice Greystone and he’d known it. Somehow, this man understood her.

Damn scary thought.

Nabil punched the security code into the alarm keypad as Syd stepped into a massive sunken living room. The tastefully decorated room was fitted with elegant furniture upholstered in deep red and purple fabrics that immediately brought her to a place of peace. The purple was odd, but somehow it worked. Crazy that, considering The Lion, a supposedly sexual deviant, lived here. Then again, people with his money hired decorators.

Muted beige walls were the perfect backdrop for the bold artwork. Syd scanned the various paintings until her attention halted on the one of a woman who wore a deep blue veil over her head and beads that dropped into the middle of her forehead. A bindi. She appeared serene, yet her half-closed eyes gave her a sultry—perhaps even sexy—appearance. Shades of a woman. Fascinating.