Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (20 page)

Dickweed.

She narrowed her eyes. “How so?”

“Nabil Khourey called. He enjoyed your afternoon together very much and would like to invite you to have dinner at his place tomorrow night. He told me the two of you are friends.”

Ian’s voice suggested he knew better. She rolled her eyes and exchanged a look with Grey. He nodded. “What about the Li…” She caught herself. “Ahmed. What about him? Is he going to be there?”

“Nabil didn’t mention his father. He said you’d taken time to show him around D.C. and he wanted to return the favor by treating you to a Lebanese dinner.”

As much as he hated sending her in there—he’d learned with Molly that women shouldn’t be alone with men he didn’t know—this was another chance to search the place. She could get back into the brownstone with no threat to herself and he could follow her in.

He nodded vigorously at Syd. She seemed okay with it, a small smile at his exuberance lifting the corner of her mouth. “What time?”

“Seven. But one warning.”

Syd’s brows squeezed down. “What?”

“This isn’t an
official
job for The Smoking Gun. This is just…dinner. Between friends You’ll still be paid, of course. Nabil insists. But it’s…”

“Off the books?”

“Exactly. Which is a win-win for you. No cut of the fee going to the service. It’s all yours, and it’s a solid two thousand bucks. Some friend you’ve made there, Sydney.”

Nabil actually liked Syd and wanted to treat her to dinner. Grey couldn’t blame him.

Syd met his gaze, her eyes sympathetic. She was thinking the same thing. “I’d love to. Tell Nabil I’ll be there at seven.”

She and Ian disconnected and she set the phone on the table, shaking her head. “He’s paying me to have dinner with him at home. How pathetic is that? All he had to do was ask.”

Grey stood and stretched, adrenaline still shooting down his legs but in a manner that made him feel like he’d won a race. “He doesn’t know that. He probably wanted to lock it in and figured schmoozing you with the money would do it. And, in a twisted way, he was right.” Grey faced her and saw the Syd he admired shining in her eyes. The one that took every person in need under her wing and tried to fix him or her. Nabil was in for a night to remember.

“Should I be jealous?” he teased.

Grabbing his hand, she drew him down on the sofa next to her. “Hell, no. But you should be extremely thankful I agreed to go back to that brownstone and make nice to Nabil.”

“You can unlock the back door like you did today, and I’ll…”

“Oh, no. Not that again.” She stuck a finger in his face. “You gave me at least three coronaries when you were snooping around in there. We do this my way or it’s a no-go. You stay outside. I’ll hunt for the trophies.”

“But you won’t know what you’re looking for.”

“You can coach me through one of those ear thingies.”

He didn’t like it, but when it came to Sydney, negotiating was the only solution. “You’ll wear your pea shooter concealed under your dress and if you haven’t found anything before dessert, I’m coming in.”

Another one of those quirky smiles teased her lips. She slipped her hand between his legs and gave him a squeeze. “You drive a hard bargain.”

The bargain wasn’t the only hard thing. He kissed her, a soft, lingering touch of his lips, and traced his fingers down her face. “So do you, partner.”

She nipped his bottom lip with her teeth. “What do you say we continue this bargaining showdown in the bedroom?”

“Why not here on the sofa?”

Her laughter filled the room. It also filled his heart. “You’re on. Now shut up and take off your pants.”

That was one negotiating point he wasn’t going to argue.

Chapter Sixteen

Syd stood on the sidewalk in front of The Lion’s brownstone dreading the moment she’d have to walk through the damned door. Not that Nabil worried her, but after the day she’d had, which included the intake at the shelter of a twenty-one-year-old woman with three broken ribs and a fractured cheekbone, oh, and breaking a few dozen laws by getting a mother of three and her family new identities so they could flee her husband, it had been an emotionally draining ten hours.

What she knew though, without a doubt, was that she’d done the right thing. No matter the personal risks, she’d happily line up every man who had ever abused a woman and shoot their peckers off. If that made her a bitch, oh well,
life goes on
.

The absolute topper of her horrendous day was that here she was at the Khourey’s brownstone for dinner. At least it was Nabil and not his father. Even if she hadn’t been convinced of Ahmed’s serial killer status, could there be a more crazy-assed thing for a woman to do than go into his lair? Yesterday, she’d gotten a bit of a rush out of helping Grey sneak inside. Tonight, going in just seemed idiotic, whether Grey had her back or not.

She chalked up her reluctance to the long day. This was what she’d signed on for and, in a bizarre way, this assignment fit with her career choice. Every aspect of her life revolved around helping battered or endangered women and the weight of her responsibilities pressed in. How much was too much? How many broken bones and dead women would it take to push her over the rocky, emotional edge of sanity?

“Syd?” Grey said in her ear. Since it was evening, street parking was horrible. He’d had to plant himself in a parking spot three blocks over. He couldn’t see her, but the silence from her end must have sent up a red flag.

“Just taking a breath,” she whispered.

“I’m right here. Code word is margarita. You need help, just say it. Okay?”

“Got it.”

It was time. She’d just march up and knock on the door. No problem.

Except the front door swung open and The Lion stood there, dressed as usual in an immaculate black suit complete with the ever-present pocket square. Why was he there?

Swallowing her surprise, she smiled. “Hello, Ahmed. What a nice surprise. Going out?”

The Lion smiled—predatory—and motioned her up the stairs. “I have a dinner date.”

Syd pasted on a smile, lifted her gown a few inches so she didn’t trip on the stairs, and took her first steps toward the door. As she ascended, The Lion’s lingering gaze ran over her, taking in every inch of the navy halter gown Ian had sent. Apparently, the personal shopper at the store did this quite often for Ian’s girls. The woman had to know she was styling escorts, didn’t she?

Mind travel. Such a glorious thing in times of stress.

At the top of the stoop, The Lion’s leering look landed on her tits.
Pig
.

Finally, he made it to her face. “Stunning,” he said.

“You’re in,” Grey said, and a trickle of relief bloomed inside her. He was close if she needed him.

She could handle this.

“Thank you, Ahmed.”

He held out his arm for her to pass. When she did, his hand touched her lower back, fingers lightly skimming her ass as she strode by him. Maybe it was an accident. Could have been.

Line them all up and shoot their peckers off.

She sent him a questioning look. He smiled all innocent, and she wondered if she’d imagined it.

He waved her to the sofa. “Please be seated. My chef is preparing dinner and will serve us shortly.”

Syd froze.
Us?
“Where’s Nabil? I was supposed to have dinner with him.” She pointed at Ahmed’s stupid pocket square. “I thought you were going out.”

The Lion dismissed the idea as if it were ridiculous. “Nabil is out with his friends, drinking, whoring around. You know how young men are.”

He’d tricked her. The Lion had tricked her. For half a second, her blood ran cold, fear making her head spin before it turned to rage in her veins. “You had him call Ian and invite me to dinner.”

Ahmed’s face lit up like a child’s. He raised his hands in a mock show of acquiesce. “You found me out.”

“Shit, Sydney. Get out of there,” Grey said in her ear. “Pull the plug.”

Oh, no. She may have been tired and cranky, and yes, scared as hell over the trickery involved here, but she would not let Ahmed Khourey get the best of her. Cold. Day. In. Hell.

Besides, according to Grey’s file, The Lion had never killed in his own home, right?

She swallowed hard. “This better be one hell of a dinner, Ahmed.”

The corner of his mouth quirked. The lion had his prey trapped at the watering hole. Perhaps she’d underestimated him.

“Something to drink?”

So charming. So innocent. “Water. Please.”

Not that she’d drink one thing from his hands. God knew what he’d spike it with.

Ahmed strode off to the kitchen while Syd forced herself to the sofa. Of course, the side slit in her dress flew open revealing a whole lot of leg. Damn. She tried to close the slit, but there was no way. She’d just have to put up with his greedy looks.

She let the dress, and another piece of her sanity, go.

“Syd,” Grey implored. “You do
not
have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” she murmured. “Let me work.”

Her gaze wandered to the painting of the veiled woman she’d admired the day before. At first, she thought the woman’s eyes sensual. Now on closer inspection, she decided haunted might be a better description. Or maybe that was simply her foul mood. Either way, her thoughts were interrupted by Ahmed shoving a glass at her. She set it on a ceramic coaster the color of fire on the side table.

Everything about this man—even the colors in his home—revolved around power, sex, and hunger. From a primal place, she understood why women were attracted to him. On the surface, he’d be the whole package.

Below the surface was where she needed to dig.

“Do you like it?”

She snapped her gaze to his.

“The painting?” he said. “She’s extraordinary, no?”

Syd nodded. “It’s her eyes. I wonder what she’s thinking.”

He grinned. “A question I’ve asked myself about women many times.”

“Oh, Ahmed. We’re really not that complicated. Treat us right and we’ll be loyal forever.”

“Syd!” Fed Boy hissed.

The chef chose that moment to enter. “Sir, dinner is served.”

Now she had to eat. Avoiding drinking had been fairly easy. Eating? Not so much. She simply had to do it.

“I’m right here,” Grey said. “If you go quiet, I’ll know something is wrong. He makes one wrong move, I’m coming to get you.”

She glanced up at the chef. “Thank you.”

They’d never know the gratitude was meant for Grey.

Ahmed escorted her to the dining room table covered with various dishes—he called it a mezze—that offered an array of aromas, colors, and textures. God, it looked good. And suddenly, Syd was famished, her stomach overriding the warning signals firing from her brain.

Ahmed held a chair for her and she slid into it, making sure to keep her back to him in case he got handsy again. He was being such a gentleman, though. Maybe she really had imagined his earlier touch of her ass. His hands on her ass, she could handle. Anywhere else would tax her.

Jennifer’s words rang in her ears…
With him, it’s easy. He makes it good
.

God, what have I gotten myself into?

Thankfully, he kept his grip on the chair. “The chef has created a traditional Lebanese meal. I thought you might enjoy the foods of my country.”

“It smells heavenly.”

“I think you will enjoy it.”

If the aromas of garlic, cinnamon, and something spicy were any indication, it would be an excellent meal. If only her throbbing stomach would hold it.

Thirty minutes later, her stomach did its job and kept the food in place. Another day and time, she’d have loved this meal. Maybe she’d visit the Lebanese restaurant near her home and sample more.

The chef appeared and informed Ahmed dessert was in the warming tray and he would be leaving.

Leaving?

He was
leaving
?

Searing daggers hacked into the back of her neck. She’d be alone in the house with Ahmed. And he’d made sure to tell her Nabby was out for the evening. No help would come her way from inside the house. It was all on Grey now.

Ahmed thanked the chef who let himself out the back door. The same door Grey had entered on Saturday.

Ahmed rose from the table, and when she slid her chair back, he held his hand up to stop her. “I have a small gift for you. Wait here while I get it.”

“A gift?” Fed Boy mused in her ear. “What’s this now?”

Syd cleared her throat just as Ahmed returned with three silky veils draped over his right arm. He held his arm straight and the veils hung in front of her. She turned her chair sideways and ran her hand over the luxurious fabric.

“For you,” Ahmed said.

“Thank you,” she croaked.

“Which would you like to wear?”

What?
At a loss, she stared up at him.

He nudged the scarves closer and took a small step. “In my country, the veil is a sign of modesty. I like my women to wear them.”

His
women? Putting aside the fact she was half naked in the halter dress, the reference to her being
his
woman, was definitely a little unnerving.

“They’re beautiful,” Syd said.

“Which one will you wear?”

Come on, Syd. Get in the game.

She ran her hand over the sky blue one. “Would it be appropriate? Considering what I’m wearing.”

And once again, his hungry gaze lingered over her. Most women, maybe even her, would be turned on by that look, would find it a compliment that a man like Ahmed so obviously found them attractive.

So confused.

The lamb from dinner backed up into her throat and Syd closed her eyes.

At least until a warm hand cupped her breast. Syd threw her shoulders back just as Ahmed ran his hand over her nipple.

“Ahmed!”

“Come now, my dear. You cannot be so shy.”

She grabbed his wrist and squeezed. “Don’t touch me like that.”

“I want you. I always get what I want.”

He squeezed her nipple. Not hard, but enough for her to know he wanted control.