Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (26 page)

“I will win you over. You’ll see.” He leaned forward slightly, kept his gaze on her lips, and tilted his head. “Then you’ll beg for me.”

Margarita, margarita, margarita.

“Get out of there,” Grey said in her ear.

Read my mind
.

Slowly, she eased her face backwards. “I’d be thrilled to see you win me over, Ahmed. Now, I think we should get back to the party.”

With that, she slid left, angled around him to stand, and marched toward the door. Knowing his love of hair pulling, she braced herself for the pain that would come when he grabbed her.

Nothing.

She kept walking. Three more steps.

Two.

One.

There.

Gently she opened one door, turned back to The Lion. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“I’ll find you if I need you.”

“Whack-job,” Syd muttered as she left the room.

The man was undoubtedly insane. Perhaps schizophrenic. Lord knew she had plenty of experience dealing with that ailment.

Grey stood at the bottom of the stairs and she kept her eyes on him as she descended.

“You okay?” he asked, barely moving his lips.

Not a chance
. She would never admit that. Not here, anyway. While here, she
had
to be okay. There couldn’t be room in her mind for doubt. Not if she planned to outsmart The Lion.

“I’m fine,” she said as she strolled past Grey.

She stepped into the main room and scanned the mingling crowd. Without a clue who to look for, she scooted to the side to calm her rattling brain.

Against the wall, she breathed in and out until, from the bottom of the stairs, The Lion’s lilting accent reached her.
What was he saying?
Syd shot away from the wall and stood iron straight, her body locking up. The Lion was speaking to Grey.

“You’re Jason Black from Front Range?”

God Almighty. What she shouldn’t do right now was spin toward the stairs and alert the crowd of her horror.

“I am,” Grey said.

“I need to speak with you. Privately.”

That’s it. Cover blown.

An older man with thinning dark hair wandered by her and gave her an I-could-do-you look.
Keep dreaming, pal
. She smiled and quickly averted her eyes. Needing shelter where she could listen to The Lion and Grey, she darted down the hall to the powder room.

The bathroom was occupied so she waited. Good way to kill time. In her ear, she heard the snick of a door shutting. Where the hell were they? Upstairs? She didn’t know.

“What can I do for you, sir?”

Fed Boy must be peeing his pants. Not him.
She
would be peeing her pants, but Grey would be thrilled. Syd gave her hair a fluff to make sure her earpiece was still hidden.

Finally, the woman in the bathroom cleared out and Syd locked herself in to finish her eavesdropping. The horny congressmen would have to wait.

“Security issue at my residence,” The Lion said. “I need someone who can be discreet. I’m told you excel in that area.”

Unbelievable. Syd put the toilet seat down and sat. She ran her hand through her hair, winding one long strand around her index finger while deciding if Grey’s cover was blown and The Lion was setting a trap. He was tricky that way. Always testing people, trying to keep them unsteady. Grey, of all people, would know that. He understood this monster better than anyone did.

“What issue?”

“Someone broke into my residence and destroyed my belongings.”

“What about your own security people?”

“If I alert my people, it will be reported to the embassy.”

“I see,” Grey said.

He sure did. Syd snorted. Wasn’t this some irony? Fed Boy trashed The Lion’s lair and was then asked for help securing it again.

“I will hire you to make security improvements. Cost is not a factor, but I insist on discretion.”

A brief silence. Only a soft brushing sound. Like the swish of clothes. Someone moving? Pacing the room?

“Of course.”

“If you speak of it to anyone, you will never work again. Understood?”

Oh, Fed Boy must love this.

“I assure you, discretion is my middle name,” Grey replied.

Probably because he was too pissed off at the threat to conjure another response. At the same time, knowing him, he was formulating a plan to search The Lion’s house while
improving
his security. She might love this man.

“Be at my residence at nine a.m. tomorrow. We’ll make the arrangements.”

“Nine a.m.,” Fed Boy said. “I’ll be there.”

Again.

The earpiece went quiet for a moment until a soft creek—floorboard? Door opening?—sounded.

Someone knocked lightly on the bathroom door and Syd leaped off the toilet, arms flying.
Scared the crap out of me
. “One second.” She was so not good at the covert stuff.

She did a quick fix in the mirror, mentally readied herself for the remainder of the evening, and opened the bathroom door. She smiled at the woman waiting and slipped past.

Grey.

She needed to put her eyes on him. If nothing else, just to calm her jittery nerves. At the end of the corridor, she scanned the two rooms to her left and right. Nothing. She moved into the larger room containing the bar and there he was, by the doorway leading to the back of the house. He glanced at her, held her gaze for a second, and looked away.

“Bingo,” he mumbled via her earpiece.

For that, she offered him a smile.

Bingo indeed.

The next seventy-eight minutes were spent mingling with guests. High-powered businessmen, political junkies, members of congress. Even some actor. They were all there. And at two grand a ticket, they’d paid well for it.

She did her part and flirted with the men—particularly the single ones—while not infuriating the women in the room.

An often tough task with this crowd. Some of these over-Botoxed women looked mean enough to slice Syd to bits. Not that she couldn’t dispose of them easily enough. She just wasn’t in the mood for catfights.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted The Lion approaching. She readied herself, tried to think of something witty, but found it a useless endeavor. It didn’t matter anyway because he walked by her and zeroed in on Jennifer who was speaking with a couple near the corner window. The Lion stepped up, inserted himself into the conversation, and then whispered something in Jennifer’s ear before leaving again. Jennifer stayed with the couple.

Syd shifted sideways and gave Grey the eye.

“I got it,” he said.

Syd turned her attention back to Jennifer, now also on the move and heading in Grey’s direction.

“She’s coming behind you,” Syd whispered, hoping Grey caught it.

“Evening,” Grey said. Apparently, he’d run into Jennifer.

“Hey, handsome,” she replied.

Mine.

And,
hello
, when had Syd ever been the jealous sort? The twisted part of her found it comforting. After all, not many men had drawn that response from her. Maybe there was hope for her yet.

She stood at the end of the hallway, pretending to fiddle with the clasp on her bracelet. From where she stood, she spied Grey opening a door for Jennifer, nodding and then closing it.

“He was in there,” Grey said in her ear.

The Lion wasn’t kidding when he said he’d find sex elsewhere. Sick puppy. Then again, Jennifer was a willing participant.
I’d rather keep him for myself.

A few minutes later, Syd spotted Nabil entering the room. Finally. Someone she could tolerate. His gaze found hers and they met halfway. “Nice to see you again.”

“Hello, Cindy. Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Lovely crowd tonight. It’s just about time for me to leave though.”

He glanced around the room. “The event appears to be coming to an end. Shall I walk you out?”

Syd opened her purse and checked her phone. No text from Jennifer. “Not yet. I’m waiting for Jennifer.”
Who is fucking your father’s brains out.
“She’ll text me when she’s ready.”

“She’s moving again.” Fed Boy said in her ear. “Hang on. She’s going out the back.”

What the hell?

Syd checked her phone and watched the screen light up. “Here she is now. She’s meeting me out front.”

But she’s going out the back. Odd.

“I’ll walk you to the door,” Nabil said.

Outside, Syd found Jennifer standing in the shadows of a huge oak tree while the valets dealt with exiting partygoers. She must have walked around the house and through the alley separating the townhouses.

“The limo is right around the corner. Should be any time now.”

“That’s fine,” Syd said.

But something about Jennifer was off. Maybe it was the hiding in the shadows thing. Jennifer usually spent every minute cuddling up to someone at these events. Never had Syd seen her shying away.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “Here’s the car.”

Syd slid into the far seat in the limo and watched as Jennifer settled her dress. The interior light shone on her blonde hair and glowing skin. A truly beautiful woman.

Then Syd saw the nasty, raw red marks looping the front and side of Jennifer’s neck and her temples began to hammer. “What’s that?”

Jennifer turned to her. “What?”

“Your neck? What happened?”

She placed her hand over the marred area. “Downside of the trade. Ahmed got a little rough tonight. Unusual for him. That’s why I went out the back. Didn’t need anyone seeing me like this.”

It’s my fault
. Syd shook off the vile thought. Still, it rooted inside her that the man was crazy enough to harm another woman as retaliation.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. His guilt got me an extra thousand.”

Jesus
.

“Jesus,” Fed Boy said in her ear. How did he always know what she was thinking?

The insanity of this lifestyle baffled her. Sure the money was good, but was it worth being degraded? Syd turned forward. No sense trying to convince Jennifer of the dangers. Been there, done that and she had no interest.

At least until she wound up dead.

Chapter Twenty-two

Grey watched Syd’s limo drive away and felt his shoulders relax a fraction. She was safe and he was one step closer to finding those trophies.

Commotion erupted at the back of the house. Someone screamed. Grey ran, going into security mode.

Most of the partygoers had left, but a small crowd gathered outside on the back lawn. Grey made his way around the edge of the crowd, came out near the tree line of the woods. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Lying on the ground, facedown, was a girl—woman. One of the escorts. Her blue dress torn, her arms and legs splayed at unnatural angles.

“Call 911,” Grey said into his security mic.

His boss responded, the memory of the last call for 911 fresh in both their minds, asking for a sit rep. “Escort down,” he answered, moving beside the girl. Red marks striped her neck.

Grey’s stomach bottomed out. Doing a quick visual, he pressed his fingers against her neck, checking for a pulse.

“Is she dead?” someone called from the crowd. His boss was asking the same thing in Grey’s ear.

Grey shifted his fingers, willing them to find even the slightest hint of a pulse. Nothing.

He hung his head and let out a disgusted breath. Then, feeling eyes on him, he looked up and scanned the faces staring at him. Swaying leaves rattled in the wind over the murmur of voices. Still, the paralyzing quiet made his head pound. He moved his gaze over the crowd a second time.

He’s here.

The killer was there, watching…waiting.

Catch me if you can.

Grey’s attention rose above the crowd, climbing upward to a window in the second story of the house.

There, backlit by the room’s bright interior stood The Lion.

Three hours later, the voice in Grey’s head was going full throttle.
Another dead girl
.
How could you let that happen
?

He’d been at the party, kept an eye on Syd. Even when she was out of his sight, he’d known exactly where she’d been and who she was with.

Which meant, he hadn’t kept an eye on all the other girls.

Jennifer had been easy to track, but three more escorts arrived an hour after Syd and Jennifer. One of them was now at the county morgue and Donaldson was livid.

What’s new
? the voice asked.
You punch every hot button the man has
.

Morgan Cashore. Dead. One of the other escorts had been looking for her so they could leave and discovered the body. Preliminary cause of death, strangulation.

Grey turned onto Syd’s street. When he hadn’t shown up at her place after the event, she’d texted him. He’d been knee-deep in shit at that point. The escort service was all over his ass, Donaldson wanted to speak to him alone, and since he was the security agent in charge of the girls, the local cops called in to handle the situation discreetly wanted to question him. Placating them and The Smoking Gun’s director was a piece of cake. Placating Donaldson and the voice inside Grey’s head? Impossible.

Traffic was nonexistent at two a.m. His only luck tonight. He’d managed a brief text back to Syd to tell her he’d be late, but balls to buckets, she’d be climbing the walls by now. Or maybe she’d fallen asleep. He hoped the latter since he was about to keep her up for the rest of the night, and not with angry sex.

Outside her duplex, he rang the bell. She came to the door immediately, looked out the side window—
definitely not sleeping
—and the door popped open.

She narrowed her eyes and led him into her place. “Where have you been? You didn’t do that security thing for Ahmed tonight, did you?”

Grey pecked her on the cheek, laid down the briefcase he carried. Shrugging out of his coat, he let his gaze roam over her pjs and ponytailed hair, soaking her up.
Thank God, she’s safe.
“Another girl is dead.”