Holiday Justice Read online

  Holiday Justice

  A Justice Team Novella

  by

  Misty Evans

  &

  Adrienne Giordano

  Holiday Justice

  Copyright © 2014 Misty Evans and Adrienne Giordano

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9907984-4-6

  Cover Art by The Killion Group, Inc.

  Formatting by Author E.M.S.

  Editing by Valerie Hayward

  By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this eBook. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.

  Please Note

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this eBook via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Chapter One

  December in D.C. was not Grey’s favorite. In fact, he hated it. The holidays were never happy or peaceful for him, and the dirty snow and freezing temps of the nation’s capitol made him grumble like a bear in need of hibernation.

  What he did like was the sexy red number Syd was wearing tonight. Her festive dress, as she called it.

  Festive was right. Low-cut and wrapped around her luscious curves, it made him drool.

  They were standing in front of the entrance to McCann’s, the hot, new restaurant Grey had tried making reservations for since the place had opened. Each time he was told they were booked clear into spring of next year. So what they were doing here, he wasn’t sure, but this was Syd’s deal and as long as she had that red dress on, he’d pretty much agree to anything.

  “What are we doing here, Syd?”

  Her gloved hand grabbed his as she opened the door. “You’ll see.”

  The smell of searing meat and grilled vegetables hit his nose as he followed her in. She was into the holidays, as evidenced by the dress, and he had a feeling this was one of his Christmas gifts. If so, he’d make her a happy woman—in every way he could think of—when they got home.

  Sydney spoke to the hostess, and a minute later, she led them through the throng of people, past the bar and crowded tables. A waiter cruised by them carrying two plates and the porterhouse made his mouth water. Every table they passed had at least one unbelievable looking steak on it. If this was Syd’s gift to him, he was going to feel very festive indeed.

  But then the hostess led them through the swinging metal door and right into the kitchen. Heat hit him like a wall and once again he sucked in the aroma of grilling meat. All around, men and women with aprons on and knives in hand cut, carved, peeled and cooked, white plates sliding this way and that.

  God, he hoped he didn’t have to cook his own steak. He sort of sucked at cooking.

  “Here we are,” the hostess said with a smile, stopping at a table for four crammed into a corner in the far back. “Will you be ordering right away or are you waiting for the rest of your party?”

  What the?

  Syd shrugged out of her coat, handing it off to the hostess. “We’ll wait. They should be here any minute.”

  “How about drinks for the two of you?”

  Syd ordered her usual Dirty Martini as the hostess took Grey’s coat. “I’ll stick to water. Thanks.”

  “You will not,” Syd said as he held her chair out for her. “We’re celebrating tonight. Which is the good news. The bad news is Monroe, being Monroe, is crashing our dinner. As his punishment, he’ll be our designated driver after we feed him. So, you see, my love, by drinking we’re killing two birds with one stone. Belly up, Fed Boy. It’s Christmas.”

  “Seriously? He’s crashing?”

  Syd rolled her eyes. “Of course. This place is impossible to get into. He’s a pain in the ass but he’s no fool. He heard me making the reservation and was all over me to let him and Caroline come too.” She smiled. “I was feeling generous. It is Christmas, after all.”

  “You’re always generous, especially with my friends.” Grey leaned over and kissed her forehead. He copped a look down her cleavage at the same time. “And I’m hoping that generosity extends to me later, after we’re home.”

  Her smile turned wicked. “Ho, ho, ho, Grey.”

  Okay, so maybe the holidays wouldn’t be so bad after all. He had Syd this year, and with her by his side, he might even feel the slightest, smallest bit festive.

  Grey picked up the menu but Syd snatched it out of his hands. “You won’t need this. I’ve already spoken to Chef Paul. He’s going to fix you up with the best rib eye in all of Washington. Possibly the entire East Coast.”

  Behind them, pots banged and people shouted back and forth over the food prep stations. Grey grabbed Syd’s chair and pulled her closer to him. Her long, dark hair fell over her shoulder and he pushed it away so he could nuzzle her neck. He loved when she wore her hair down. “You in that dress and a rib eye are the perfect cocktail for me, Sydney Banfield.”

  The door that led to the alley on Grey’s right blew open and Mitch Monroe and Caroline Foster stood with their shoulders hunched and rubbing their hands together. Mitch gave Grey a lazy smile. “What did we miss?”

  “You’re late,” Syd said.

  Caroline laughed. “As if Mitch could be on time?”

  She came over and gave Grey a quick hug. “Merry Christmas, boss.”

  Grey hated the words, but in the spirit of what Syd was trying to do here, he said them anyway. “Merry Christmas.”

  In typical Mitch fashion, he slid out of his coat, grabbed Caroline’s and handed them both to a passing waitress. As if it was her job to play coat check.

  “What?” he said as Grey gave him the eye. “I’ll tip her extra later.”

  Mitch and Caroline sat and Mitch flipped open his menu, perusing the choices. “By the way, are we doing an office Secret Santa for the holidays?”

  “What office?” Caroline said. “It’s just the three of us and Teeg, and I don’t think our current squatting place qualifies as a true office. And really? What kind of gift would we buy Teeg? A gift card to Hackers Unlimited? That kid is a total enigma.”

  Grey sighed. The two of them never stopped squabbling. When they were all special agents at the Bureau together, it was fun to get the two of them started and listen to the zingers they off-loaded on each other. Now that he was their boss, it sucked. Big time. “We are not exchanging gifts. Period. Besides, we have cases coming out of our ears. We can’t handle our current workload and the last thing we need to be doing is slacking off.”

  “We need more help.” Mitch closed the menu. “I say we hire Brice.”

  Caroline shook her head. “I don’t know. He’s great, don’t get me wrong, but can you imagine him and Teeg working together? They’d probably take down the Internet or something. The conspiracy theories alone would scare the hell out of me.”

  Syd stroked Grey’s leg under the table. “Can we not talk shop tonight? All I want for Christmas is one quiet dinner that does not involve conspiracies, murderers, or politicians. Or you lunatics planning world dominatio
n. It’s not a lot to ask.”

  Grey coughed. “Mitch is here. A quiet dinner is not in the cards.”

  Their waitress arrived, bearing Grey and Syd’s drinks. She took orders from Caroline and Mitch and Syd told her the chef knew what she and Grey would be having. The young woman winked at Syd and disappeared.

  Minutes later, the back door, one of those banging metal deals, clanged open once more and a busboy hustled through.

  “Hey,” he hollered into the chaos of the kitchen. “Santa just walked down the alley. There’s something you don’t see every day.”

  Mitch went on alert. “Santa in the alley? What’s that about?”

  “Down, Mitch,” Caroline said, grabbing on to his arm. “We talked about this, remember? It’s nothing. You do not have to get involved with everything you see or hear.”

  “I’m no longer a fugitive,” he countered. “I want to get involved.”

  “Yes, but not everyone is a criminal. Santa is probably coming home from his gig at the mall. There are apartments over some of the nearby buildings. He’s probably short-cutting through the alley.”

  The waitress returned with two plates and set them down in front of Grey and Syd. The steak on Grey’s plate sizzled, the aroma nearly knocking him out of his seat. “Leave it be, Mitch. It’s just one of the hundreds of fake Santas running around the city lying to kids about Christmas.”

  “Well, aren’t you Scrooge reincarnated?” Caroline said.

  “Yes, he is,” Syd agreed. “I’m working on that.”

  Grey fluffed out his napkin and put it in his lap. He took up his utensils and held them still a moment, sending a little prayer up to the gods of good steaks and thanking them for the piece of paradise he was about to dive into.

  “Thank you, Sydney.” He cut into the meat and gingerly placed a bite in his mouth. He chewed slowly, letting his taste buds savor the burst of flavors. If there was a heaven for great steaks, he’d be in it. Right now.

  Syd watched him closely. He swallowed. “I adore you, Syd. It’s perfect.”

  “Yes!” She and Caroline high-fived each other over the table.

  Mitch fidgeted in his seat and jerked a thumb to the door behind him. “I think we need to check out this Santa. Something is sideways with that.”

  “No,” both women said.

  Not that the word “no” ever stopped this guy. They should know that this late in the game. To prove the point, Mitch jumped up and headed for the back door.

  “Sorry, girls,” he said. “I can’t stand it. There’s been a recent string of burglaries in this area, break-ins, and stolen Christmas gifts. Santa in an alley screams criminal activity to me, and if he’s been burglarizing the neighbors, this Santa is about to get busted.”

  Caroline put her elbows on the table and hung her head in her hands. “I’m sleeping with a paranoid freak. I swear he needs therapy. It’s just not normal.”

  She rose and caught the waitress’s attention. “Can I get our coats, please?”

  The waitress glanced behind her to the food prep area. “You haven’t eaten. I think the chef is plating your food right now.”

  “I’m sorry, but my boyfriend, the absolute love of my life, is insane. Maybe you can keep it warm for a few minutes?”

  A minute later, she had her coat on and Mitch’s in hand. “We’ll be right back,” she told Grey and Syd. “If I have to kill him first and drag his cold, lifeless body back in here, I swear to you, we’ll be right back.”

  Somehow, Grey knew that was a lie.

  Caroline stepped into the alley and the pungent aroma of old food mixed with God knew what else from the dumpster stole her breath. She slapped her gloved hand over her mouth and breathed in. She loved this man, but at times, he made her nuts. When he’d been on the run, she’d survived without him and that time had been peaceful and quiet.

  And boring.

  And lonely.

  Right now, standing in this dreary alley, sucking in bad air, peaceful, quiet and boring didn’t sound half bad.

  She hunched against a burst of wind and pulled her coat tighter at the collar. “Mitch?” she called.

  “Ssshhh.”

  Caroline sighed. She should just shoot him and be done with the whole mess. A dull spotlight on the side of the building illuminated the back half of the alley. Ten yards to her left she spied Mitch’s white shirt in the darkness. She marched toward him, his coat in hand, ready to give him the beat down of his life.

  “Listen to me,” she said. “I love you more than is rationally acceptable. At this point, it’s a sickness. I usually have no problem indulging your sometimes bizarre instinctive moves, but tonight I’m digging in. Please. Syd worked hard on this dinner. Do you even know what it took for her to pull this off?”

  “Ssshhh,” Mitch said again. “Did you hear that?”

  Double sigh. “Forget what I hear. Did you hear me?”

  “Just listen, Caroline. Then you can lecture me on what a rotten friend I am.”

  “You’re not a rotten friend. A little twisted maybe, but not rotten.”

  “Ssshhh.”

  Okay. Now he’d gone off the rails.

  “There it is again.”

  That time she heard it. The low clang of metal sliding against metal.

  Dammit. Wasn’t this always the way with Mitch? From the first time they’d worked together at the FBI, she’d been fool enough to buy into his paranoia. Problem was, most of the time, his paranoia was warranted. Standing in this putrid alley in the freezing cold, she felt it again, that pull, that enticing excitement that made her blood hum because Mitch Monroe, sex god of the century, might be right about a crooked Santa.

  God help them.

  Caroline cocked her head. “Fire escape?”

  “Yeah. And sure, maybe Santa lives over the building, but why use the fire escape? There’s got to be a street entrance.”

  “Santa doesn’t want to be seen?”

  “Not only are you beautiful, Caroline, you’re brilliant. You have your rifle in your trunk?”

  And it begins… On the way to Mitch’s, she’d picked up her rifle from her gunsmith after having a mounting ring on the scope replaced, so yes, she did have her rifle in her trunk. “My rifle?”

  “Get your scope and keep an eye on things out here.”

  She threw her hands up. “Whoa. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Do you have your phone?”

  “Yeah, why?”

  “We should let Grey know we’re checking this out.”

  “Nah. He’ll be a pain in the balls about it.”

  “What else is new, but you need backup. If I’m getting my rifle, you’ll be alone. And that doesn’t work for me. At all.”

  Mitch turned, met her gaze dead on, and she waited. In the next three seconds he’d realize she was right. Between their former jobs at the Bureau and what they did for the Justice Team, they’d worked together long enough to know certain things, like not entering an unknown situation without backup.

  “You’re right.” He pulled his phone from his back pocket and shot Grey a text.

  Mitch Monroe may have been a lot of things, but stupid was nowhere on the list. Caroline glanced back at the door leading into the restaurant and what would have been an amazing meal. Maybe later.

  Grey’s tall form suddenly filled the doorway. Text received.

  “There he is,” Caroline said. “Where do you want me?”

  Chapter Two

  Where did he want her? Where he always wanted her. Underneath him.

  But that would have to wait. First he had a criminal to catch. Although Grey and Caroline thought he was nuts and simply itching for an adventure, Mitch had been following the news obsessively for days. Christmas was a heyday for criminals on the take. Police suspected a Santa theft ring.

  “Find a good vantage point across the street where you can see the top of the building,” he told Caroline. The structure appeared to be empty. Possibly a few homeless people using it on occas
ion or local drug dealers if they were desperate, but otherwise zero activity.

  Why McCann’s had set up their restaurant in this neighborhood was the question of the hour, but the area was said to be undergoing rejuvenation. All artsy-fartsy and shit. Mitch guessed the rent was low and that was the real reason. “If our Santa is using the fire escape to go up, the roof is the place to start.”

  Caroline hesitated for a minute, then whirled around and headed for the parking lot where they’d left her car. She half waved, half saluted Grey as she did. Damn, he loved her. She bitched a lot, but when it came down to it, she always had his six.

  Grey stepped out of the doorway and off the step. Under the single streetlight, his face was set in an I’m going to kill you look. Nothing new. “Where is she going?”

  “To get her rifle.”

  Grey’s head dipped forward in that WTF move he always hit Mitch with. “What?”

  “Hey, you never know what nasty criminal element could pop out of this building.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Mitch pointed up. “Santa’s on the roof, and I don’t think he’s looking for a chimney.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  His buddy’s eyes bulged. If he didn’t relax, he’d pop an artery. “Dude, you have got to relax. And Caroline says I need therapy.”

  “If you think that Santa is involved in the burglary ring, call the police. Now, we’ve got a great meal waiting for us.”

  “What fun would that be?”

  Grey was bearing down on him, his hands balled into fists. Yep, the man was pissed. “I’d get to enjoy my steak in peace and go home with my beautiful girlfriend and strip off her festive dress.” He turned his hands palms up as if weighing his two options. “Indulge you on some ridiculous escapade or enjoy a night of holiday cheer. Hmm…”

  “Go eat your steak. Caroline and I got this.” Mitch headed for the nearest entrance to the building. He tried the knob but the door was locked. Time to find that fire escape. He glanced back at Grey still standing in the alley. “Get lost. I’ll handle this.”