Protecting Justice (The Justice Series Book 4) Read online

  Leaning her forehead against the doorframe, she punched in the code.

  By the time she made it to the kitchen and her cell phone, she was sweating, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold the phone.

  She had to call the police. Settling into a chair, she started to dial 9-1-1. That’s when her eyes landed on the business card lying on the table.

  Tony Gerard. He’d left it there “in case.”

  She rubbed her finger over the raised lettering. Whatever was going on with her sister and the tablet, Fallyn knew she was going to need professional help. The police had to be notified about the break-in, but she doubted there was much they could do for her except file reports and offer useless platitudes. She’d bet money on the fact the intruder had left no fingerprints, no DNA. And she certainly couldn’t share her suspicions about the tablet with them.

  It took three tries for her to dial the number correctly. When she finally heard Gerard’s deep, powerful voice on the other end, she nearly wept with relief. Her head was pounding, her pulse racing. When she found her voice, it came out ragged and garbled.

  She cleared her throat and tried again. “Mr. Gerard?”

  “Who is this?”

  “I know it’s too early to be calling, but I have a situation—”

  “Fallyn?”

  He recognized her voice. “Yes, it’s me. I…”

  She heard bedsprings groan, and in her mind, she saw him sitting up. “Are you okay?”

  No, she wasn’t okay. She was scared, really scared.

  Control. She just needed to exert some control. Work the case. “I think I may need your services.”

  She heard running water on his end. “What happened?”

  “I’ll explain when you get here.”

  There was a slight, telling pause. “I’ll be there in ten. Are you safe?”

  Was she? “I’ll be fine until you arrive,” she said, eyeing a set of butcher knives on the counter across the room. She didn’t expect the intruder to come back so soon, even though it appeared he hadn’t found what he was looking for. “But I could use some coffee. As strong and as black as you can get it.”

  “Coffee, huh? Okay, coffee is doable.” Was that laughter lacing his voice? “Hang tight.”

  Coffee wasn’t the only thing that was doable, Fallyn decided as she disconnected and stumbled to the counter to arm herself.

  Any man who looked like Tony Gerard and would come running with coffee in hand at five in the morning was definitely going on her doable list.

  * * *

  Tony knocked on Heather Pasche’s front door, a giant black coffee from his favorite Dunkin’ Donuts at the ready. Yeah, he had a thing for donuts and coffee and the guys at the Court Police would rib him endlessly with cops and donuts jokes. He didn’t have the fat gut though. Never would. He logged rigorous hours in the gym, damned near killing himself pumping loads most men couldn’t budge. It wasn’t about ego or being a gym lug. For him, the screaming endorphin release quieted the endless chatter in his brain, the obsessing over what was expected of him and what he should do, or be, or hope for. All those emotions—those fucking little bastards—buried inside him, picking at him. Waiting…

  Forget it.

  He knocked on the senator’s door a second time and waited. Around him, the April morning mist gave off an eerie vibe and he glanced down the quiet street where DC traffic had yet to fully explode. He loved this time of day. Darkness hadn’t surrendered and the chill in the air was enough to bring back thoughts of his father and their early morning fishing trips. They’d put on their gear and hats and hop into Dad’s battered outboard fishing boat for a few hours. Always in the morning before Dad left for work and Tony for school.

  At ten, he never minded getting up at oh-dark-hundred for fishing. School, yes. Fishing, no.

  Footsteps from inside the house sounded and he turned back, waiting for Fallyn to let him in. She’d better check that door before opening it.

  From the corner of his eye he spotted the curtain in the front window sway. Good girl.

  “It’s me,” he said. “Tony.”

  Just in case she didn’t recognize the guy on the doorstep who’d promised her strong coffee.

  Numbnuts.

  The door came open, but she stood behind it, peeping at him.

  Hiding.

  And, yeah, his shit-meter went bee-zerk. Still holding the coffee, he slid into the door opening and shut the door behind him. “You okay?”

  “Yep. You bet. Good morning and all that.”

  Nothing in her voice made a believer out of him. The second he was clear of the door, she threw the bolt, her hands visibly trembling and—yeah—something had her rattled.

  “Fallyn, what’s wrong?”

  She flipped the hallway light, illuminating the interior of the townhouse.

  What the hell?

  The sunken living room, the space that less than 24 hours ago had nearly given him hives with its neatness, was trashed. Whoever had ripped through there did it with gusto.

  Cushions tossed, tables upended, photos knocked from walls. And the bookcase? That bastard had been cleared, its contents splashed across the gleaming hardwood floors. Books, DVDs, a few CDs, all of it merging into one hell of a mess.

  He set the coffee on the foyer side table and whipped back to her. “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know. Someone broke in. A man.”

  “Did you see him?”

  She shook her head. “Not really. Just shadows.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Two-ish. I took a bath, fell asleep, and woke up to someone coming up the stairs.”

  Pig that he was, a vision of Fallyn, her perfect rack and trim hips lounging bare-assed in a tub shattered his mind. Focus here, dummy.

  He stepped closer and she immediately inched back, reclaiming her personal space. She’d done that yesterday when he’d touched her, the whole thing a clear indication she did not like to be touched. Add that to his Fallyn checklist.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  She pointed up the stairs. “The creaking stairs woke me up. He came up to the bedroom.”

  “Did you call 911?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “I left my phone downstairs to charge and Heather didn’t keep a house phone in her bedroom. I grabbed the lamp so I’d have some kind of weapon.”

  Damned fool woman. He admired her spunk, but if the intruder were armed, she’d be riddled with bullet holes. And that would have left both twin sisters dead within 24 hours.

  He shook his head, but bit down and forced himself to keep his trap shut. Any comment he’d make, most likely, wouldn’t be a welcome one.

  “Hey,” she said, obviously cluing in to his disapproval. “I had to do something. I wasn’t going to lay there and let some thief rob my sister’s home.”

  “You could have gotten hurt.”

  She stared at him for a long second, but he’d be damned if he could read anything in her stony cheeks. She glanced away, took in the wall, the bannister, the steps before her gaze landed on the floor. Whatever caught her eye must have been fascinating because she stayed focused on it.

  “Fallyn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Look at me.”

  Finally, she looked up and—ah, dammit.

  Please, God, don’t let him have…

  His neck muscles coiled and locked. “Did he hurt you?”

  “It’s not bad.”

  “Crap.”

  She lifted her t-shirt revealing the start of a nasty blackish bruise.

  Tony gawked, brought his hands up, and gently touched the undamaged skin around it. “Mother fucker. He hit you?”

  When she drew back, he dropped his hands. “It’s worse than it looks. I got one good lick in with the lamp before…”

  If the bruise were the worst of it, they’d gotten lucky. Really lucky. “What happened? He didn’t—” Tony waved one hand.

  “Rape me? God no.”<
br />
  The tension in his neck blew apart and he ran one hand over his face, exhaled a couple of times to get his head straight.

  “He slammed my head against the nightstand. Pow! Lights out. I didn’t wake up until just a bit ago.”

  “Jesus!” Screw not touching her. She’d just gotten her ass kicked and he wasn’t supposed to touch her? The guy could have killed her.

  He closed in, put both hands on her head and gently turned her so he could take a look. She flinched and—bam—he let go. That fast. She didn’t like his hands on her. Was it him or any man in general?

  “It’s a lump,” she said. “That’s all.”

  “Any double vision?”

  “No.”

  “You sure? We should get it checked. Might be a concussion.”

  “No. I’m fine. It just…hurts. And I don’t have time for that. My sister’s funeral…my dad…I have things to do. I’m not letting this jerk get the best of me. Not when I intend to give my sister the service she deserves.” She waved her arms. “I don’t know who he is or what he wants, but the filth that did this will not take that from her. No way.”

  The woman had balls, an admirable sense of strength that wouldn’t let her be pushed around. A scrapper.

  He’d always been a fan of scrappy women. Ones who knew their power and how to get what they wanted, whatever that might be.

  “I get that,” he said. “But do you wanna crash in the middle of that service? You can make it perfect, but if you fall over, you’ll be miserable.”

  She hesitated, just stood there staring at him like he was the antichrist. It’d be a miracle if she didn’t toss him out on his ass. “I’m not going to the hospital.”

  “Didn’t say you had to. I’ll get someone to come here. While you’re getting checked, we get crime scene techs in here to process the place. Multitasking.”

  She rolled her eyes and snickered. “My God, you’re a pain in the ass, but I like it. Multitasking.”

  Another snicker.

  Oh, honey. She didn’t have a clue how true that ‘pain-in-the-ass’ label was.

  He held out his hands. “I won’t touch you. Just let me look at that bump again.”

  She dipped her head, let out a sigh. “Be gentle with me, big boy.”

  At that, he grunted. “Smartass.”

  “Can’t help it. Just so you know, you startled me before, that’s all. It’s not that I’m afraid of you.”

  So, all right. Allowed to touch her. Progress made in less than three minutes. He ran his thumb gently over the spot, itching to drop a kiss there.

  Uh, okay, that was weird. Since when did he want to kiss random Justice Team clients? This client though, something about her tugged at him. Her tough-as-nails persona and her grief inflicted vulnerability tapped into his protective instincts.

  For her, the whole situation stunk.

  Refusing to set her on edge with extended physical contact, he dropped his hands. “I’ll get someone over here. Anything missing?”

  “Not that I can tell. But Heather didn’t keep cash or credit cards laying around. Or her good jewelry. It was all locked in the safe. He tried to move it while I was passed out.”

  “What? How do you know?”

  “I checked it when I woke up. It’s in the bedroom closet and it’s heavy. Three hundred pounds at least and one of those stand-up floor models. There are dents in the carpet where he moved it.”

  Setting hands on his hips, Tony scanned the room, checking breach points, looking for damage, anything that would tell him how the guy got in. “Doors and locks all secure?”

  “Yes.”

  He waved at the keypad near the front door. “Alarm?”

  “I can’t remember if I set it.”

  He raised his eyebrows. Seriously? She couldn’t remember?

  “I know,” she said. “Believe me, I know. But, I’m going through something here. My sister, my twin just died and I’m not tracking right. So sue me because I forgot to set the goddamned alarm.”

  Yow. Consider him put in his place. “Hey, I’m a cop. I worry about shit like that.” He picked up the coffee, handed it to her. “Peace offering.”

  She snatched the cup like it contained lifesaving drugs. “Thank you.”

  “Did you call the cops?”

  “Not yet. I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “I’ll call Grey. See what he thinks. Being she was a senator, this might be FBI jurisdiction. The guy could have been looking for anything. Trashing the place might have been a diversion or he didn’t know where to look. Could be a random break-in. Heather’s…” He stopped. Checked himself. She didn’t necessarily need to hear the word death. “Heather has been in the news. Someone may have figured the house was empty and easy pickings.”

  Sick as it was, he’d seen it. People preying on the dead and robbing their homes immediately after their passing. Not only did loved ones struggle with grief, they had to figure out what was missing and file insurance claims.

  “If it was random,” she said, “someone has a solid set of brass ones to rob the home of a deceased U.S. senator.”

  She was right. Pulling this job would take the king of all idiots. Which, hey, it was DC. Plenty of candidates for the throne in this town. “Makes me think whoever this guy was, he knew what he was looking for. And it’s valuable enough that he tried to move a 300-pound safe.”

  “And guess what was in that safe?”

  “Heather’s tablet?”

  “Yep. Now do you see why I wouldn’t let you take it yesterday? Whatever is on that thing is important to someone and they know it’s here.”

  Chapter Four

  The cops and CSIs went through everything thoroughly and Fallyn hoped to hear back from them by the next day about fingerprints or DNA. Meanwhile, the house was a crime scene and she was being booted out.

  While she’d originally planned to head back to New York after the funeral, that was looking like an impossibility. She had to pack up Heather’s things and get as much in order as she could for her dad to handle, but now she couldn’t get back into the townhouse until the police and investigators cleared it. They promised to do it quickly, but Fallyn knew how these things went. She’d be lucky to get back in here before the week was over.

  Tony insisted on taking the tablet to Justice Team headquarters and turning it over to their computer geek. Tablet or no tablet, he was staying so close to her, she’d barely gotten her clothes on without him in the general vicinity. As she packed up her belongings, she could hear his low, deep voice from downstairs. It relaxed her.

  Having Tony around wasn’t exactly a hardship. Especially with her father, Jordan, and Carl all breathing down her neck. They’d been outraged when she’d informed them about the break-in and her injury, even though she’d insisted she was all right and perpetuated the idea that it was simply a burglar who’d seen the news about Heather’s death and was looking for an easy score.

  Never mind that the burglar didn’t actually take anything that she could account for. The tablet had to stay a secret for now, although she wouldn’t be surprised if Jordan had told Carl about the tablet in passing. The two were very close and shared everything.

  She had calls to make and errands to run. And breakfast. She needed something besides coffee in her stomach.

  As she went downstairs, she hauled her overnight bag in one hand and briefcase in the other. Tony spoke on his cell in the kitchen. As she entered the room, he turned his back on her, lowering his already quiet voice. “Yes, Amber, I know it’s Mom’s sixtieth birthday. I told you, I’ll be at the party on Sunday.” A pause. “I have a new client. Things may not be wrapped up by then, but I’ll move heaven and earth to be there.”

  He lifted his gaze to the ceiling, rubbing his temples with his free hand. “Of course, it’s important. I wouldn’t miss Mom’s birthday if it weren’t. Look, I’ve got to go, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow, and as things stand, I will be home on Sunday.”

  He discon
nected, stowing the phone as he avoided her eyes. “Sorry. Family business.”

  “No apology necessary, Mr. Gerard.” She set her bag down and tried to catch his eye. He stared out the window over the sink, scanning the area as if expecting a gang of bad guys to suddenly emerge. “I understand all about family.”

  “Tony.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s Tony. When you say Mr. Gerard, I feel like my grandfather.”

  “Got it. Tony it is.”

  He picked up her bag and headed for the door. “I heard you tell the detective in charge that you had errands to run this morning. Where to first?”

  “You’re going with me?”

  “I’m driving.”

  Well, well. How interesting. “You don’t have to babysit me. I know my way around DC.”

  He retrieved her coat from the front closet and helped her put it on. “You’re a public figure right now with your face all over the news. Best to have some security in place.”

  He was being polite but she heard the tone in his voice that told her she wasn’t getting rid of him.

  Good. She didn’t want to. It was nice having someone to talk to. Someone whose personality and style matched her own.

  Locking up, she followed him to his car at the curb. In the distance, a reporter snapped her picture. Tony saw it too. He was about to go into ass-kicking mode when she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “Let it be. I need breakfast.”

  He guided her into the seat of his Ford Explorer and she laid her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes as he made his way to the driver’s side. It smelled like him in here. Musky with a hint of citrus.

  “So I’m a client now?” she asked when he got in. “When did that happen?”

  He buckled, checked his rearview. “Teeg’s initial visit and clearing the reporters from the lawn were freebies. A favor for Caroline. As for me and my services? The minute you called me this morning and asked for help, I was on the clock. Grey will bill you.”

  Some kind of business Justice Greystone was running. “No forms to fill out? No down payment?”

  Tony drove away from the brownstone, merging with traffic a minute later. “Boss man doesn’t like to leave a paper trail. From what I understand, services rendered vary from client to client. No set fee. And, no, we don’t require a down payment like Pasche & Associates. This gig is new to me, but apparently once Grey has decided to help you, we take you on good faith.”