I Am Justice (Black Ops Confidential 1)
He smoothed a knuckle across her cheek. “You okay?”
Was he kidding? “I love this couch.”
He barked a surprised laugh, helped her up, turned her to face him. He kissed her long and deep, then put his hands on her shoulders, pulled back from the kiss, and turned her toward what she assumed was the bedroom door.
He bent to her ear, smacked her on the ass. “Get going. I’m going to teach you what getting up at a decent hour means.”
Her ass tingling, she looked back at him. “A little bossy now.”
“Get into my bed, Justice.”
She shrugged. Turned out, right now, she liked bossy.
Chapter 42
With the curtains drawn and dim light in his bedroom, it was hard for Sandesh to imagine a more perfect morning. Not every day a hot woman broke into your apartment building, asked to be let inside, and ordered you to: “Ride me hard.”
Got hard just thinking about it. Then again, she wasn’t just any woman. She was one of a kind. And his heart was as tangled up with her as she was in his sheets.
Justice, deep in the softness of his bed, snuggled up to him, her lips to his ear, whispering soft sounds of appreciation. Not that his ego needed that, but he liked making her happy. His eyes drifted closed and his body relaxed.
“Why Sandman?”
He pried open his sleepy eyes. “Huh?”
“You said they called you that in the military. Sandman.”
He yawned. She was so warm against him. Felt good. “Are you a morning person?”
“Yeah. Didn’t you notice that in Israel?”
“That room was so dark I lost track of night and day. We barely ate.”
“True.” She began to rub a hand across his chest. “Answer the question. Why Sandman?”
He turned his head toward her. Her eyes were velvet night sky. A deep dark that demanded soft confessions. He couldn’t fight it. What man could? “Remember when I said in Israel that I liked you?”
She smiled. “I believe you said you liked me a lot. Maybe more than any woman ever.”
He cupped the back of her head, pulling her close enough that their foreheads touched. “No maybe, Justice. None. I’ve never felt this way before about anyone. Ever.”
“Oh.” They were so close, he could feel his own breath mixing with hers. She kissed him softly. “You’re my speed dial number one.”
He smiled. He knew just what she was telling him. No one used speed dial anymore. It was symbolic. “Sandman,” he said, closing his eyes, “because you can sleep easy if I’m on guard duty. Got great hearing. If something’s out there, I’ll know about it way in advance.”
“Funny, I thought it was because you liked to sleep. You seem really sleepy right now.”
Oh. Man. “You’re not going back to sleep, are you?”
He felt her shrug. “I have a traitor to catch. Kind of hard to sleep.”
That woke him. “Anything new?”
“I got news from internal security this morning. A secure email sent around four a.m. There was no electronic trail or any evidence that someone in the family had asked for GPS information on me.”
He brushed a hand along her shoulder. “Meaning?”
“In order to get GPS information, you have to go through three layers of security: password, the inserted chip, and facial recognition. There is no evidence that anyone in the family did that.”
He knew what she was getting at. She’d told him that her sister Gracie was into computers. She ran a cyber-crime unit all on her own from her club. The information she obtained was used to rescue girls and track down predators. “You think it’s Gracie.”
“She’d be the only person with the ability to do something like that.”
“What’s your plan?”
“I want to interview her. This morning. And I was hoping you’d come.”
Gracie was not a fan of his. Probably the point. “You think I’ll throw her off?”
“That and you might spot things I might miss. Same with the rest of my family. But I’d like to tag team them.”
“Meaning?”
“I’ll hit them first, this afternoon. You come by for dinner later and take a second crack at them.”
It would be as good a place as any to start. “Okay.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’m up. Is it sexist to ask you to make me coffee?”
She squinted at him. “This isn’t a situation where I can’t, so no. And, baby, after triple mind-blowing orgasms, I’m pretty eager to please. Coffee, no problem.”
He laughed, reached over to the nightstand. “Go. Make coffee. I’m putting you as my speed dial number one.”
Chapter 43
Justice pulled into the parking lot behind Club When? and hit the brakes. Maybe a little too quickly.
In the seat beside her, Sandesh jerked. The coffee in his hand spilled onto his suit pants.
Whoops. “Aw, and I took such care getting you clean during our shower.”
Heat flushed his face as he placed his cup in the cup holder, leaned back, and wiped at his pants. “I’d think you’d worry more about the suit you insisted I wear.”
“Suggested not insisted. And trust me, if you’re coming to the house later for dinner, you’ll be glad to be in a suit. Momma does not mess around with that stuff.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Beyond Sandesh, through the window, sat Gracie’s car. He must’ve caught her looking at the white, hail-damaged Ford Fusion. He hitched a thumb toward it. “Gracie’s?”
“Yeah.” She hated that her voice sounded so hurt. But it did hurt. All of this hurt. “You know, we used to be best friends. We shared a room together, our first drink together, our first sneak out of the house. Not an easy thing when you have armed guards around your home.”
“What happened between you?”
“The Tasmanian Devil, a.k.a. Gracie’s bio-mom, came back into her life and took her here, to the club. They started and ran the club together. After that, Gracie was different. Now, she hates taking money from Momma, even for the work she does. Reason number one to suspect her.”
“Actually, I’d say that falls second to the other thing you told me. About her ex running away after finding out about your family.”
Justice halted with one leg out the open door. “Yeah. Coming from a family of vigilantes limits the dating pool.”
Sandesh snorted. He climbed out of the Jeep and strolled with her across the gravel to the back of the club. She liked the feel of him at her side. It was nice.
Though it was barely eleven, the club was already open for lunch. An eighties Prince song pounded out into the lot.
Sandesh didn’t seem to be a fan. He dug at his ears. “Prince?”
“Club When? changes musical eras every six weeks, so you might not know until you get inside what decade or date or Boston Tea Party you’ll find. It must be the eighties this time.”
He nodded, getting it.
The music, which had sounded loud outside, hit her with a punch once inside the small, crate-stacked back corridor. Her eardrums pulsed with base vibrations. And her stomach rumbled at the smell of fried onion rings and fish.
Justice expertly avoided the food-carrying waitress, and with Sandesh following, rounded the corner toward the upstairs offices.
She bit into a steamy onion ring. Sandesh looked at her. “How did you get…?” He trailed off as she offered him the rest of the onion ring.
With a shrug, he took and ate it. She put her code into the steel number pad by the security door. It beeped. She waved her wrist and her newly implanted chip over the pad. It beeped, and a shrill warning sounded.
She motioned to Sandesh’s wrist. “You have to do the same. It reads the number of people out here and won’t open if everyone doesn’t have clearance.”
S
till chewing, a lot less cheerful, he put up his wrist. The pad beeped again and clicked.
She pulled the door open with a heave that brought her onto her heels. The steel-plated, heavy-as-a-tomb door crashed shut behind them.
“Blast proof?”
Dude did not miss a trick.
“Yeah.”
All club sounds went silent. Their footfalls echoed up the stairs.
At the top, they entered a hallway. A series of steel security doors lined with security cameras. Information systems, computers, and servers for the underground railroad and its operations were behind those doors.