Tempting Justice, Sons of Sydney 2

by Fiona Archer

  London turned back, the remembered sensation of his fingers on her wrists stronger than that of his cuffs. She mentally shook herself. Nitwit. Her immediate goal should be making her escape with as much dignity as possible, not thinking about the kind of things that could only lead her into trouble.

  “Thank you.” Was it good manners to thank a detective for removing his handcuffs? Next time she embarked on a harebrained project, she would check first with the criminal underworld to confirm specifics.

  Pity she didn’t have any criminal contacts.

  Another item on her ‘To Do’ list. Make friends with the kind of people her brothers arrested.

  “London.” Derek’s impatient tone cut through her internal chatter.

  “Derek.” She sighed. “Look, this is a simple misunderstanding.”

  Her oldest brother nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “Okay, then explain to me what you were doing.”

  “I was conducting research.”

  “Research?” Heath gave her a look of disbelief.

  “Yes,” she snapped, flicking her gaze to the cop. “I’m a writer.” She allowed herself a zing of satisfaction as his surprised expression. “I needed to know how easily I could jimmy a lock on a door.”

  Turned out it wasn’t easy at all. At least not at first.

  Derek shook his head. “Honey, why didn’t you just ask one of us to show you?”

  “Because it would defeat the point. I needed to sneak in without being caught.”

  “And how did that work out for you?” Heath murmured.

  “Hey, an author suffers for her craft.” She aimed for flippant in her tone, but the implications of her encounter weren’t lost on her.

  In fact, if it wasn’t for Derek vouching for her, she’d likely be down at the station getting booked right about now.

  But that’s what research was all about—getting a real feel for the situation. She took her writing seriously. Now, faced with deciding whether to gamble her career on a possible huge change in her writing, even more rode on her professionalism.

  “Hiya kids, don’t you love these mornings?”

  Everyone turned to face the front of the driveway. London’s grandma, her short red hair teased to within a screaming inch of its life, powerwalked toward them. The purple shade of her hoodie and sweatpants matched her batwing eyeglasses, which sparkled courtesy of three rows of pink sequins on each wing. And her neon pink trainers?

  They freaking rocked.

  “Hey, Gran, looking good.” London moved past Heath and kissed the older woman’s cheek.

  “Feeling good, sweetie.” Gran winked.

  London chuckled and made way for Derek who wrapped one arm around the older woman and bent low to kiss her cheek.

  Greetings from her grandchildren completed, Estelle’s sharp gaze fixed on the stranger. “Hey there.” Her mouth stretched into a bright smile. “I’m Estelle Shaw.” She tilted her head to the side and held out her hand.

  London pressed her lips together to hide her smile. Gran was known for her harmless flirting. How would the cop react?

  Heath stepped forward, amusement shining in his gaze as he held her hand. “Morning, Mrs. Shaw.” The older woman’s smile widened at the sound of his accent. “I’m Heath Justice, Derek’s partner.”

  Detective Justice. What a great name for the cop.

  “Hot diggity Dundee. Call me Estelle, honey.” She turned to her grandson. “You boys staying for breakfast?”

  “Yes.” Derek started to steer Gran toward the back of the house. “Let’s head inside before Mom sends Dad out to search for us.”

  “Go ahead.” Heath nodded toward the road. “I’ll meet you inside. I left the thermos in the car before I began my hot pursuit.”

  His gaze swept over London, and her mind immediately pictured Heath stalking her down the driveway like she was some tasty prey. She bit her lip and forced herself not to look away.

  Estelle nodded to Heath. “London, go with him so he knows the way.”

  London blinked at her gran, catching the woman’s not-so-innocent smile before she left with Derek. God help her. Refusing would be rude, not to mention she didn’t want to appear as if Heath intimated her. She pasted on her best hostess smile and walked beside Heath down the driveway, then waited at the front gate as Heath went to the driver’s side of his Black SUV.

  Seconds later, he returned, thermos in hand. She smiled her thanks as Heath opened the gate for her. As they neared the front door, she asked, “Have you visited here before?”

  Heath reached forward and opened the door, but didn’t make a move to urge her inside. “I got as far as your parents’ foyer this morning before I went back for the thermos.” His eyes locked with hers. “Then I saw you.”

  And caught her. Cuffed her. Patted her down. And held her so, so firmly.

  “Right.” She cursed the strangled sound of her voice and cleared her throat. Walking inside the house, her glance fell on the various family portraits decorating the hallway. “Here’s the family.”

  Heath scanned the photos in various black frames, smiling at one of them, which had been taken on a Christmas morning. The five kids, lined up in their pj’s, were standing in front of the decorated tree, each holding a treasured present. “You guys had a happy childhood.”

  Her gaze flicked from the photo up to his face. His voice sounded…wistful.

  “We did. It was amazing.” She turned her gaze back to the photo. “Grandpa Shaw passed shortly after I was born, but I had years with Mom’s parents, and Grandma Shaw lives here now. Plus, having four brothers wasn’t always bad, but don’t tell them I said that. I miss Cooper and Liam. They live out of state.” She faced Heath. “Do you have any brothers?”

  A shadow fell over his features. London swore she glimpsed pain in his gaze before he answered softly, “Yeah. Three.” He stepped back, his manner stiff. No, not stiff. More...guarded. Whatever thoughts had run through his mind at her question were off limits to outsiders.

  “Oh.” Lost for anything else to say, she turned and led Heath toward the kitchen, thankful for the distraction that greeted them as her family chatted while her mom placed a platter filled with pancakes in the middle of the kitchen table.

  “Hey, you guys made it.” Her mom came forward, placing a kiss on London’s cheek, and waved to the two seats left vacant on one side of the breakfast nook.

  Her dad rose from his seat at the far end. “Hi, sweetheart. Didn’t anyone tell you you’re supposed to sneak out of the house when you’re sixteen, not try to break in at twenty-eight?”

  So Derek blabbed. She guessed her getting caught was too good a morsel not to share.

  London rolled her eyes at her family’s good-natured laughter and hugged her dad. At fifty-seven, Kieran Shaw was fire chief for the local station and looked as healthy as men twenty years his junior.

  While Derek, Cooper, and Liam took after their mom in coloring, she and Aiden, the brother one year older than her, had their dad’s auburn hair and green eyes.

  She made quick introductions for Heath and her dad.

  “Sit, sit. The food’s getting cold.” Her mom shooed them to the chairs and sat at the end opposite her husband.

  Coffee was poured, pancakes served, and soon, the sounds of people enjoying their breakfast joined the easy conversation over the table.

  All the while, London was aware of the man sitting next to her. The occasional brush of his arm against hers, the faint note of spice in his aftershave, and the sound of his voice teased her senses. Try as she might to keep her concentration on those at the table, her gaze kept drifting to his hands. Big, strong hands, complete with a couple of scars on his knuckles. Had he been in a few fights, or was he a guy who liked DIY?

  “Heath, you’re from Sydney?” her dad asked in between bites of pancake.

  “Yeah.” Heath lifted up his mug and sipped.

  “I have a brother who was in the Navy. Visited Sydney in ’92. Always wanted t
o go back. Reckon he and his wife, and Joanna and me will make it in a few years. Retirement present.”

  “You’ll love it, I’m sure.” Heath set down his mug and picked up his fork. “And ignore all the horror stories of everything that can kill you. If it was so dangerous, no Aussies would have survived.”

  London chuckled, well aware of the various memes on Facebook showing pictures of the Aussie bush and statements warning of the thousands of unseen, lethal predators.

  “Do you have family back over there, Heath?” her mom asked.

  Heath flicked his gaze to Derek.

  Her brother shrugged. “All I’ve said was you were an Aussie.”

  Turning to see her mom’s confused expression, Heath’s smile was fleeting, his words devastating. “My family died in a car accident when I was thirteen.”

  London stilled in her chair. Her family stared at Heath, no doubt as shocked as she.

  He kept talking. “I stayed with my uncle for a few months, then he died of a heart attack, and I became a ward of the state.” He lifted one shoulder. “I met a couple of guys around my age. Adam and Zach. We looked out for each other. Then the youngest, Seth, joined us. About a year on, we saved a kid, an American tourist, from drowning on a beach in Sydney. His mother, Aurora Justice, got to know us, arranged our adoption, and we moved to America.”

  London blinked. Heath had spoken in such a matter-of-fact tone, yet each sentence fell like mini bombshells dropped on the table.

  Thirteen? Losing your family, and then your uncle? Was there nobody else left? And what did he mean, ‘we looked out for each other’? Did they run away? Live in a foster home together?

  London looked down at her plate, acutely aware of sitting there with her family, who loved her, protected her, and were a safety net she’d always taken for granted as being there whenever she needed them.

  A family maybe like the one Heath had lost, and then regained—just a different kind.

  “I’m guessing the experience made for strong bonds between brothers.” Grandma Shaw’s gaze was direct and her tone gentle as she addressed Heath.

  He studied her grandmother before one corner of his mouth lifted up. “It does, Estelle.”

  Her dad leaned his elbows on the table, earning him a censuring stare, which he ignored, from his wife. “So you all came here, made new lives for yourselves.”

  “We did. Our mum passed away seven years ago.” Heath sucked in a breath. “And her son, Dillon, died this past month. It’s just the four of us now.”

  Oh, no! A month ago? He would have been close to Heath’s age. An illness? “I’m sorry for your loss.” The words came out before she knew it, but she wanted him to know…to know she felt for him. “Both of them.”

  Heath looked down at his plate. Emotion thickened the deep rumble of his voice. “Thank you.”

  Her family exchanged glances, Derek shook his head. A warning to leave the subject alone? Her mom took her cue from her brother. “So America’s your home now, Heath.”

  “Yeah. I plan to go back to Oz for a visit someday. I’ve got a house in Green Lake. Home is Seattle.”

  “Did you hear that, London?” Her gran smiled at her, likely trying to lighten the mood. “You two are practically neighbors.”

  She glanced at Heath. “In Green Lake?”

  “Four bedroom Craftsman I’m renovating with my brothers. Nearly finished.”

  DIY.

  “That’s so cool.”

  “London lives in my old house,” Gran shared as she forked some pancake. “I didn’t want to sell after my fall. London’s lease was about to end, so it was a good match.”

  Rent-free with only the cost of utilities, taxes and her own expenses, the three bedroom yellow and white house with its chocolate box detailing was a gem.

  Heath turned his head to look directly at her. “You write full-time?”

  “Yes. My last series did well, which allowed me to take a break from teaching.” All five books in her YA romance series had made the bestseller lists.

  Which made her decision on her next series even more risky. One she hadn’t yet shared with her family.

  “Why did you have to research jimmying a lock?” Her dad sipped his coffee. “Your high-school football heroes aren’t normally burglars on the side.”

  Her stomach tensed. Oh boy.

  “My new series isn’t about high-school football heroes.” She flicked a glance around the table. “At least, not for now. I’m trying something new. Mystery and suspense.”

  Her mom blinked. “That’s quite a change.”

  “I know.” She forced herself not to rush out an explanation. This was her decision. She needed to have faith in herself. “It’s actually been a long time in coming. By the time I finished the latest series, I felt like taking a break from YA.”

  “But it’s what you’re known for.” Her dad lowered his mug to the table. “What is it, eight books now?”

  Hearing aloud the risk she was taking didn’t help the swarm of nerves twisting and turning in her stomach. “In total, yeah. And you’re right. It’s a gamble, and I don’t know if my readers will follow, but I’ll find new ones.” Hopefully.

  “YA?” Heath asked.

  “Young adult,” London explained. “My stories feature teenagers in a romance. Think Romeo and Juliet with a happy ending.”

  “What did your agent say?” Her mom held her knife and fork. She’d stopped eating, her attention fixed on London.

  “Gloria thinks I should write a new YA series.” She could still hear her agent’s voice over the phone line. ‘You have a track record as a YA author. Don’t throw that away on a whim.’ And she liked getting her commission. London could be cynical, but fifteen percent of a possible bestseller was more appealing than fifteen percent of a career-risking new series. “She wants me to rethink my decision and let her know before the book signing next Wednesday.” Rory’s Girl had been released a month ago. It spent three weeks on bestseller lists and was a massive hit.

  Derek frowned. “Why the deadline?”

  “My publisher wants me to sign an offer on a series I’d planned over a year ago.” Back when she still felt the fire to write YA romance. “I was of two minds when I discussed the series with Gloria. She had talks with my editor regarding another author and happened to mention my idea. They want the series.” And had been pressuring Gloria for the last month. Since her agent was based in New York, London had avoided a meeting, but their phone conversations had become tense in the last couple of weeks.

  “But that’s not what you want,” said a deep voice on her right.

  London turned her head toward Heath. “No, I don’t think it is.” Another YA series, four or five books, taking over two years of her life?

  Heath’s intense gaze held hers. She saw no judgment. He took her words at face value. “Never let others make your big decisions for you. Not when your happiness is at stake. Only you should be in control of those choices.”

  She was the one accountable. Heath was right. His words centered her, grounded her. Yes, the decision was hers, and sure, she hadn’t made up her mind completely, but she would.

  London took a breath, and for now, the tightness in her stomach lessened.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.” She gave him a small smile, one filled with gratitude as much as relief.

  Heath lifted his chin before he faced front and sipped his coffee.

  “Mystery and suspense. I think that’s fabulous.” Gran’s smile lit up her face. “Go for it, sweetie. What would life be without embracing new challenges?”

  “Thanks, Gran.” She’d make sure to give this fabulous woman a hug when she left the table.

  Her dad grabbed his mug of coffee. “Your ma and I are gonna worry. We’re parents. Concern for your kids is part of the contract, but…” His somewhat resigned smile matched his words. “…we’re behind you whatever choice you make, kiddo.”

  “Amen.” Her mom smiled at London as she forked
some eggs.

  “You’ve got to be happy, sis.” Derek spread butter on a slice of toast. “Tell us about this new book you’re researching.”

  And that was that. Her family had heard her out, relayed their concerns, and in the end, they supported her. She blinked back a rush of emotion and answered her brother’s question.

  “It centers on a female lead.” She sat back in her chair, warming to the subject. “A divorced mom in her forties. Her neighbor’s been murdered, and since the cops won’t listen to her about what she saw, she starts investigating.”

  “Can you reveal what happens at the end, or is it a secret?” Heath teased.

  The end? She blinked. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  The big Aussie stared at her a second before a slight frown crossed his forehead. “You don’t know?”

  “Nope.” She shrugged. “I plot a few chapters and then let my characters take over.”

  Surprise flickered in his gaze. “How can you write without knowing the ending? Doesn’t that lead to confusion?”

  The tone of disbelief in his voice needled her good mood. “Confusion leads to creative thinking and questioning what’s assumed over what can be.”

  “You prefer chaos?” He lifted a brow as if daring her to say yes. “Order, method, and control get results without drama.”

  Drama? She straightened in her chair. “Some people settle for boring predictability; I want to live a little.”

  Yes, she was challenging him.

  A gleam entered Heath’s gaze, sending tingles over her skin. “I could show you how control wins over drama. But then I’d be proving you wrong.”

  Those tingles gathered, went lower. Her pulse quickened. No way would she give in now. “An ambitious statement for a man who hardly knows me.”

  The corner of his mouth kicked up.

  So, not turned off by a woman who threw some sass.

  The sharp ring of Heath’s phone sliced into their banter. With a muttered excuse, he took the call. Within moments, his expression turned serious. He stood, directed a look at Derek, and gave clipped answers into the phone. Her brother rose from his chair as Heath ended his call.