True Justice
Page 6
“Hear that, minions. You get to keep me safe.”
Ivan pulled extra ceramic panels for their Kevlar out of his bag and handed them to each man.
That said it all.
She was amused.
“Let’s try and keep it to a minimum,” Ethan stated. “Let’s not have a shootout in Vegas.”
Ivan held up a fifty.
Then so did Heath.
Wilcox, as usual, disapproved.
“Gambling is a sin.”
“Newsflash, Jesus two-point-oh-no, we’re in ‘Sin City’. I’m going to fornicate like a drunk teenager after the prom,” she said, trying to make him crack.
He clucked at her in disagreement.
Ethan stopped him.
“Since I’ll be her partner in that, say nothing,” he warned. “If you change her mind, I’ll be cranky.”
Wilcox couldn’t help himself.
He laughed.
“I’ve got it, sir. No turning the wife frigid.”
Ivan opened his mouth and Ethan pointed at him in warning. He knew the man. This was right up his alley.
He closed his mouth.
The touchdown was smooth, as always, and before they knew it, they were at a complete stop and the pilot opened the cockpit door to tell them they could disembark.
Their ‘team’ grabbed their gear.
Before heading out, Elizabeth took her husband’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. She knew how much time she was taking up with having him go to the police station with her. She knew it would be more stress on his shoulders.
Still, he did it.
That was love.
“Does Croft know you’re coming?” he asked as they headed off the jet.
“Nope. I figured that they had to be busy this week with getting Natasha Gideon’s funeral handled. I’m going to head to his place after I pull this case from the cops. I can only imagine how they’re feeling right about now.”
He could only imagine.
They headed across the tarmac.
There was a tricked-out ride waiting for them. Ivan caught the keys and hopped behind the wheel to do the driving. Elizabeth and Ethan got in the back and waited for him to head out.
“LVPD? Or do you need coffee?” he asked.
“LVPD. I’m good,” she said.
Ethan agreed as he put on his tie.
Ivan dropped his glasses on and punched in the name to pull up the address.
“On it, boss.”
They headed there, and the whole time, Elizabeth leaned against her husband and nuzzled him. She couldn't help herself. He smelled really good, and he was in a power suit.
“Later, we’ll have dinner and spend some time together. Alone,” he stated, whispering in his wife’s ear. “I packed something sexy for my badass wife.”
She ran her fingers up his thigh.
“Deal.”
She sealed it with a kiss. It was heated, warm, and something they always did anymore. Since Ethan had been working on his temper, he was more affectionate, less worried about people’s opinions, and more about his wife.
She was good with that.
As they kissed, the men around them ignored it. They knew if the boss was making out with his wife, they were to keep it shut. There was a time and a place for busting ass.
This was NOT the place.
Once they both started working, time would be limited for these moments, and they all knew it.
As they pulled up to the police station, the media was already there and ready to make their lives a living, miserable hell on Earth.
“How the hell?” Ivan muttered, checking out the lunatics with cameras and microphones.
There were so damn many of them.
Elizabeth smiled from her spot in the back seat. That right there clued Ivan in.
“Son of a bitch!” he muttered. “You alerted them.”
She did.
“Why the hell would you do that?” he asked.
“I need them to know why I’m here to cover with working with the Crofts. I want them to know I’m in town. I also want to buy us some media coverage so Viktor Marchenko knows that the shit is about to go down.”
Ethan touched her cheek.
He didn’t like it, but he was pretty sure this was going to be the tamest move by his wife. She was in ass-kicking mode.
“You had better be careful,” he warned, pulling out Callen’s list again.
It made her laugh.
“I married crazies.”
“Promise me…”
Ethan waited.
“I promise to be careful.”
NO ONE bought that.
She chased crazies for a living. She had intel. She was going to make sure the man who was buying girls didn’t get to have any more fun at the expense of young girls’ lives, and that the people selling them were shut down too.
This jackassery was done.
There was a new sheriff in town, and she was going to help get this all back on track.
When Ivan rolled to a stop, security was out first and into positions. While they busted ass and joked around when they were safe, when they weren’t…yeah, they took it damn seriously. The looks on their faces said it all to the media.
If they were fucked with, it would go down.
They got the doors open, and then made sure no one got too close to Elizabeth or Ethan. Ivan had her flank, Wilcox had the deputy director, and Heath, the tank, had the point. It was his job to clear the path.
As they headed in, the questions were being shouted at them.
“Are you here to work a case?” someone shouted.
So began her plan.
“Yes.”
“What one?” the same reporter asked.
She kept moving, making them wait a few seconds. Timing was everything with the media. She was going to make sure they were on her timeline, not theirs.
“The FBI is taking over a bombing case that has crossed state lines. We have been alerted and it’s about to be handled by our team.”
That seemed to catch everyone off guard.
“You deal with serial killers. Are you saying there’s one here?” some reporter asked.
She smiled.
“Yes.”
Ethan lifted a brow.
What the hell was his wife doing?
“Who is it?”
“His name is Viktor Marchenko, and he’s wanted for the murder of a slew of people,” she said, pulling out a paper with the ONLY picture they had of the man.
The media went nuts at how she was easily giving them information. That should have been a clue that something bigger was going on. Elizabeth didn’t share jack shit with anyone involving a case.
Ethan stared at her.
She’d just tossed the shit in the air, and it was about to fall down on her and her team.
And off the Crofts.
“We’ll be handling it,” she stated. “Along with some sex trafficking,” she stated. “Vegas is a mess.”
That one, she said nothing about.
Let them dig.
Let the mole see it on the news and panic. Someone had been doing the FBI a discredit, and the people of Vegas, by helping the sex traffickers stay one step ahead of the good guys.
The mayhem began now.
With that admission, they headed into the building, leaving the reporters to scurry away to make sure they got their bylines into the news before anyone else.
Inside, she was pleased.
“Well, we’re going to be killed,” Ivan stated. “Here I thought I’d actually get to be married one day.”
She laughed.
“He’s not gunning for us, but now, he knows we’re gunning for him. This will buy time for the Crofts. Trust me. This is how I run my show.”
“And the last part?”
“Whoever helped the traffickers will be all kinds of freaked out. When rats get scared, what do they do?” she asked.
“They bail ship,” Ethan added.
Yeah, and made her a target.
He wasn’t an idiot.
Now he knew why Callen gave him a list. She was one of the craziest people out there, and here was their proof. She’d just pointed a KGB killer at herself.
Why?
For shits and giggles.
Who did that?
In the main area of the LVPD, they were stopped by the man behind the desk.
“Can we help you?” he asked.
She pulled her badge, and so did Ethan. They knew the man had to know who they were. God knew they were on countless rag tabloids, TV shows, and everything else. The only two people who were just as recognizable in Vegas were Croft and his wife.
“He’s the deputy director, and I’m his wife, Director Elizabeth Blackhawk. We need to see the commissioner immediately.”
He pointed toward the elevator, and it was opening.
Low and behold, here came the man.
And now the men behind her also knew why she told the media their plans—the real reason—she wanted Commissioner Raye’s attention.
And from how he scurried their way, she had it. He was hustling toward her and he didn’t look happy about it.
Well, her day was officially made.
“Deputy Director Blackhawk! What a pleasure it is to have you here! To what do I owe this very pleasant surprise?” Jeffrey Raye gushed.
It made Elizabeth want to poke his eyes out.
The man rushed right past her like she was some powerful man’s arm candy. Uh, this was her rodeo, and he was the clown who was about to get the horns.
Well, that pissed her off.
Ethan shook his hand.
He knew what the man was doing. He was playing it up to him, and that wasn’t going to fly.
Not happening.
“We have business to attend to, Commissioner Raye.”
“Pardon?” he asked, sweat on his upper lip.
Ethan knew the man was well aware. He was trying to head them off and dig for intel.
Yeah, that wouldn’t work.
“For the details, you need to ask my wife. This is her rodeo.”
The man turned, and she moved toward him, making sure to tower over him and intimidate him as much as she possibly could. Oh, she knew all about him.
From reports.
Her husband.
The Crofts.
Here was the king rat, and she looked forward to him bailing from the ship.
“I’m taking over the Natasha Gideon case,” she said. “Get the files and I’ll get out of your hair.”
He was as bald as the day was long.
Ivan had to cover his inadvertent laugh with a cough. He couldn’t help it. Elizabeth said nothing without purpose. She was throwing down some psychological warfare.
Commissioner Raye, immediately, looked worried.
That told her everything she needed to know about the man and the corruption in the city.
“But I…”
She stopped him.
“She was blown up by an international terrorist. This is out of the scope of what you can handle. Let’s go get them. I don’t have time for this.”
“But we have one of our best detectives on it. Poppy Wayne…”
She stopped him.
“Is no longer handling this. I am. If you want me to personally keep you in the loop, you’ll stop before you make me angry.”
He didn’t want that.
He didn’t need that.
Commissioner Raye led them to the Homicide division, and once inside, he headed to his detective’s desk. He pulled the file and handed it to her. There was that speculative look from all the detectives.
“Uh, what are you doing?” Detective Hunter Dietrich asked as they touched the things on his partner’s desk.
“Director Blackhawk is taking over the Gideon case,” he said. “Hand over your information.”
He followed orders, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.
Raye made a mental note to tell his detectives to keep working it—off the record.
“Thank you. I’m also going to be working another case here in Vegas. Do you have anything on women being trafficked?” she asked.
The detective shook his head. “I have Jane Does, but that’s normal in Vegas.”
The commissioner shook his head.
Well, it was worth a try.
“You’ll keep me in the loop?” he asked.
Ethan cut this one off.
“You can get information from Director Robert Lee,” he offered, knowing the man had been playing some bad games with the FBI. It involved vans, stakeouts, and breaking the law. Oh, his director wouldn't be telling him jack shit. “While he is still with the FBI.”
That said it all.
“Oh, okay,” he said, looking shit scared.
That told Ethan everything he needed to know about his director. The man was playing games with the commissioner. He’d bet money on it.
Elizabeth flipped through the file and then knew it was time to blow that place.
“Don’t worry, Commissioner, we’ll tell the media you’ve been helpful,” she said, heading toward the doorway with her husband. Security was outside the doorway, making sure they were safe.
The man sputtered like a teakettle.
Yeah, she loved her job.
Once outside, she linked hands with her husband as they prepared to work their way back through the media.
“I’m glad you said your director could handle the updates,” she admitted. “I’m not. I’m not telling him jack shit.”
Ethan laughed.
Oh, well, he was aware.
“Unfortunately, I wasn’t kidding. Lee won’t be of much help.”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked.
“Because he’s fired as soon as I arrive there, and I’m betting he’ll be waiting for me.”
She laughed.
“I thought you were just setting the man up to freak out. I didn’t think you’d really fire his ass. That, somehow, makes my day even brighter.”
Oh, he was aware. Ethan was not playing games.
Not with this.
Not with Vegas.
“You’re all sexy when you play the king,” she teased, as they worked their way through the crowd and back toward their ride. Honestly, she didn’t give a shit if the media heard them talking. The rumor mill could be in full swing. She was happy and with her husband.
“How sexy are you talking?” he asked.
Oh, very.
When she wiggled her eyebrows, he got excited.
“I’m talking like so damn sexy that I will respect you and not burn down the city around us.”
Ethan Blackhawk, as usual, had been caught off guard by his wife.
He laughed.
Security didn’t.
Ethan knew the truth.
Nothing could stop that.
Elizabeth was a wildcard, and Vegas…it was about to be her bitch.
* * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *
Terrace Glen
Tuesday
Post Funeral
Greyson Croft carried his mourning wife to their bedroom as she was racked with tears and sobs. He knew she needed him now more than ever, and he would give his wife anything she needed.
She was broken.
Hurt.
Damaged.
She’d lost someone she loved so very much, and now she’d lost someone she loved to desertion. It was a very hard pill to swallow. Fate was being one hell of a bitch. While his wife had let Chris go of his own volition, she would still mourn him. To her, he’d ‘died’ too.
Greyson hated watching Emma weep.
It unburied such fury in him.
She was carrying his son, and they couldn’t even enjoy that miracle. While they had been
away, and he was donating his sperm to Paris and Tessa, they’d had an ultrasound. They had found out the sex of the child, and he’d been over the moon.
His wife had been right.
Now they couldn’t even celebrate it.
Their family was broken.
As Greyson held her in his arms in bed, she wept bitter tears of pain and agony over losing a man she loved. Her whole body was wracked with the sobs.
Greyson knew he could be jealous of her love for Chris, and he could be envious, but why? There was clearly a bond there. How he walked away…it made him want to kill.
He’d taken a vow to their family, and even in his grief, they would have wrapped around him and healed his heart. Now Greyson, his shoulders overburdened with so much, was left to pick up the pieces of his wife’s heart.
It sucked.
It wasn’t fair.
She’d sacrificed so much for him when they came to Vegas, and he didn’t feel like he’d been a good husband. If he had, they’d have some kids, a couple of dogs, and a decent life.
They had anything but.
It was killing.
Death.
Pain.
That was on him.
As he soothed her, she cuddled against him.
As he stared down into the stress and pain on her face, he had only one decision to make.
He needed to send her away.
His gut was screaming that what was coming was going to be horrible and bad.
It had been her ride that had been blown up. There was no doubt in his mind that Viktor Marchenko was coming for his wife, and he took an opportunity to hurt his brother to send them a warning message.
Emma was the one who was supposed to die.
His sweet Emma.
His little boy.
With each passing day, Greyson knew that his chances of seeing his child born were less and less—not because he would die.
No.
Marchenko would let him live so he could suffer in endless torment over losing them.
He’d take a shot at the one thing that could take Greyson to his knees. So, Greyson had to get her to go.
He had to send her away. It was the ONLY way to save the woman he loved and his progeny.
As she slowly stopped crying, he knew it was time to break her heart again.
God!
He hated his life.
What the fuck had happened?
This was NOT what they’d planned.
The plan had been for a beautiful life, and then it took a full one-eighty and ended up in Shitville.