True Justice

by Morgan Kelley

  “Yeah?” she asked rubbing her leg up and down his.

  He wanted to tell her he loved her.

  Riley had never felt anything like this before.

  “If I have to move away…?”

  Tears filled her eyes.

  It killed the mood.

  Yeah, that’s what he thought. He’d be leaving the best thing that ever happened to him. There was no way she could follow. Her mission of saving people was here in Vegas. They’d have to have a long-distance relationship.

  “Would we be okay?” he asked, still hoping for that miracle.

  Delilah went into his body and held him.

  She wasn’t sure.

  Riley was a guy who held doors for his woman and was a gentleman. She wasn’t sure she fit in his life. All she could think about was the woman before her.

  He’d been with her four years before he proposed. That was a damn long time.

  Delilah didn’t think she could do it.

  She wanted to be with him forever.

  And Riley was a slow mover.

  That was going to be a problem.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Chris Ford’s

  Condo

  He was shitfaced drunk, and he didn’t care. He’d bought a whole case of Bud, and was going to sit on his couch and drink it all until he physically passed out or died.

  That was how he was feeling.

  What made it worse was when he got to the condo, a place he hadn’t used in months, it was fully stocked.

  Chris knew who did it.

  Emma.

  She didn’t leave any sign that it was her, but he knew her. She knew he’d run. She knew he’d walk away at some point.

  That was why he had to get out of the city.

  Chris had to get to whatever town Greyson was sending him to and fast. The longer he was there, the more likely he’d be to go back.

  He knew himself.

  As he downed his next beer, he saw Natasha’s journal on the table. He was curious.

  Reaching for it, he found a little lock on it. It was like that journal you had as a kid.

  It was sweet how Natasha was innocent like that. She’d been innocent until he ruined her.

  That was on him.

  When he couldn’t open the little book, he pulled a blade from his pocket and popped it open.

  Inside, he saw her handwriting, and he wanted to cry bitter, angry tears.

  “Oh, Natasha, I’m so sorry,” he said, closing his eyes. “I let you down.”

  His heart ached for what he’d lost, and more importantly, what she’d lost.

  She was a child compared to him.

  Now, she was gone.

  Flipping to the first page, he read the date.

  It was the day he was in the hospital after he’d been shot. It was the first time he’d ever seen her. He’d woken up and thought she was a nurse.

  She’d been taking care of him.

  He read her words.

  ‘I met the most amazing man today. Well, actually, I met him a while ago. I’ve been on Emma duty, and he’s always around her. He’s big, bulky, and sexy. As he was lying in the hospital bed, he said my name, and it sounded like music to my ears.

  I’m so attracted to him.

  He’s a good man, and I hope that I can get up the nerve to talk to him. I shouldn’t. I see how he looks at Emma. Deep down, I can tell he’s in love with her. When you can’t have something, you want it that much more.

  Still, I would give anything to have a man like him look at me like he stares at her. The other day, she was making breakfast, and she sat in his lap and hugged him. I was jealous. I was upset that she was touching what I wanted as my own.

  Then I remembered that he wasn’t mine. I can tell he never will be. Emma is his heart. I’m just his armor.’

  That broke his heart.

  It made tears come to his eyes.

  Chris wished he could say it wasn’t true, but he recalled that day and so many more of them. Emma and he…they had something there, and it wouldn’t go away.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop that feeling. Oh, he’d wanted to—for Natasha, but it was still there. Every day, he hid it, but it lived in him.

  He wished he could pretend it wasn’t there.

  That was why he left.

  Chris knew that what he felt for Emma wouldn’t ever go away. He knew that if he stayed, he’d be heartbroken for the rest of his life.

  He’d lost the best thing he could ever have.

  He’d lost Natasha.

  Worse.

  If this entry was any indication, she knew what was in his heart, and that sucked.

  Chris Ford hadn’t fooled anyone.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Mountain

  Tuesday

  Evening

  Dimitri was in and out of consciousness for the last hour. As he lay there, she knew she needed to check his wounds. He was overheated, feverish, and he was starting to talk to himself.

  Some things were in Russian.

  Some words were in English.

  Moving closer, she touched his arm.

  “Mr. Gideon, I need to look at your arm. I need to check to make sure you’re not bleeding,” she said.

  He mumbled.

  “Emma.”

  She opened his jacket and pulled back the sweater she’d packed into his wounds. It didn’t look good. He wasn’t bleeding, but she was worried about him.

  He was warm.

  It was cold in the cave.

  God knew she was freezing her ass off.

  His teeth began chattering, and she pulled off his boots. His toes were ice cold, even in his hunting socks.

  Okay, he was getting ready to go into shock. Despite the warmth his body was fighting, he was cold.

  “Hey, Dimitri,” she said, trying to get him to wake up.

  His eyes flickered open, and that aqua color was focused on her.

  “I need you to drink some water, I need to get a cold cloth on your head, but we need a fire. Can you focus for me?” Poppy asked.

  “He’s going to kill the Crofts,” he muttered.

  “Who?” she asked, as she tore apart her flannel shirt she’d brought as a spare to make some strips to wet down.

  “My brother. He’s going to kill them. I have to stop him from hurting them.”

  She let him talk.

  “He killed Natasha,” he whispered. “He killed my child. She was mine.”

  She poured the icy water on the strips and touched his cheek. “You are NOT going to like this, but we have to break that fever. I have to get your fever to stop and keep your extremities warm.”

  “Just do it,” he said, closing his eyes.

  She placed the strips across his chest, and his body shook the second they touched him.

  “I’ll get you warm. I promise,” Poppy offered.

  He nodded.

  “I’ll be okay. This is nothing. I’ve been through worse in my life,” he said, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering.

  Really?

  She couldn't imagine.

  “You’ve been through worse?” she asked, placing one more strip across his chest. He was muscular, built, and it was hard not to notice it.

  “Yes. I was tortured.”

  “Is that what happened to your back?” she asked.

  Dimitri shook his head.

  “No. My father did that to me when I was a child. I killed him.”

  She knew she shouldn’t keep asking him questions. He was at a disadvantage. Dimitri wasn’t under arrest, she was digging, and she had no business…

  Still…

  “Why did you kill him?” she asked. “For the abuse?”

  “He raped my sister. I caught him raping my sister,” he said. “My Katerina. She’s my child too. I lost Natasha, but I won’t leave her.”

  She didn’t understand any of it, but she understood the part about killing a rapist.


  “I don’t blame you.”

  He kept rambling.

  “My Anastasia betrayed me. She turned me over to the enemy.”

  She poured more melted snow onto the bandages. When she placed it against his chest, he moaned in pain.

  “Shhhhh, I have you. I have you, Dimitri. I’ll get us off this mountain tomorrow.”

  He nodded.

  “Okay,” he hissed, his teeth chattering.

  Poppy needed to distract him. She needed to keep him talking.

  “Tell me about Anastasia.”

  “She betrayed me. They took me and tortured me for a month.”

  She listened.

  This man…he was freaking fascinating.

  She knew he was dangerous, but he was so complex. As a cop, that complexity astounded her—and attracted her. He was one hell of a mystery.

  “How did you get free?”

  “They thought I was dead. They buried me alive and I dug myself out.”

  That sounded horrible.

  “Then I killed her. I stabbed her in the heart.”

  She was tucking his clothes back around him. She let him talk because, clearly, this was eating away at him.

  She began working on the fire.

  “I didn’t know,” he whispered. “I didn’t know she was with child. My child.”

  He began weeping.

  Poppy moved closer, pulling her sleeping bag over them. She held him, the chill of his body seeping into hers. She had to get him warm.

  “Why? Anastasia, why?” he whispered over and over again. “Why did you betray me? It’s the ONLY thing I couldn’t forgive.”

  She noticed he was staring at her.

  “I’m not Anastasia,” she stated. “I’m Poppy Wayne. I’m a detective.”

  “I always loved your hair,” he whispered, touching hers. “Your eyes saw through me.”

  He closed his eyes, and she held him. His face felt cooler. The fever was breaking. She needed to keep him alive through the night, and in the morning…

  They had to get the hell off this mountain.

  If not, he wasn’t going to make it.

  She could tell.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Sky Villa

  Tuesday

  Evening

  When the couple heard they were in the building, of course, Paris and Tessa were going to make sure they were okay. As far as they knew, the Crofts were in Terrace Glen. If not, something bad had to have gone down.

  Greyson didn’t leave that house with Emma for shits and giggles.

  He was protective.

  So, at their text, they headed to the penthouse to find them. They were shocked that they were upstairs.

  When they knocked on the door, some stranger answered it, and they didn’t recognize him.

  “Oh, sorry,” Paris said, his wife sitting on his lap. “We thought someone else was here.”

  Ivan stepped back.

  “You’re looking for the Crofts. They are working in the living room with the Blackhawks.”

  They both lifted their brows.

  The Blackhawks?

  Uh oh.

  The shit had definitely gone down.

  Paris wheeled them in, and they found them in there working on something. Immediately, Tessa was up and gave Emma a hug.

  “What happened?”

  “We aren’t safe at the house, so we sent the family to the hotel, and we came here.”

  “Wow, this is some place,” Paris stated. “It’s double the size of our place.”

  “Yeah, that’s because there is only one penthouse,” Greyson stated, hugging the man. “How are you feeling, Tessa?”

  It had been two weeks since she was inseminated, and they already knew. She was sick as a dog, so they went to the doctor.

  “I’m okay. Two of the five eggs made it. We just have to wait and see if they both start to grow.”

  “They are from a strong gene pool. They’ll make it,” Paris stated. “I can feel it here,” he said, touching his heart.

  Tessa’s eyes watered.

  She hoped so.

  Elizabeth headed their way.

  “You’re Doctor Archer, right?” she asked.

  He offered her his hand. He definitely knew who she was. When he worked at the FBI, everyone knew her. She was a legend when it came to the agents.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Ethan laughed at the look on her face. She really hated being called that.

  “In his defense, you are older than him,” he teased.

  “And I have a spare husband,” she replied. “There’s a very logical reason for that.”

  “Ouch. Someone is cranky.”

  Oh, she was.

  “We thought you might be of service, Doctor. I already have a profiler here, one who will be bleeding if he mentions my age again, but Greyson said you would be up for helping.”

  He pulled his glasses out of his pocket.

  “I would. What do you need?”

  She headed toward the table.

  “We have a shit ton of papers from the FBI on the sex traffickers. Care to help dig through them?”

  She glanced over at Tessa.

  “How about you?”

  “I’m in,” Tessa said. “Anyone have pickles?” she asked. “And peanut butter?”

  Emma stared at her in horror at that culinary hot mess. No one should eat that.

  “Oh, thank you, Jesus, I didn’t have cravings.”

  Greyson cleared his throat and wiggled his eyebrows.

  “For weird food,” she clarified. She craved a lot of sex and still did. Then again, look at her sexy devil.

  Who wouldn’t?

  Blackhawk laughed.

  “Ivan, get the lady peanut butter and pickles.”

  He rolled his eyes.

  “I wish I had a whiteboard,” Elizabeth stated. “I hate not being organized.”

  “I have one downstairs,” Paris offered.

  She looked at him.

  “Don’t tease. Those are pretty important words to me. They make me happy. No one likes me bitchy.”

  He laughed.

  “I outline my profiles on it.”

  Paris pulled his keys from his pocket and handed them to Heath. “It’s in the closet when you first walk in,” he offered.

  The man took the keys and headed out.

  They divided up the papers and began going through them page by page.

  “What do you have so far?” Paris asked. “Update me so I can catch up. I’m pretty fast, once I get the idea of what’s going on.”

  Ethan agreed.

  “I’ve read your profiles.”

  He swallowed.

  “You have, sir?”

  “It’s Ethan,” he offered. “Yes, I have. They’re very well thought out, concise, and to the point. Well done.”

  He blushed.

  “My husband tries very hard. He misses the FBI. He misses doing the profiles,” Tessa offered.

  “I do,” he admitted, “but I stand with my family. That comes first.”

  “Would you come back?” Ethan asked.

  His eyes went wide.

  “No.”

  He laughed.

  “Son, you just lied your ass off,” Greyson stated. “It’s okay. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

  Honestly, he wished he and Tessa could go back. They’d be safer if they did.

  “Director, I mean, Ethan, I can’t keep up. My legs, they aren’t getting better, and I can’t pass the testing.”

  Greyson stared at him.

  Oh, he could.

  He could if they went back to training. That was total BS, and they both knew it.

  “What if I called you occasionally for your assistance when I was profile backlogged?”

  He hesitated.

  “What are you thinking?” Ethan asked.

  “Sir, Vegas is dirty. I can’t play with the FBI. No one would take my profiles seriously. That boat has
sailed.”

  Tessa gave him a kiss.

  She felt bad for him. He had all that skill, and he couldn’t use it. It sucked.

  “What if I cleaned Vegas up?” he asked.

  That was easy.

  “Then I would in a heartbeat.”

  Heath came in, carrying a whiteboard.

  “You have some weird skeletons in your closet,” he said, placing it in front of Elizabeth.

  They all looked at him.

  Tessa laughed.

  “Halloween decorations,” she said.

  Heath grinned.

  “It’s funny how all of you immediately went there,” he stated. “Sad, but funny.”

  Elizabeth pointed at the kitchen.

  “Out.”

  He left but pouted the entire way.

  She grabbed the marker and shook her head. She worked with cuckoos, and she loved it.

  “Okay, let’s revisit this last case. Let’s start at the beginning and go down the line of suspects. Something was missed, and we have to figure out what.”

  Emma was up.

  This had been her thing.

  “We started with Gerald Darden. He was a street-level pimp, but we found out he was more. He was a mule, getting the girls into that club.”

  She wrote it on the board.

  “Okay, and he is…?”

  “Dead,” Greyson stated. “Rosemary and her partner had him offed. He was hit by a car.”

  She made the notes.

  This was good.

  It was working.

  “Okay, who else? With an operation this big, there had to be someone else playing mule.”

  “That would be a man by the name of Anthony Delmarco. He was the guy playing Casanova to all these young girls online. He was the one who pulled in Julie Pierce and all the other women.”

  She made the note.

  That was two people.

  “So, they had a local man and a long-distance man. Where is he?”

  She wasn’t going to like it.

  “Dead,” Greyson stated. “He was shanked on a park bench by Viktor Marchenko. We aren’t one hundred percent sure it was him, but we believe that the man was the ONLY link to Viktor.”