True Justice

by Morgan Kelley

  He grinned.

  “I can use some amusement.”

  “I’ll go grab your clothes and my phone for when Poppy calls. I’ll have security send her up.”

  He gave her a kiss on the temple.

  “Thank you, Mom.”

  She leaned into him a little longer to chase away the pain in her heart.

  It was from the loss of a man she’d never forget.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Devin Barosi’s

  Home

  She checked the address on her paper that Ethan had given her, and to make sure, she double checked on her phone.

  This was definitely the Fed’s home, but it didn’t look right. It was WAY too big.

  The Mercedes in the driveway was another red flag. She was hitched to Jackson James and Ethan Blackhawk, and all she was driving was a very large SUV.

  “Uh, someone has some money.”

  “Yeah, just like the Director. How much does an agent make?” Ivan asked.

  “Well, that depends on your pay grade and years in the FBI.” Then to give him a point of reference, she told him how much she made.

  He laughed.

  “Well, gee, I know it’s funny. I see it every two weeks as it hits my account.”

  “I make more than you. I don’t feel bad at all,” Ivan teased. “Looks like I am the rich guy in the car.”

  She burst his bubble.

  “I get paid in sex and two husbands’ bank accounts,” she stated. “I have sex a lot.”

  He gagged.

  That was better. Elizabeth liked freaking him out. That always made her day.

  “Let’s go, money bags. Oh, and lunch is on you since Wilcox broke the bank.”

  “If you see blood...” he warned.

  That made her laugh.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m calling Ethan. He can go in first. I hate being beaten up. I’m older than you, and I’m sore as hell.”

  He knew that feeling.

  As of late, he was feeling it too.

  The last few cases had been hardcore, and tested them all.

  “Well, those two ass-clowns hit hard. I have one hell of a bruise above my dick. Blue is going to want to know about that one.”

  “I’m going to tell her you were jerking off the whole time—nonstop.”

  He laughed as they headed toward the door.

  “Why am I not surprised?” he asked.

  As they got on the porch, she stared down at the steps and she couldn’t believe it. They’d been screwing around, and that had to end.

  “Stop!”

  He did.

  “Look.”

  Ivan stared down.

  “Oh, come on,” he said, staring at the blood. “You have to be shitting me.”

  Immediately, they both pulled their guns. It looked like the shit was about to hit the fan.

  Ivan turned around and had their backs.

  Lesson learned.

  He’d never joke about finding blood or a body again—not with Elizabeth.

  She knocked on the door with the tip of her gun.

  “Agent Barosi! Director Elizabeth Blackhawk. I see blood. Are you okay?” she called.

  Nothing.

  Well, this was not good.

  Elizabeth was beginning to hate Vegas. She’d found more bodies in two days there than she did in a week on a case. What the hell was with this town?

  Thank God for DC, hookers, and crooked politicians. This shit was for the damn birds.

  “I’m kicking in the door!”

  Still nothing.

  Ivan watched the reporters across the street.

  “Make it good, Tex. We have an audience. They’re watching.”

  She booted the door. It took two tries to get it open.

  Yeah, she was getting old.

  Pointing her gun inside, she saw the body, and she knew why there was so much blood.

  Someone had lost their head.

  Their skull.

  Their scalp.

  And their life.

  Ethan was not going to like this one bit.

  Another Fed was dead, and this one didn’t die by accident either.

  In Vegas, someone was doing a shit ton of killing, and for once, it wasn’t her.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sky Villa

  Thursday Eight A.M.

  O kay, she was nervous as hell, and she wasn’t going to lie about it. Heading to the Croft and Gideon turf was daunting. It was one hell of a feat to show up in that luxury tower and interview two power players in Vegas.

  Yes, she’d worked with Emma before in Homicide.

  Yes, she’d been up close and personal with Dimitri Gideon, but there was something about him that rattled her cage.

  It was those eyes.

  They were deep.

  Mysterious.

  They sucked her in, and she felt everything he was feeling when he looked at her.

  It was overwhelming.

  Why she felt compelled to pick up two gifts for them was beyond her. She felt like an idiot, but she was already there, and it was time to man up, be a cop, and stop chickening out.

  Inside Sky Villa, she was met with the same exact guards as last time. Only, miracle of all miracles, they didn’t tell her to pound sand.

  Well, this was looking up.

  All the way there, she fully expected to get to the door and be turned away. This might not be as horrifying as she expected.

  “Mrs. Croft is expecting you, Detective Wayne. Head to the penthouse floor. Press ‘P’ in the elevator. There’s only one door and one stairwell to the pool. If you see water, you took the wrong one.”

  “There’s a pool?” she asked, looking up. That was absolutely insane. So, this was how the other half lived. It must be nice.

  “Yes.”

  That made her laugh.

  Of course there was.

  Why was she surprised?

  “The elevator is that way.”

  She headed up, and on the final stop, she peeked out. There was indeed one door and a glass one that said pool. She headed toward the wooden one with the big urns of flowers outside it. It was carved, gilded, and spoke of wealth. If that was the entrance, she could ONLY IMAGINE the inside of the place. The door was hand carved and gorgeous.

  She’d grown up in foster care after her mother and sister were killed. Luxury to her was having her car payment in on time. Cops got paid for shit—detectives even worse.

  They worked long hours with no overtime.

  At the door, she knocked, fully expecting a maid or housekeeper to open the door. Instead, it was Emma. She was barefoot and in a pair of sweats.

  “Hello, Detective. Welcome,” she said.

  Immediately, Poppy looked around.

  “Uh, do I have to take my boots off?” she asked. “I don’t want to jack up your floors.”

  Emma laughed.

  “I walk around barefoot at home. You can keep your shoes,” she offered.

  “Is this your other home?” she asked. “I know you have that big place out in the desert.”

  “Temporarily. Likely until Viktor is caught. It’s safer here for everyone.”

  Yeah, mostly for Dimitri.

  He was her concern.

  Emma led Poppy into the penthouse, and it was gorgeous. It was hard not to stare, but the place likely cost millions.

  With an ‘S’.

  That was way out of her pay grade—forever.

  “Dimitri is in here,” she said, leading the way. When they headed into the living room, he was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed, and a mug of coffee in his hand.

  “Detective,” he said, checking her out.

  It was automatic.

  She was tall, curvy, and built how he preferred his women. Skinny was okay, but if he got down to it, he liked strong, athletic, and with a little more ass than thigh gap.

  Basically, he liked his women looking like women. It was sexier. The starved model look didn’t fl
oat his boat. It didn’t make his submarine want to take a dive.

  The detective…she was definitely everything that stirred him up, and then some.

  Poppy was wearing dress pants, a blazer, and a pretty colored shirt in…poppy.

  He didn’t think that was accidental.

  “Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Gideon. How’s the shoulder?” she asked.

  “Better, thank you. I appreciate your concern,” he said, keeping it formal. He wasn’t sure if he could trust this woman. At that moment, she held his life in her hands.

  He was playing this one by ear.

  Emma offered her coffee.

  “Can I get you some?”

  “Sure,” she said, “if that’s not too much. I know you’re pregnant, and I don’t want you to exert yourself.”

  She laughed.

  “You watch the tabloids?” she asked.

  “Hell, no. The reporters were talking about it outside the building. When I pulled up, I scoped them out to make sure they weren’t on the property. I hate reporters.”

  Dimitri laughed.

  “Don’t we all?”

  Emma went to go get her some coffee.

  “Please sit,” Dimitri offered. “I’d get up, but then I’d fall on my face. You’d have to save me again.”

  “Then it’s a habit,” she stated calmly. “Oh, and nice place you have here, Mr. Gideon.”

  “It’s not mine. Mine is a few floors down. I don’t need all this space. It’s only me.”

  He didn’t tell her about Sam. That was a secret that he’d keep to himself for the boy’s protection. No one knew but the family. He’d bribed a judge to seal it, and it would stay that way too.

  “Yeah, my apartment would fit in here about twenty times, and that’s just this room,” she stated. “I work a lot. I don’t spend much time at home.”

  He watched her, and it was making her nervous—not because she was afraid, but because she was thinking about the time they spent locked at the lips.

  She tried not to think about it, but a part of her wanted to cheer that the man lived alone. Dimitri Gideon was a bachelor.

  Then she forced herself to be logical.

  He broke the law.

  She protected it.

  That was a bad idea even going there.

  “Well, this place is nice. I like the clean lines. I’m a minimalist myself. I don’t like clutter.”

  “Me either. My place is very similar.”

  Okay, it wasn’t the Crofts.

  It wasn’t Dimitri’s.

  Who owned this place?

  She waited for Emma to arrive. When she came in, she had a tray with creamers and all kinds of things. There was even a cupcake.

  “I wasn’t sure how you like it.”

  “Black. I don’t mess around with frivolity. I tend to be sensible, non-ostentatious, and very practical.”

  “I can see that. Cupcake? It’s red velvet.”

  “Ahhh, I wish. Then I might as well smear it on my ass. It takes a lot of running not to be in the next zip code. I get that from my gene pool.”

  “Your ass is fine,” he stated.

  Emma tried not to laugh.

  God!

  She wanted to say something. Since she knew the man beside her so well, she knew he was checking her out. Dimitri was a watcher by nature.

  And he was watching.

  That he’d even comment on a woman’s ass said it all. He was smitten.

  Poppy laughed at the term.

  “Just what every girl aspires to in life—a fine ass. I’ll take that as some weird compliment. You have a fine ass, too, Mr. Gideon.”

  He stared at her.

  Neither of them broke their gaze.

  Yeah, they were very much alike.

  “Anyway,” Poppy began. “I should get this part over with so you can finish recouping.”

  “Yes, the questioning,” Emma stated.

  “Actually, first, I have something for you,” she said, grabbing her big purse. She pulled out a little box for Emma with a bow and a small, heavy square one for Dimitri. She handed it to each of them.

  “A cop who brings gifts? I don’t know how to process this,” Dimitri teased.

  “A search warrant is the gift that keeps on giving,” she teased back when he looked horrified. “Don’t worry, that’s not in there.”

  Emma opened hers. In it, there was a mother’s journal, and it was lovely. She ran her fingers over it and admired the pretty, soft colors.

  “Thank you. This is gorgeous.”

  “Before my mom was killed, she had one for me and my sister. She religiously filled it out.”

  “That must be very precious to you,” Emma said, hugging her. “Thank you, Poppy. I’m going to use it.”

  “I’m glad. I know you’re not on the force anymore, but had you been, there would have been some politically incorrect, tasteless, and crass baby shower with condoms filled with gumballs and bad coffee.”

  She laughed.

  It was true.

  “As for mine, it is precious since my mother and sister died when I was young. Mine is only filled up to when I wasn’t even a teen. I hope you get to fill it to the end for your child.”

  That was beautiful, sad, and all kinds of ironic. She hoped so too.

  “Your turn,” she said, glancing over at him. It was hard to stay calm. He was watching her, and she swore it was getting hot in there.

  Dimitri opened his.

  There was a box of bullets.

  “Uh, bullets?”

  “What do you get the man who has everything? Besides, I took all of yours out of your gun while you were passed out. I’m nice, but not crazy.”

  He stared at her.

  Then he laughed.

  “Again, sensible.”

  “Guilty as charged. Speaking of guilty, let’s get this over with. I’m sure you want to get me out of your hair.”

  He wasn’t so sure.

  She intrigued him.

  Plus, she had that silky black hair, and he remembered how it smelled in that sleeping bag.

  “I’m ready, Detective.”

  When Dimitri lifted his arm, Emma went beneath it. While it may look ‘cozy’, it was to offer him strength. She knew he was dreading this.

  “Tell me about Viktor Marchenko.”

  “On or off the record?” Emma asked. “I didn’t ask for our attorney to be here, so…”

  Poppy took that as her cue. She dropped her phone, pen, and notebook into her purse and got ready to just listen. Being a cop meant paying attention to everything.

  “I’ll say off the record first, but that’s contingent on the answers you give me. If I feel lies, we go on the record, and I think we all want to avoid that. Then you’ll need to get Miss Fleur here. She loves riding my ass.”

  Dimitri lifted a brow.

  He suddenly was thinking about her ass again.

  She broke his concentration.

  “Hit me with it.”

  “How far back do you want to go?” Dimitri asked, ready for the shit storm to hit.

  “All the way. I have time. Retell me everything—and I mean all the things we’ve discussed.”

  What choice did he have?

  “He’s my half-brother. My father was an animal who raped and killed people. He worked for the KGB.”

  He didn’t know why he was telling her.

  Dimitri couldn’t keep his mouth shut around her. That was going to be a serious problem. He hoped he didn’t have to hurt Poppy. He was genuinely attracted to her.

  “Okay, and?”

  “I came home from the service and found him raping my sister. She was a child. I killed him.”

  She sipped her coffee.

  “Continue.”

  “I took her and my other sister, Natasha, and we went on the run. I was all they had, and I never looked back.”

  She waited.

  “My father had spread his sperm all over our town and everyone knew it.”

>   “I really hope that’s not in the tourism brochure. That’s not appealing when looking for a vacation.”

  Emma laughed.

  He glanced over.

  “I’m so sorry, Dimitri, but I pictured it in my head,” she said.

  Dimitri gave her a kiss on the temple.

  “I understand, malen'kiy.”

  “Little one?” Poppy asked. Well, that didn’t make her happy. That seemed a whole lot like a term of endearment for a…lover.

  Crap.

  Dimitri glanced over at Poppy.

  “Yes, you speak Russian?” he asked.

  “I speak a little Russian. My grandmother was from there, and she tried to teach all of us, but not a lot stuck. Enough—but not much. Then she died, and my mother and sister followed.”

  That was her warning that if he tried to talk about something in Russian, she would know.

  Why she warned him, she didn’t know?

  That wasn’t the truth.

  She didn’t want him to lie. She wanted him to be legit. Poppy wanted to be able to trust him like he’d trusted her on that mountain.

  “Ya ponimayu.”

  “Ya schastliv,” she replied.

  Emma watched them. It was like two alpha dogs going head-to-head. He was testing her to see if she really spoke it by replying with him understanding.

  She was proving it with her telling him she was glad he understood.

  Holy shit!

  The chemistry beneath the looks.

  There was something there.

  Emma could feel it. The man she called her brother was face-to-face with someone who would change his life. She could already tell.

  Poppy Wayne…she was his.

  He might not know it, but Emma would bet a shit ton of money on it.

  “Back to Viktor.”

  “He’s angry that I killed his idol, our father. See, his mother spoke highly of him. Mine wouldn’t have.”

  She understood.

  It was hard to focus. He was wearing all black, his shirt open at the neck, and she wanted to unbutton it, so she could ogle his chest all over again.

  The man was pretty hot.

  Only, she was confused as to why they were so cozy. She’d ask her later.

  Why not?

  What did she have to lose?

  “So, he has a grudge match.”