Sandesh knew and suspected things he shouldn’t. And she’d pay her price for that, but she’d protect his memories.
She took the front steps, thick slabs of red stone, two at a time. Pushing open one of the exotic front doors, she stepped into the grand foyer. This opulent expanse held as many memories for her as the always-present fresh flowers on the pedestal table and the Gone with the Wind-style staircase.
She closed the door.
Home. But not safe. Who was the traitor? She tossed the question aside as the comforting noise of her big family enveloped her. It was never quiet here.
Upstairs, two girls argued. The sound echoed down the wide hall and mixed with the training session in the gym to her right. She smiled. Only her family would put a gym, not a library or a sitting room, off the entryway.
The explosive grunts and forceful “hiyuhs” reverberated through the open gym doors.
As she strode past, she looked inside. Bridget was training. When she saw Justice, she waved her to come over.
Traitor?
She probably wanted to grill Justice on the mission. By now, they must all know. With Walid still out there and a new mission looming for her unit, Momma had had no choice but to come clean. Well, partly. They’d know about her failure. Know how she’d snuck out behind their backs. Know how she’d had to rely on someone who wasn’t family. And that now they all needed to band together to form a new plan. But not the whole truth.
She kept walking.
She felt grimy and used up and pissed off and sad to her soul. She walked purposefully toward the end of the long, ornately decorated corridor, past the sunken library, and toward the elevators.
“Justice?” Tony popped out of the arched, open doorway that led into the library. She jumped.
He grabbed her, hugged her. He held her tight enough to crack ribs. He smelled like Tony. Like celery juice and ginger. Could he have told Walid where to find her in Syria? Her heart shrieked denial. Not Tony. Not him.
“Justice. I thought…” He broke off. A large, disbelieving smile cracked half his face. Damn, some orthodontist had gotten so carried away with Tony’s braces. She doubted even in Hollywood you could find a better smile. No need to tell him that. She squirmed free.
“Nice smile, Tone.” She pushed at his shoulder. “You could actually double as a Muppet.”
He opened and closed his mouth in exaggerated delight. Like a Muppet. Tony. Not easy to offend.
“So funny, J. Now tell me what the fuck happened? Forget shutting us out or lying to your unit. You don’t do recon anymore? You pop into Jordan and attack the Brothers like you were taking down a massage parlor in the middle of nowhere?”
Sheesh. Even when he wasn’t on a mission, he critiqued her. And she hated lying. But until she knew who had betrayed her, she had to keep the truth from all her siblings. Even the one she trusted the most. She went with the story Momma and she had concocted. “I was sent to do recon. I went rogue. I saw an opportunity and took it.”
He raised an eyebrow—disbelief or something else? He lifted his shoulders, spread his hands wide like someone describing the big fish that got away. “You left one brother alive. That fucking sadistic, crazy-as-shit one. Y’know we gotta go after that fucker now, right?”
Gawd. It sounded so much worse when summarized with curses, hand gestures, and South Philly. “Yeah. Well, at least he wasn’t the smart one. Any thoughts on how to get him in Mexico?”
He jerked back as if she’d physically hit him. “You mean other than the detailed plan I laid out to Momma about getting the Brothers separately? The plan I put in a heartfelt letter and sent her before you even left?”
He glared. “Did Momma even tell you?”
Oh. Fuck. Tony was so sensitive about what he saw as the family ignoring his opinions.
She hadn’t seen it, but she really didn’t want to get into it with him. “It was my mission. I said all along we had to take them out together to keep one from alerting the other.”
“Yeah. Well, that worked out great.”
“I know, Tony. I was there. And so was Sandesh. And right now, I have to talk to Momma about him.” She ran a hand through her grimy hair and a deep breath through her agitation. “Sorry. I’ll catch you later. Okay?”
His eyes became suspicious. Or hurt. “You really like this guy?”
She looked away, shook her head. “Not really.”
Without meeting his eyes—no need to see if her lie had landed or missed the mark—she continued down the long hallway and turned right.
Once out of his line of sight, she exhaled and leaned her shoulder against the wall by the elevator. At this time of day, Momma would be home and in her office. She slammed the up arrow.
She wasn’t going up.
The elevator dinged. Opened. She stepped inside. Four yellow, round buttons indicated there were three floors and one basement level. Not exactly accurate. There were two other floors. The doors slid shut.
She lifted her wrist above the number pad. Nothing happened. Oh. Right. That would take some getting used to. She’d inserted a new microchip on the plane. She lifted her other wrist. The one that didn’t have a scab on it.
There was a beep of recognition. Yes. Welcome back to elevator-X. “Subfloor 4B.”
The smooth feminine automation responded, “Access is not operational. Two unauthorized personnel remain on this level. Please enter via another route.”
Oh. Hell no. “Override.”
“Wait for verification.”
She did.
“Override accepted. You have been processed and cleared for subfloor 4B. No cameras, cell phones, or unauthorized electronics.”
She braced her feet wide. The waist-high handholds were a deep temptation, but it had been a challenge since childhood not to hold on. The elevator intoned, “Proceeding.”
She took a deep breath. The elevator plunged. Her stomach slapped into her esophagus along with her heart. She clenched her teeth. Sheesh. No matter how many times she prepared for it, the violence of this drop made her stomach twist.
After the sinking free fall, the elevator slid to a weighted stop. Her legs buckled, and she locked her knees into place. The elevator intoned, “Subfloor 4B. Welcome, you are being monitored. Entering unauthorized areas will result in immediate expulsion.”
She stepped out of the elevator and into a spotless, windowless hallway. It was an authoritarian prick of a corridor. Unauthorized areas meant any of those accessed through the large, misted-gray glass double doors to her left. Not a problem.
She went right. She had nothing against internal security rules, but she’d learned a healthy respect for them as a child. They were the cops of her adolescence, led by Leland, and she steered clear of the numerous offices and security centers behind those doors.
It was a line she rarely questioned. Well, not after that time with Gracie. She shuddered. Being a teenager with an attitude hadn’t been easy.
The muffled feel of being underground was compounded by the sound of the rhythmic humming breaths of the ventilation system. It smelled like forced air. Manufactured and new-car clean. She preferred the floor above this, 4A. And not just because the gym and gun range were there. But because it wasn’t so stiff.
She knocked on Momma’s office door and entered before getting a response. Momma’s office made up for the lack of decorations on this level. It testified to the colorful soul hidden beneath her damaged skin.
Thick, hand-woven rugs splashed with garish, bright colors; ornaments of every conceivable hue; lush, gold damask wallpaper; sub-Saharan artwork; elephant lamps; brightly painted masks; and a delicate, hand-carved desk of bleached wood.
Wearing a silver silk niqab, Momma sat working at her desk. And before her, in one of the two robin’s egg-blue chairs, sat Leland—working on an iPad. Probably monitoring the many s
ecurity cameras. Though he usually did that from his office in internal.
Momma raised her head. “Justice. Welcome home.”
“Momma, I need to talk to you.”
As dapper as the silver suit he wore, Leland stood and put the iPad on the desk, then walked around and sat on the corner of Momma’s desk, as if to highlight the point that they were a team.
No need. These two were spookily coordinated. Seriously, her niqab almost matched his suit. What was with them?
So hyperaware of herself, her senses, that she could feel the fibers in her socks, Justice shut the door behind her and walked across the room. She kissed Momma on her silk-lined cheek. She smelled like Momma, like that flowery, earthy richness of Une Rose.
Justice nodded to Leland, who indicated the chair he had just left. “Please sit down.”
Please? Okay. That was different.
She sat in the chair, still warm from Leland. Hot even.
Huh. She was in the hot seat.
Shit. That wasn’t funny. She inhaled, held her breath, released.
“Yeah.” Justice crossed, uncrossed her legs. “I know you want details on the mission, but I need to talk to you about Sandesh.”
Leland shook his head. “First, you listen.”
Okay. Again different. Usually, after a botched mission, they wanted her to talk.
Her mother tugged at the fabric draped across her shoulder. “Yes. We need to discuss your young man.”
Her young man? She didn’t like the sound of that. She looked each in the eyes in turn. “Momma. Leland. I won’t stand for you taking his memories. I won’t.”
“Calm down and listen,” Leland said. “Sandesh is with Gracie.”
“Gracie!” She jolted to her feet. Nightmare. “Where? When?” Poor Sandesh. She had to rescue him.
Chapter 38
Sandesh stepped off the escalator at the Philadelphia International Airport with a chip on his shoulder. He adjusted his too-light backpack across his shoulder. The overhead fluorescents by the baggage carousel gave off enough light to see clearly but not enough to seem warm and friendly. Ah, Philly.
He moved past the baggage claim and outside, toward the cabstand.
What the hell?
He blinked until he was sure that he understood what he was seeing. A redhead. Red hair pinned back in an angry little bun. A pissed-off redhead, as hot as she was angry-looking, holding a sign with his name.
This would be Gracie. What was it Justice had said about her sister? Something about never wanting to be on her bad side. Looks like that’s where he’d started out.
The redhead, Gracie, sauntered right up to him. She didn’t just wear her attitude; she was cloaked in it. That attitude made her bland, black suit seem threatening and imperial.
She pointed at him, then hitched her thumb toward a limo. “Let’s go, big guy. We need to talk.”
Chapter 39
Momma waved at Justice. “Sit. He is fine.”
She sat. Her legs felt dull and heavy against the chair. Her sister had her… What was Sandesh to her? “Great lay” sounded a bit cold. “Why Gracie? She could be behind all this.”
“If she is,” Leland said, “she won’t like the fact that we’re bringing a man into the organization. Your man. Especially when we made her give up hers.”
Fuckers. So manipulative. They were putting Sandesh in the line of fire with Gracie. And Tony. After being excluded from the Jordan mission, Tony would be so pissed if Sandesh was… Wait. What? “You’re bringing Sandesh in?”
Momma shifted in her seat. “Yes. It is imperative for his safety and our security.”
Oh. That was good. Wasn’t it? “What do you mean?”
“The Brothers Grim, or I guess we can call him the Grim Brother now, believe that your friend Sandesh has a deeper connection to our mission than he does. Probably because he and Salma intercepted a shipment of women bound for Walid and the Americas right before he helped you escape.”
Looked like Walid had put one and man together and come up with the wrong conclusion. Way to stick to character.
Dude had no idea how very wrong he was. “So, what? You’ll use Sandesh to flush out the traitor, then dangle him in front of Walid as bait, and then after he’s served his purpose, you’ll M-erase him?”
Momma sat up straighter. Offended? Good. Leland put a hand on her raised shoulder. She relaxed.
“Justice. I am allowing Sandesh his memories, so he is aware of the threat and can defend himself and his charity.”
“How totally selfless of you.”
Momma slapped angry hands together. “Would you have me throw away opportunity? Yes. I am sending a message to whoever betrayed you, us. That person might now grow angry and careless. And yet will fear revealing more information to Walid, knowing that doing so will bring them more easily under our scrutiny. But at the same time, I am giving Sandesh a chance to prove himself. Perhaps we can continue this business relationship.”
She brought her masked gaze directly onto Justice. “Can you say you have dealt as fairly with him?”
That hit home like nothing else. She was right. Her mission had jeopardized his charity, and she’d then left him to put the pieces back together while she took on Walid. And Momma.
Heartsick. That was the only way to describe the feeling in her chest. Like her heart had a fever, the chills, and was curled under the blanket of her chest, moaning in pain. Oh, Sandy, I’m so very sorry.
She schooled her features. “And you’re going to trust him? You’re going to allow him to know our secrets?”
Leland shrugged. “That wasn’t our choice.” His eyes took her in, accused her. The sudden rush of blood to her cheeks heated her face as a wave of cold dread settled into her stomach.
Leland continued his stare down, as if weighing Justice’s thoughts and emotions. “Besides, trust won’t be an issue. First, because he has more to lose than us. Second, because you are going to stick to him like glue. And third, because he’s being brought here to be tagged.”
She cringed. “He’s agreed to have a GPS implanted under his skin?”
Leland waved a hand. “We expect you’ll handle that minor detail.”
Chapter 40
The redhead with the I-cut-glass-with-my-unyielding stare leaned over the desk toward Sandesh. Under the black business jacket, she had a Beretta Tomcat. A tiny little thing that easily hid its real potential for danger. Telling.
They’d been in this windowless, colorless, almost airless ten-by-ten room for hours. His neck hurt. His ass hurt. Apparently, this was the way the Parish family treated potential suitors. They sat them at an Amish-crafted wood table, on a schoolmarm-straight wooden chair, while accusing fluorescent lights glared down at them.
Not that he thought Justice would ever consider him a suitor. Damn. He’d settle for “I won’t screw you into a warm, satiated coma and then abandon you without your passport in a foreign country.”
He’d need more than luck for that. He didn’t even know where she was right now. Didn’t even know where he was. He had some idea, though Gracie had blindfolded him. After he’d agreed.
That seemed to be a big deal for her. Asking if he’d mind her blindfolding him and taking him somewhere.
It had taken them three hours to get here, but he suspected that was to throw him off. The Mantua Academy was eighty minutes from the Philly airport. Where else would they take him?
The limo had seemed to drop down at one point, like into an underground garage. And she had taken him into and down an elevator that felt more like a ride at Great Adventure.
So he was down deep. And there was a muffled feeling that came from being surrounded by earth. He sat back, stretched.
Gracie grinned at him. “So when was the first time you and Justice had sex?”
Sandesh blinked. That
was a turn in a whole new direction. They’d spent hours discussing Jordan and now she wanted to get personal. Curiosity? Or some weird suspicion? “That’s not significant to this discussion.”
“It is to me. And since you need our protection—”
Sandesh laughed. “If you didn’t get the memo, I did just fine protecting myself. And your sister. Unlike your supposed group of professionals.”
Gracie’s green eyes narrowed. Her pale skin reddened. Sandesh had never been a fan of blushing, but he was bored and angry and had to keep himself from taunting her to see if he could provoke a deeper skin tone.
“So you don’t care if Salma and her family are in trouble?”
He lowered his arms. Clenched his hands into fists. “What are you saying?”
“Well, tough guy, you rescued a group of enslaved women and girls on the same night Walid’s brother was killed. He followed the trail of those women and it led to Salma and you. He’s convinced you and she are his enemy. Which is part of the reason I took so long to get here. You’re on the Mantua Academy campus. Had to make sure Walid’s men weren’t following you.”
He let that sink in. Not just the statement—how the hell did she have access to that information?—but the domino effect. Salma’s organization, her safety, the safety of those they’d freed, the IPT’s mission, all compromised. And the final domino. The big one.
He was being bribed. Stay in line. Do what we say. Keep our secrets. And we’ll protect your friends and business. Mob-like practices. He kept his face impassive. He’d give her nothing. Not even a sense of his annoyance.
“What do you want?”
Gracie jerked her head sideways, as if cracking her neck. Frustration? “What do I want? Or what does Momma want?”
“There’s a difference?”
“A big difference. Momma wants your help taking out Walid. She wants you brought into the family, into our inner circle. I have no idea how they can possibly think that you’re worth it. When other men, good men, are…lost to us.”
Brought into the family? This fact pissed her off enough that she’d told him about the offer before her mother had even made it. She must be seriously pissed off. People made mistakes, revealed things when they were angry. Good men lost to us? “So you don’t have sex yourself. Is that the reason you want to hear about your sister’s sex life?”
I Am Justice Page 13