I Am Justice

by Diana Muñoz Stewart

  Her face heated. She took a step back. “Justice spoke to you about me?”

  Damn. He’d only been guessing, but he’d struck bone. And she looked anything but annoyed or suspicious. She looked hurt.

  Sandesh pushed back in his chair. It creaked as he tried to snap his spine into better alignment. “Let’s say I agree to help you.”

  He brought his hands up. Maybe a bit too quickly. Gracie flinched, reached under her jacket.

  There was a moment of silence. His heart thudded in his chest. She drew her hand back out without the gun. Damn, were all these women just waiting for the entirety of the male population to go berserker on their asses?

  He desperately wanted to ask her that, ask her if she thought he’d be putting up with this bullshit if it weren’t for her sister, but he didn’t trust her. He sensed she hid more than she said. And he didn’t need to give her any more information.

  The whole reason he’d agreed to come here, to be blindfolded, to talk to this lunatic, was to keep Justice safe. Although Justice was scarce on details, someone in this family had betrayed her. He intended to find out who. And make sure they couldn’t do it again.

  “I’m in. For as long as it takes to find and take out Walid. But that’s it. Justice and I have a personal relationship. If she wants you to know more, ask her. Or you can steal into her room at night and read her diary.”

  Gracie laughed. She quickly schooled her features. “You’re kind of a bad boy. A bad boy who likes to do humanitarian stuff. Is that your story?”

  “And I’m sticking to it.” Though the whole bad-boy thing made him sound like a thug and not a trained professional. He had better things to do than throw down over poor word choice.

  Gracie sat on the edge of the table, close enough that he could smell her perfume. It smelled like fruity candy. He kept his eyes locked with hers. She leaned over, showing much more cleavage than he was comfortable not noticing.

  He pushed up from his chair and stood. Justice had some messed-up family. She eased off the table and followed him. He stepped back. She stepped forward.

  “What are you doing?” If he didn’t think she’d bring out her gun, he’d have put his arms out to impede her. She was practically pressed to his front.

  “Come on. I saw you checking out my backside.”

  He laughed out loud. Backside? She had to be joking, right? “I want to speak to your mother. The sooner the better. And like you, I look at a lot of people. Evaluate them. It’s reflex.”

  She stopped, tilted her head. “Momma was right. You are a good man.”

  Seriously? “So what, you were using your looks to try and manipulate me into revealing what a dog I am?”

  She shrugged.

  No. Not good enough. “First, my actions aren’t that involuntary. I don’t knee-jerk fuck women. Second, and this I really don’t get, how can a group of women dedicated to female equality use their own sexuality to gain position? Isn’t that what you’re fighting against?”

  Gracie slapped a hand to his chest. “If you’re stupid enough to fall for those things, if you can’t overcome your own programming, please don’t think that I’m dumb enough not to use that to my advantage.”

  Damn, these Parish women were as scary as hell.

  * * *

  After escorting him through a set of double doors and down a bland, gray-and-white hallway, Gracie led Sandesh inside a brightly decorated office. Mukta Parish’s office.

  The moment Gracie showed him inside, Sandesh knew he’d be doing whatever they wanted.

  Justice.

  She stood up, turned. Those eyes—a deep darkness that captured pinpricks of light and turned them to stars—beamed. Like he carried something she’d been waiting for. Something she desperately needed.

  Damn. He wished he could be angry. Forget this woman who’d told him her nightmare as a way to offer comfort. Forget that she’d risked herself for a child. Forget the seamless nighttime eyes that had launched the grenade that had saved them. Forget the lost and broken parts. The way she’d sung to him. The way she’d threaded her hand through his. Threaded her body around his. Threaded herself around his heart.

  He should have been angry. He wanted to be. But he understood her too well. And he understood that leaving him had been her way of protecting him.

  But he didn’t need her protection.

  He walked to her. What had they done to her? She looked so…shaken. Behind her, Leland and Mukta exchanged glances. He didn’t care. If they wanted his cooperation, they’d have to put up with him being here. For Justice.

  Her dark eyes. So beautiful and intense he had to swallow the pain in his throat.

  She lowered her eyelashes. “You looked so peaceful sleeping. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. He held on to the smile. Barely. “I appreciate you leaving my passport at the airport. Kind of you.”

  She whispered, “You don’t have to join my family. This mission.”

  Oh hell. He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done, Justice. I’m in it with you.”

  She put her hands around his waist, tugged him closer. He could feel the entirety of her—the spread of her hips, the bend in her shoulder, the length of her neck, the muscles in her arms, the tip of her nose, the lay of her forehead against his cheek. Everywhere she touched left an impression of her as sweet and powerful as her kisses, her sighs, her tears, curses, laughter.

  He loved this woman. Not going to tell her that. Not here. At least not with words.

  He tipped her head up and kissed her.

  He’d expected her to hold back. Family in the room and all. But she didn’t. She dipped her tongue into his mouth, tasted him as unconsciously and fully as if they were alone.

  Sharp heat knifed through his body. He should walk away. Protect his heart. Not just his heart, but his charity. Too bad his programming, as Gracie put it, didn’t work that way. They broke apart. A moment longer and it would’ve gotten really awkward.

  “Tagged and tailed,” he said, rubbing his nose along her proud forehead.

  Justice stepped back. Her eyes widened. “You’re okay with inserting the GPS?”

  He didn’t know how to answer that. Okay with it? Not at all. But he’d learned to be okay with sacrifice, the kind of sacrifice that could only tilt the scales toward justice.

  His eyes scanned the others in the colorful office: Mukta and Leland. They’d manipulated him into a spot where he was forced to cooperate. Well, they’d be forced to do things too.

  “Of course, I’m going to need some things in return. Like Mukta agreeing to fund the IPT startups for the next ten years.”

  Mukta and Leland exchanged another glance. Their eyes conveyed messages only two people who were genuinely close could read. He wondered if they suspected the truth.

  He really didn’t want any ties to Parish Industries or their covert operations. Not for ten years. Not for two.

  But he knew people like Mukta and Leland. He knew that they’d figure his attraction to Justice wouldn’t be enough to keep him in line indefinitely. His offering them part of the IPT assured them that he was in this for the long haul. Another cog in their giant wheel of using peace operations to secretly kill and maim in the name of a higher cause. But until he was able to extricate himself and the IPT from that, he needed them to believe he was part of it.

  Mukta nodded thoughtfully. “We could discuss such details.”

  “Mukta?” Leland said. “Is it wise to tie the school to the IPT right now?”

  Sandesh couldn’t help the bitter laugh. “So let me get this straight. You compromise the IPT’s name, organized crime is now after me, and when I ask for a little reimbursement for the charity you’ve all but destroyed, you take issue with my reputation.”

  Leland put a hand on his waistband. Yep. Carryi
ng.

  Justice stepped slightly to her left, more fully between him and Leland. “Enough,” she said. “We’re connected. This is just money.”

  Leland arched a brow at that.

  “Done,” Mukta said, ending all objection. “I owe you, Sandesh. You saved Justice and kept our secrets. I might not know much, but I know that decency deserves my respect.”

  “Funny, the last thing I feel is decent. In fact, I’d like to go home and get a shower. If you don’t mind.” He stepped past Justice, held out his arm for the tracer.

  Leland reached into an ivory box on the desk. He opened it and pulled out an instrument that looked like a weapon to Sandesh, but he guessed would insert a microchip.

  “This tracking device will give us an update on your location every fifteen minutes.” The message being that he would be constantly watched. “As head of Internal Security, I can see your exact location at any time.”

  He loaded the device with a silver cylinder. “With this, you’ll have access to this home and to areas within. Justice will show you around. But when she’s not here, you’ll know when you don’t have access, because those doors won’t open to you.”

  Leland placed the cold barrel of the instrument against Sandesh’s wrist and pressed. There was a pop and a sharp stab of pain. Heat spread along his skin. He looked at his arm. For one moment, he saw the outline of something. Then he flexed and released, and the chip sank away.

  Justice reached out to him. Her hand shook as she traced over his wrist. Her fingers brushed back and forth. Her thick eyelashes lowered, fanned across her skin, blinked, and lifted. Her eyes, those fall-into-deep-waters-after-a-storm, those cool, sunless depths invited him in. “Ready to be initiated as a warrior woman?”

  He huffed. “Sounds incredibly painful.”

  She laughed, winked at him. “Actually, it all started with your elevator ride. How did you feel about going down, Sandesh? Want to go again?”

  He wished he could’ve controlled the shocked laugh that broke from him. Or the heat in his face. Or the instant surge of lust. But this was Justice. And some things were just out of his control.

  “How’s tomorrow? I need to check in on my mother.”

  Justice cocked her head. “Stop trying to seduce me.”

  Chapter 41

  Justice stood in the hallway of the Conshohocken apartment building and took out her cell. She added a contact, assigned a speed dial number. The only person she’d ever done this for. She pressed that number—one.

  He answered on the fourth ring, his voice fuzzy. “Justice? It’s”—he paused, probably checking his clock—“seven a.m.”

  Oh, he sounded so vulnerable when he was sleep deprived. Just the thing a girl could take advantage of. “Open up. I’m outside your apartment door.”

  “What? Security didn’t call me.”

  She snorted. Someone doubted her stealth skills. “Still here.”

  She hung up, smiling. A moment later, the covering over the peephole clicked open and then closed. The door swung wide open, his body positioned behind it, so she was offered unfettered access.

  Trusting.

  She walked inside. The apartment had an open floor plan with natural wood floors. Kitchen with a breakfast bar. A two-person, bar-height table by a sliding glass door that led to a balcony. A gray leather Chesterfield sofa with thick scroll arms and a high back, flanked by two equally deep upholstered chairs. And a huge flat-screen TV stationed on the wall over a fireplace with a green-marble mantel. She liked.

  She turned at the sound of the door closing.

  Whoa. So fucking hot. Disheveled hair. Shadow-lined jaw. That just-woken-up confusion in his bleary, blue eyes. And, hello. At least one part of him was awake. She grinned. “So, you sleep in the nude.”

  He moved like a panther, grabbed her by the waist and dragged her up against his hard-on. He kissed her, skilled and insistent, as if the time they’d spent apart had been years and not days. His need, his wordless hunger, took her breath away. And set her on fire.

  She arched into him. He smelled so good, like sleep and man. Warm, velvety liquid saturated her panties.

  His demanding lips worked against hers. His stubble scratched against her. His hot hands traveled up her body. He pulled out her hair tie, tangled his hands in her hair, and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss.

  Man knew how to kiss. Their tongues, wet and hot, and their lips, soft and needy, reacquainted themselves. Their breaths grew strong enough to force them to break apart.

  His breaths ragged, his hands grasping her hair tight enough to hurt, he said, “Take your clothes off.”

  That was an excellent idea. Too bad she didn’t have enough air to say that. She guided his hands from her hair, stepped back, unbuttoned her shirt, tossed it, undid her bra, freed her breasts. He groaned out loud.

  Loving the stark need on his face, she unzipped her black jeans, turned her ass in his direction, and lowered pants to ankles. Without bending her knees.

  “Dear God.”

  What man didn’t appreciate a good thong? She took her time unlacing her boots, flicked them off, wiggled out of her jeans, and made a show of losing the thong.

  When she stood, he came up behind her, pressed his hard body against her ass. He ran a hand over her breasts, squeezed and fondled them. “Fuck, Justice. I need you.”

  Good to know.

  He reached down to her clit, stroked her silky wetness, and grunted in male satisfaction. Two long fingers crooked inside her, nearly causing her to orgasm. She was strung that tight, so ready.

  He slid his fingers in and out, the palm of his hand rubbing against her clit as his breath raged loud in her ears.

  “Sandesh. That feels so good.”

  He pumped his fingers faster, pressing his other hand flat against her stomach, pulling her tight against his hard-on. With him behind her, his hot breath in her ear, his arms stretched across her front, she felt enveloped by him. He was so big and warm and solid.

  Her body tightened and tightened. The tension built and strengthened. She panted hard. Trembling, electric pulses rode over her, shattered her. She curled her toes, arched her head back into his shoulders, and dug her hands into his biceps. “Oh. Sandesh. Sandesh.”

  He whispered to her as she came, “Watching you come. Can’t get enough.”

  The aftershocks tingled through her as he slipped his fingers out. She turned to him instinctively, seeking the hardness of him between her throbbing legs. They kissed, wild fury, crazed excitement.

  She broke from him. “Ride me hard,” she said.

  He grinned, gazed around the room. “Lady’s choice.”

  Oh, yes and yes. She pushed away from him and went to the end of the couch, draping herself over the tall scroll arm. Cushiony.

  She put her hands flat against the seat, turned her head, and raised an eyebrow at him. “How’s this?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He licked his lips. “Prettiest sight I’ve seen in my entire life.”

  He moved behind her, rubbed a hand along the curve of her ass, squeezed, spread her cheeks, and thrust into her wet and throbbing core.

  She cried out at the insistent pull and stretch. Deeper and deeper he went, until the tip of his cock pressed against the wall of her cervix.

  With a steady exhale, he began to pull out. Slowly.

  He was torturing her.

  She was about to tell him so when he slammed himself back inside her, fast and rough. She gasped. Her hands slipped. She re-braced against the cushion, panted at the increase in speed and friction.

  Her core trembled and tightened around his thick thrusts, and she watched him, the beauty of him, reflected in the glossy blackness of the TV screen.

  His long, muscular frame with one palm pressed flat against the curve of her back. His head tipped down to wat
ch where he entered her, a look of exquisite need on his handsome face. His perfect ass tight and hard as he pumped into her.

  He thrust so rapidly her clit began to rub against the couch. Still sensitive from what his fingers had done, this caused an intense reaction. “Oh God.”

  Caught between him and the couch, the friction so delicious it took only a moment of pure bliss for her to come again. She cried out as electric pulses crashed into her. The tremors obliterated awareness of everything but the overpowering, exquisite release.

  Panting, the muscles in her arms tense, the jolting aftershocks of the orgasm made her wiggle and squirm under Sandesh as he pumped hard into her.

  She pressed the tips of her toes against the floor, raising herself up, giving him greater access.

  “Justice,” he said. And there was no doubt that he meant it as a warning. He wouldn’t last much longer.

  She’d already had two orgasms, but he was angled just right. And the walls of her body tightened and squeezed as the pressure of his cock rode into her, stroked and pumped, rubbed against her G-spot.

  The thick width of him plunging with frantic abandon…the feel of him… So good. “Yes. Yes. Don’t stop.”

  Greedy, sure. But it felt so damn good.

  He grunted something that might’ve been, “So fucking beautiful,” then slapped himself into her again and again and again.

  She whimpered and moaned and shuddered beneath him as another wave of pleasure rose and rose and crashed through her.

  Nearly on top of her shout, he came inside her with a drawn-out groan so scorching hot it singed her ears.

  The rub and tug of her final orgasm slowed with his pace. Breathing like he’d run a four-minute mile, he slumped over her, kissed her on the back of the neck. Her body was so charged with energy, so tender to the touch, that she jerked.