Justice Incarnate (12 page)

"What draws you to him? What keeps you close when you know he's no good?"

"First of all, I know no such thing. There's no evidence to point to the Judge for the crimes against these girls."

"'These girls' aren't good enough for you? These girls want lives, families. These girls are trying to survive in a whacked society set against them. These girls are brave enough to keep surviving and you don't give a damn simply because they're mules?"

He waited to be certain her outburst was spent. "Quit twisting my point. There's no evidence, Jaden. And from a security stand point–is the Judge a likely threat?" He saw the fury blaze across her face and braced himself. But her expression mellowed into resignation.

"I don't want to fight with you," he continued. "I want to figure this out so we can restore your life. And mine." And why did he feel better thinking those lives should be intertwined?

Because she was a danger to herself, if no one else. Going off half-cocked against the likes of the Judge. Going out of her way to prove him wrong, to embarrass him in his own courtroom. She'd been baiting him–oh shit–could she be right? Could the Judge be pissed off enough to blow her place?

"That should be enough. You'll have your evidence and I'll prove I can play nice with others."

He hadn't heard a word she'd said.

"Well, coming sheriff?"

"That's Chief to you."

She gave a half smile and a shrug. "Same diff."

"Haven't heard that one in forever."

"Me neither. Put that away and let's rock."

He stashed the necklace and then rummaged through the purse for the gun and ammunition. There was no telling what she'd planned while he'd been shuffling facts in his head.

It seemed safe to bet on danger.

Jaden pushed open the discreet door between Micky's office and his security center. "Let's start here." She ignored the panel of monitors, hoping Brian would do the same. "I've matched up routes and schedules with attacks." She approached the table covered with her research and lit up the small computer that held Micky's personal notes.

"Any trends yet?"

She shook her head. "Not anything obvious, but–"

"Random may be the pattern," he finished for her.

"Right. Micky's mules--girls," she amended pointedly, "work their routes alone. Just one more thing tucked into a purse or backpack."

"Then who busted the route? And how?"

"You know anything's for sale. But if you're at the top of the pyramid, you can see it all."

"I thought Micky topped this food chain."

"Micky thought so too." Jaden looked up from the maps and notes on the table. "Why haven't you ever busted him? Not even a single inspection under false pretense."

"Despite your glowing opinion, Ms. Michaels, my department doesn't operate that way."

She snorted. "Of course it does. Micky runs sugar and nicotine, both banned substances, yet you've never hauled him in."

Brian shuffled his feet and became too interested in the paperwork. "He's not hurting anyone."

"Tell that to the Health Coalition."

"I have."

A trembling began in her knees, making Jaden glad for the nearby chair. She collapsed into it just as whimpers of a young new victim played an ominous backdrop to this revelation.

"When?"

"Four or five years a–"

She launched herself from the chair to his arms.

"Whoa, Bessie."

She wished she could laugh at his archaic turn of phrase. But her priority was holding on to him, to separate herself from the victim's agony. She heard him muttering nonsense in her ear, felt his hands soothe the bunched muscles along her spine and reveled in it a moment, before cursing her weakness.

"Sorry." She leaned back a bit, and then dared a full step more. But she kept her fingers twined with his as she resumed her seat.

"Can I have this back?" He tried to extricate his hand.

"No. Not yet." She checked the wall clock. "Five minutes, maybe ten."

"Explain," he ordered.

"Eventually."

With her free hand she scrolled through Micky's notes on his routes. "Trouble began about eighteen months ago."

"No connection there."

"I see a clear connection. Right there." She pointed.

Behind her, Brian snorted. "So Micky sees the Judge dining with the Health Chairman, so what? It's a free country."

"Used to be freer."

"That's not a word."

"Self appointed chief of the grammar police, now?" Aggravated, she tossed his hand back before checking the time. But her mind was her own, her eyes and ears only subject to the immediate irritants of the man next to her.

"If you won't dig into the Judge, please dig into the Health Chairman. He's the highest ranking official in the state."

"Leo Kristoff's clean."

"Not after dining with the Judge," she sneered.

"Hey, I've shared many a meal with Albertson." Brian held up a surrendering hand. "I know. I dug into the Judge's case file and saw your point."

She folded her arms across her chest. "But it didn't matter."

"It didn't convince me Albertson's the bad guy."

She sniffed.

He scowled. "Get up." He helped her to her feet, a bit roughly, but when she saw what he was up to she forgot to be offended.

Relief washed through her as Brian used the computer to hack into the police system. After several minutes he'd found and accessed files Chairman Kristoff had surely paid dearly to bury.

The current guru of good health had been caught during a bust of a specific back room of a mid-town restaurant. A room known to cater to the more disreputable desires of man.

"A dirty little town you run, sheriff."

"We all have a little grime under our nails."

Wasted breath to argue the truth. Before she opened her mouth, he said it for her.

"Even the judge."

"No way," she gushed.

"Way." He tapped the screen.

Her eyes widened. Only six months ago, Kristoff had been accused of contributing to the delinquency of a minor. Except the victim wasn't under eighteen. The case was thrown out of Albertson's courtroom–after the accuser was sentenced to two weeks of injections for attempted slander of the Chairman.

"But you'll say coincidence and hang me for murder in about two weeks."

"And here I thought you knew the system. You won't swing–you'll get a nice civilized injection."

"So will you, if we're caught. Now that you believe me, log off and let's get moving."

"Hold on. I believe Albertson's meetings are questionable, I believe you think he hurt you, but–"

"You don't believe in past lives, eternal purpose or much else I have to say. Got it."

His hand landed on her arm with just enough persuasion to keep her still. "Get this. I believe in justice and in the system designed to uphold it. If Albertson's abusing his power, I want him out as much as you do."

"That's not possible," she quipped, impatient to finish her task. Even to the apparently unalterable end.

"You don't believe me?"

She didn't care for his challenging tone. "I have reason to doubt you."

"Same goes." He came to his feet, crowding her.

Three ways to take him down came to mind immediately. All of them evaporated under the assault of his lips on hers. She matched his daring and raised with her passion. Pent up from centuries of abject longing, she poured herself into him.

He broke the kiss, but his mouth hovered so his words brushed her lips. "Trust me, Jaden."

How absurd that her heart should want to leap from her chest. This was a physical ploy, nothing more. She knew it. She understood the game better than most.

Too bad she couldn't recall the rules.

Chapter Seven

Time Stamp: 1215

I sank the dagger deep into his inconsistent blubber and seethed. For he laughed at me even as his blood pooled at my feet. Then his black soul slipped free.

Alas, the deed was again fruitless. I knew it before the cold sting of forged steel severed my head. The demon still held the advantage.

My lifeless body lay twisted and foreign beneath me as my soul rose, already fashioning apology and plea. For failure served no one and meant only more pain. When would my mission be fulfilled?

Chicago: 2096

He'd give a year's salary to read her mind. Even the nastiest interrogation methods wouldn't pry open a steely mind set on keeping secrets. And Jaden clearly had secrets.

He wanted to know if that kiss had left her reeling. If her response had been as unstoppable as his instigation. He'd tried to tell himself he'd applied the kiss like a tool. A basic way to determine if a woman juiced HgH to keep up with the men. But the telltale copper taste was absent from her mobile mouth. Brian stifled a groan and thought of cold, dead, two-headed fish to alleviate the rush of hormones to his groin.

They were back on the street at her insistence, tailing a mule–girl–on her way to a night job cocktailing on Wacker Street. Brian had more appreciation for his jeans and high tops after his stint in a skirt, but he still missed the familiarity of his jacket. Following Jaden's suggestion, he'd donned a Cubs ball cap, the better to play dead by.

He slid a glance over his 'partner', now a redhead thanks to a pixie-cut wig. With her tinted glasses, flowing dress and sandals, she looked nothing like the Jaden he expected. The only give, and only someone very close would notice, was her wary, take-it-all-in way of watching the world.

People continued to crowd into the restaurant district on this sultry near-summer evening. Left to his own, this would be a night he'd grill a steak and catch the game, but he supposed those easy nights were as dead as he supposedly was. His useless reverie died when Jaden tensed beside him.

"Another headache?" he asked. She'd had several; all shorter-lived than the one she'd experienced the night they met in her place.

"No." Her eyes were set on a corner at the end of the block. "Hang back a minute. Please?"

The manners were shocking enough. But he nodded and watched her approach a lanky man and a kid. They shied away at first, then whatever she said ended in a group hug. The scene made him all the more curious about the woman and her self-proclaimed mission. Disobeying her request, he joined them.

"Who's this?" the lanky man asked.

The kid blinked huge, suspicious eyes while Jaden surprised him by telling the truth. "The recently deceased Police Chief Thomas."

The man raised a brow, but stuck out his hand. "Cleveland."

Brian found the grip firm and the message in the hard eyes clear. Cleveland wanted Jaden kept safe. An easier task with a more pliable woman, but Brian suspected this guy knew the score.

"What's the trouble?" Brian asked.

"Quinn's sister is missing," Jaden replied.

"How long?"

"Since morning."

Brian nodded, slipping quickly into detective mode. "How old is she?"

Jaden's eyes flashed with gratitude. She'd caught his optimistic use of 'is'. First please, now thanks, what next?

"Twelve," the boy said.

Brian took a knee to look the kid in the eye. "Where were you and what were you doing?"

The boy swallowed, but answered with a sturdy voice. "We were stocking fruit for Caldwell's Deli. He trades an hour's work for breakfast, but you've gotta be the first one there and you can't bruise the apples."

Brian smiled at the kid's industry and waited for the details.

"Katie went to get another crate of reds and never came back."

Brian stood and shook his head. "We can call it in–"

"It's been nearly twelve hours," Jaden protested. "Cleveland, keep Quinn at your place. We'll meet there after I take a look around."

So much for manners and teamwork. Brian tugged Jaden back a step for an ounce of privacy. "What are you thinking? We're supposed to be tailing Maria."

"She's safe enough."

"Really?" Brian crossed his arms. "How'd you come to that conclusion?"

She glared at him. "Her hair's black. Katie's a blonde and a preteen. Double jeopardy."

Brian opened his mouth but Jaden's voice came out.

"Look, he's a friend. They've got no one else. You go ahead and keep an eye on Maria. I'll get the girl back and we'll meet up later."

"No."

Her brows arched over those stupid blue glasses.

"No," he repeated. "It's foolish to split up. If you say Maria's safe, we'll go for the girl. Where do we start?"

The stunned expression on all three faces made him want to bruise more than a few apples. Why the hell did being a cop make him subhuman? He settled for issuing Jaden a challenge instead. "What? Not up to a rescue in sandals?"