Stealing Justice (The Justice Team) (8 page)

“My mother is dead.”

Okay. So much for being a friend she would confide in. As his old partner could attest, Grey wasn’t always good friend material. What mattered was that he came through when it all went to hell and no one else was left standing.

He moved back and set down his cup. Folded his arms. There was still room to get her talking about her past. “Sorry to hear that about your mother. Must be rough not having any family around.”

She shrugged. “My mother has been gone a long time and my father has never been part of my life. I’m used to being on my own. Taking care of myself. That’s why I agreed to work with you. I’m dispensable.”

Ouch. “You don’t have to be alone anymore, Sydney. You choose to be. And, hey, you’ve got me.”

Her snicker lacked confidence in that fact. “We’ll see, Fed Boy.” She glanced at the pink box. “Do you like vanilla or chocolate?”

“Chocolate.”

She handed him a chocolate cupcake. “We’re off to a good start then. I like chocolate too. Now let’s sit down and you can tell me about my new job as a whore.”

Grey accepted the cupcake and steered her toward the table. “
Asset
. You’re an undercover asset for the United States Government.” He held up his cupcake and forced her half-eaten one into her hand. “Hold that up and repeat after me. ‘Fidelity, bravery, integrity. As an agent for the government, do you, Sydney Banfield, swear to uphold those values and protect your country from all acts of treason and terrorism, except those deemed appropriate by your invaluable partner, so help you God?’”

Sydney laughed. Really laughed. “You’re a trip, Fed Boy.” She held up her cupcake. “Fidelity, bravery, integrity. As an agent for the government, I, Sydney Banfield, swear to uphold these values and protect my country from all acts of treason and terrorism, except those deemed appropriate by my invaluable partner, yada, yada, yada.”

They clinked their cupcakes together and Grey stuck his finger in the frosting on his and licked it off. Fidelity, bravery and integrity…he was definitely going to need all three to handle this smart-mouthed, annoying and incredibly sexy woman.

Syd settled into her well-loved—nice way of saying freaking ancient—sofa and mentally prepared herself for Fed Boy’s mini-camp on becoming an undercover agent. Being a student had always appealed to her. As a kid she had loved the learning process. Embracing new concepts, challenging her mind to grow and awaken to new theories.

She had thrived on it.

Except when the professor drew charts.

And right now the professor leaned over her coffee table drawing some kind of numbered chart that sent a synapse in her brain into overload. She may have been sweating.

“Seriously,” she said. “You’re creating a chart?”

He didn’t bother to look at her and kept numbering. “Seriously. I’m creating a chart. It’s important.”

Syd rolled her eyes and waited for him to finish. This should be good. A chart for God’s sake. She let loose a loud huff and waited. Eventually, he set down his pen, tented the paper under his fingers and spun it toward her.

“Oh, goody.” She leaned forward to read, then shot a hard stare in his direction. “You’re giving me a list of rules for undercover operations?”

If the hard stare had any impact, it fizzled fast.

“I am.”

One thing was for sure, Fed Boy wasn’t afraid of her. “Have you learned nothing about me? You can’t box me in.”

“I’m not boxing you in. I’m giving you gentle guidelines.”

“That’s a load of crap.”

He grinned in that most annoying way men did when they thought they had the upper hand. “It might be, but it’s good crap. Shall we review the list?”

Maniacs. What was it about her that attracted maniacs? She’d need a valium after this lecture, but in the spirit of partnership, she’d give him an inch. Maybe less. At least she could listen. Then she’d absorb the information, break it into usable parts and do it her way.

Problem solved.

“Okay, hot shot. Let’s see what you’ve got.” She scooted forward on the sofa and pointed to the first rule on his list. “Rule number one: befriend Ian. Pfft, I’ve already done that.”

“No you haven’t,” Grey said.

Leave it to him to make things difficult. He just didn’t want to admit she already had the first rule locked. “I work for the man. We’re friendly. How do I not have rule number one completed?”

“You need to know him differently for this. You have to make him believe you want a job as an escort. The fact that he knows you so well might hinder that process. He has to buy that you’d be willing to become a call-girl when that goes against everything you’ve expressed in the past. Think about it. The objectifying of women? When would you ever let that happen?”

Maybe he had a point there.

Bastard.

“Rule number two:—”

“—which leads right into the point I just made.”

Could he be any more of a pain in the ass? She smiled at him, showing plenty of teeth so he could see her total amusement. “Have you ever considered therapy for this condition? I think it would help you. Immensely.”

“You are a wicked woman.” He leaned forward and tapped the tip of her nose. “But I love it.”

Syd coughed, made a gagging sound, stomped one foot and then gagged again. “Sorry. Hairball.”

Grey laughed and the easy, relaxed sound settled her racing mind. Even when she poked fun at him, he refused to be intimidated. “Rule
two
. Perform fishing expedition to see if Ian will offer a job as an escort.”

“Make him believe you want, no, need the job, Syd.”

“Not an issue. I’ll tell him I’m broke. Easy to believe on my salary. Rule number three: prove loyalty to suspect.”

Hadn’t she been doing that over the past two years by helping the women at the shelter? By keeping the place running? By taking care of every issue that cropped up?

Fed Boy touched her hand with just the tips of his fingers and the connection, no matter how light the touch, sent a surge right through her arm. Major sex appeal smothering this guy.

“I know what you’re going to say,” he said.

Actually, he didn’t, unless he was going to say that she wanted to strip him naked and jump him, which she didn’t think he would say. Nothing emotional, nothing long term. Just a good bang.

She held her hand for him to continue.

“You’ve proven your loyalty when it comes to his legal business and with helping the women create new identities. But he has deniability in that. With the escort service, there’s no deniability. He’s running it and you have to prove to him that you won’t turn him in.”

Unfortunately, she saw his point. What she did for Ian every day was radically different than what they were talking about here. Ian had to believe she could suspend her rally against abusive men and become a woman who allowed herself to be compromised.

At the hands of men.

She sighed. “Rule number four:—”

“What? No argument on rule number three?”

“Quit while you’re ahead. I get it. I’ll figure something out. This number four though, illicit illegal action that can be documented? I’m not having sex with anyone to prove he’s running a whore house.”

Grey threw up his hands. “Whoa! That’s not what it means. All you need to do is immerse yourself in that world. Watch, listen and take notes. Befriend the girls, get them talking and feed me information. That’s it. I’d never expect you to have sex with these assholes. It goes against everything I believe. Particularly when it comes to keeping my partner safe. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Yeah, they’d see about that. They’d see about it if it came down to Fed Boy making or breaking his case. Then she’d be, as she originally said, disposable.

Flat out, he didn’t seem the type to turn tail on her. Why she thought that, she couldn’t guess, and the feeling that was now hammering away at her—the one indicating maybe she should trust him—made her stomach pitch.

She glanced at him and found those dark eyes focused on her. Observing. “Don’t try to figure out what I’m thinking. If you need to know what it is, I’ll tell you.” She batted her eyes. “I’m not shy.”

“That much I’ve established.”

“So, I have your rules. Are we done?”

“No.”

She flapped her arms. “Jeez! What else?”

“You can’t rush the rules. Go slow. Tackle each one over a couple of meetings.”

“One rule spread out over multiple meetings? It’ll take forever.”

Originally, she’d suspected it, but now she knew this man was plain crazy. She didn’t have the time or patience to drag this thing out. She wanted it done with.

“If you seem too eager he’ll know something is up. How this works is, you groom him and if all goes well he’ll ask you if you want to be an escort. Then we’re in.”

“What if I can get it done faster? I mean, we’ve already established that he, on a certain level, trusts me. I could probably work the rules faster.”

“No. This is too important. Please. Take it slow. If you do this right, he’ll be begging you to work for The Smoking Gun. And that’s what we want.” He leaned forward, propped his elbows on his knees and leveled those puppy dog eyes on her. “Can you do that for me, Syd?”

Oh, puh-lease
. This guy was too good. She should smack him. Just
whap!
Except, she had to give him props for knowing how to work a girl. She’d been doing it to men for years now.

She moved to the edge of the sofa, put her face just inches from his. “I love a man who knows how to get what he wants. Very hot.”

He grinned. “Then we’re on the same page?”

“Let’s just say I understand your concerns.”

Understanding them and addressing them were two different things. Whether or not she could do this his way would have to be determined.

Later.

Much later.

Chapter Eight

Syd always liked Mondays. In her mind, Mondays meant a new start, a fresh canvas upon which to paint the week. As miserable and untrusting as she could be, it made little sense not to feel hopeful for the week ahead. Particularly in her line of work where one battered woman after another came and went from her life.

This particular Monday, Syd wasn’t feeling so hopeful. No. On this day, she’d just planted a listening device along the underside of the lamp on her desk. All to spy on a man she’d grown to admire for his unyielding support of mistreated women. For two years, Syd had watched Ian Goldberg fight tirelessly for the women in their care. Women who’d been wronged by men they loved. And who supposedly loved them.

All these years of shoring up her reserves, mistrusting the people who came into her life, hadn’t prepared her for this. Even if she’d been wary of Ian at first, eventually he’d won her over. And now, suddenly, Syd understood the betrayal the battered women who came to her must feel.

Then again, Fed Boy could be wrong. If so, that blasted bug under the lamp might tell them so.

A knock sounded on the closed door.

Showtime.

“Come in.”

Ian came through the door in his usual spiffy suit, silk tie and perfectly groomed blond hair. An attorney by trade, he made no bones about flashing his success. Until now, it never bothered Syd because he’d been giving so much back through the shelter. But if he were using the shelter as a front? Well, that would simply piss her off. And a pissed-off Sydney was not a nice person.

“Good morning,” Ian said. “Ready for our weekly meeting?”

Syd ticked off Fed Boy’s list of rules for undercover operations.

Rule one, befriend Ian.

Check.

Rule two, perform fishing expedition to see if Ian would offer her a job as an escort.

Here we go.

Syd glanced down at the credit card bill—prop number one—she’d brought from home. Slowly, she folded it, but made a point of frowning as she did so.

Ian cocked his head. “You don’t seem like yourself. Everything okay?”

“It’s nothing. Just a lot on my mind. Let’s get on with our meeting. I’m sure you have clients to see today.”

He eased into one of her guest chairs, making sure to unbutton his suit jacket before sitting. “You sure? If you need something, maybe I can help.”

Act natural.

She shook her head. “Thank you, but I’m fine. It’s nothing life-shattering.” She picked up a folder and handed it to him. “The weekly update.”

He set the folder down. “Syd, talk to me. Clearly, something is bothering you.”

A moment passed. She counted off another few seconds in her head, decided the pregnant pause was just pregnant enough and sighed. “My car is dying. It needs work, but it’s old and not worth putting any money into. My credit is stretched to the limit due to my student loans.” She smiled. “Thank you, Georgetown U. Anyway, I think I need a second job,” she held up her hand, “it’s only temporary. I won’t let it interfere with our work here. The shelter always comes first. I just need some quick cash to take care of the car issue.”

He waved her off. “I can give you a company car.”

She’d anticipated that and prepared for it. “Absolutely not. We’re a non-profit. Our benefactors wouldn’t understand having the expense of a car in our budget. Nor would I ask them to. All the money should go to the women, not to a car for me. Really, Ian, I’ll work it out. Let’s move on with our meeting.”

Ian eyed her. “What sort of work are you thinking?”

“No idea. I’m guessing retail. I’d have to do it in the evenings and on the weekends. Retail doesn’t pay all that much though.”

“Forget retail.” He sat back. “Evenings and weekends, huh?”

Yes, clever boy, keep thinking
.

Syd sat a little straighter, stuck out her boobs and hoped he noticed the extra button she’d left undone.

Prop number two: boobs.

His gaze moved to her cleavage—that prop worked—but immediately came back to her face. The folder sat in front of him and he flipped it open.

Fed Boy’s rule number three: prove loyalty to suspect. “Speaking of the budget. You’ll notice I updated the expenses. I moved some things around so it looks like we have less money than we do. Like you did last year around Christmas. We had an influx of donations last month after the interview you did with Channel 4. I don’t want the inflated numbers to call attention to our accounting.”