True Justice Read online

  “Let’s get this done. I have some more mess to clean up. It’s time to go deep. You’re the ONLY one who knows my real identity.”

  His mouth moved like a fish. Then the man grabbed his tongue and lopped it off as he bled out all over the countertop.

  Killing was a dirty job.

  He was okay with it. It paid the bills.

  And then some.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Wednesday

  Morning

  Two A.M.

  The mountain was all kinds of cold this late into the night. Unfortunately, on top of that cold, Dimitri’s fever was back, and Poppy was trying desperately to keep him from dying.

  It wasn’t looking good.

  He was shaking, and the lucidity he’d had before was gone. She needed to keep him awake so he wouldn’t slip into sleep and never wake up.

  “Hey, Dimitri, tell me about Russia.”

  “It’s cold there,” he muttered.

  “Colder than this?” she asked, running her hands up and down his sides to get him warm.

  “Yes.”

  “Just let me sleep,” he muttered. “Just let me go, Emma. I don’t deserve a family,” he whispered. “I failed. I need to disappear.”

  “I can’t do that, buddy. If you die now, I’m cuddled up to a corpse. That’s not a story I want to talk about. Come on, Mr. Gideon. Stay with me.”

  “So cold. I just want to die.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “I have never been worth anything. I was a mistake from the day my father raped my mother and created me. I’m nothing. I should never have survived his abuse.”

  That broke her heart.

  She’d learned a lot about him over the last few hours. He was funny, but he had a wicked temper too.

  “We have to stay warm.”

  “Just let me die.”

  “Want to make out?” she teased.

  That had him opening his eyes. Clearly, he wasn’t far enough gone where he’d turn that down.

  Well, good for her.

  She’d kept a man alive with kissing.

  “What?” he asked.

  “You know. Swap spit. Sucking face, or do you prefer tongue wrestling? I’m the ninth-grade tongue wrestling champion of my school.”

  He stared at her.

  “I don’t know what to say to that.”

  “Make out with me. I’ll keep you warm. It’s the ONLY way we’re getting off this mountain alive, and if you go, buddy, I go. You’re my heat source like I’m yours.”

  He blinked a few times.

  Was she serious?

  He was shot, a bloody smelly mess, and she wanted him touching her? She was beautiful.

  He had to be dreaming.

  “Am I asleep?”

  “No, we’re having a conversation. You didn’t hit your head, did you?”

  Still, he said nothing. Dimitri wasn’t sure about this woman. He knew he’d kissed her already, and he knew they were crammed into a sleeping bag together, but had she just suggested making out?

  “Did I pay you?” he asked.

  “To do what? Die on a mountain? Mr. Gideon, there’s not enough freaking money for that!”

  She almost mentioned how all that stood between her and her captain’s bars was his sister’s case and getting off the mountain, but she recalled his anger before.

  When in doubt, just make out.

  “Just kiss me already. It’s not like I’m a troll.”

  He started talking in Russian.

  She picked up some of it.

  Thank you, Grandma!

  “If I kiss you, I might not be able to stop. It’s been a while,” he said, as she was pressed to his body. He wasn’t dead, yet, and she was beautiful.

  A pipe dream, but still beautiful.

  “Let’s cross that frosty bridge if, and when, we get to it. Pucker up, my Russian icicle. Come on, baby, light my fire.”

  He moved closer to her, and his heart thumped. Other than his arm hurting like a bitch, he was feeling better. If they could get off the mountain, he’d live to fight another day.

  She didn’t hesitate.

  Poppy was so damn cold, she wanted to heat up in the worst way. She found his mouth and dove in for all she was worth. Plus, it wasn’t the worst feeling in the world. Dimitri Gideon was pretty hot.

  So, she didn’t stop.

  He held on, and she drove the kiss, making sure to put everything she had into it. He was moving more, and his good arm was around her.

  She moved closer, bringing her hands under his shirt and moving them over his second shirt to heat him up.

  Well, it worked.

  He went rock-hard.

  She could tell it wasn’t a froze dick against her but a hot, throbbing one.

  Jesus.

  Then he began kissing her back.

  She was wrong.

  She was NOT the tongue wrestling champion. This man could teach her one hell of a lesson.

  ANY.

  DAMN.

  DAY.

  He moaned as she rubbed against him.

  “Was that a good moan or an ‘I hurt your arm’ moan?” she asked, breaking the kiss.

  There was amusement in his eyes. In the firelight, she could clearly see that humor.

  That was an answer enough for her.

  “My arm is fine.”

  She went back to kissing him, and suddenly, she wasn’t cold anymore. She was feeling pretty damn good. Gone was that chill, and she was definitely hot.

  Overheating.

  Melting.

  He moved over her, bracing his body with his good arm, trapping her beneath him. She didn’t struggle to move him off of her, so he kept that contact in the snug sleeping bag.

  And he kissed her.

  Dimitri was foggy, but he knew he hadn’t been with a woman in a while. Marissa. Marissa was the last time he’d touched the opposite sex.

  Well, other than cuddling up beside Emma.

  Until he’d walked away from them.

  He began pulling away.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, as his body went stiff—and not in a good way. Immediately, he began moving off of her. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Emma,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

  Damn it!

  She was losing him again.

  “Come on, Dimitri. Fight for me,” she begged. “I need you to fight for me. If you go, I’m not going to survive,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He heard her.

  Instead, he retreated.

  Into the dark.

  And left her alone.

  * * * G R E Y S O N C R O F T * * *

  Wednesday

  Sky Villa

  She was up before anyone else in the condo, and that included their security guys. Elizabeth figured since this was Callen’s home, she was going to make herself comfy.

  That meant coffee.

  She was midway through the process of making coffee when Greyson Croft headed into the kitchen. He looked like the walking dead.

  “God, it was a short night,” he muttered.

  “Yeah, you had a few calls. I heard your phone ringing all night.”

  “My mother.”

  She said nothing more.

  It wasn’t her business.

  “Coffee?” she asked, pouring him some before placing it in front of him on the counter.

  “Yeah, where’s Ethan?”

  “He’s showering. Where’s Emma?”

  “Same.”

  “We need to talk,” she said.

  “I know,” he said. “You heard me losing it last night, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m good.”

  “You’re full of shit, Greyson,” she stated. “You are not good. If you were good, you wouldn’t have busted knuckles and the weight of the world on your shoulders. I know what that weight is like.”

  “Do you?” he asked.

  “Yeah, I do.” And she
did. She’d cut a baby out of her mother-in-law. That was one hell of a weight. She still had the nightmares to prove it.

  “You’re stressed.”

  He flexed his fist as he stared at the cuts. Well, at least they didn’t pop open and bleed.

  “I can do this.”

  “Do you have someone to help you who can keep you from flipping your shit?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  She sipped her coffee and studied him. She’d studied up on him through his old personnel file and her personal memories. The man had been a soldier. He’d been a sniper. He’d served his country, he’d come home and rolled right into the FBI. He’d been a no-nonsense field agent for years until he met Emma.

  Then he came here.

  And it all changed—and for the worse.

  “I get that anger that lives in you. I’ve wanted to kill something or put my fist through the wall a lot in the last year.”

  “Have you now?”

  If he thought that chilly attitude would work, she had bad news for him. She was married to the king of chill. Ethan could freeze a human being at five feet with just a look.

  Yeah, Greyson Croft wasn’t scary.

  “Yeah, I have a cuckoo after me too. I’ve seen it in Ethan and Callen’s faces. I’ve seen it live in them, and I’ve seen it kill a part of them. What’s meant to be is meant to be, and you can’t change it.”

  Oh, he was damn aware of that.

  That’s what sucked.

  For him.

  For Emma.

  For his son.

  “If you can’t do this, stay in with your wife. I’m going to assume she’s staying in since you’re not dead.”

  “She is.”

  Thank God.

  “Okay, well, you can pass on this one. I’m accustomed to this kind of thing.”

  “I am too. I was a Fed.”

  “Was.”

  She let it sit there.

  “I worked out of the Hoover building with you when you were just starting. I doubt you remember me.”

  “I actually do. You had a desk on the other side of Gabe’s office. You were back from being a soldier and you didn’t like BS or jackassery.”

  “I was damaged.”

  “We are all damaged,” she stated. “Ethan is a damn good profiler because he’s damaged. Callen is a great mediator because he is damaged. I’m a damn good crazy chaser. I am damaged. I’m probably the worst in the bunch. To do what we do, you have to have a few screws loose.”

  He sipped his coffee.

  “You just have to stop seeing it as a liability. You may be damaged, but you’re not garbage. You have the ability to do your job, and you are good at it.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m seldom wrong about other people. If I didn’t think you were one of the good ones, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be at home, and so would my husband. He could have sent anyone here to clean this up. He’s got minions out the wazoo. It’s bullshit that he had to handle this. He’s the DD. He can pass this bullshit off to anyone. He came here because of you.”

  Croft listened.

  “He sees value in you. Ethan respects you and how hard you worked to save this hellhole.”

  He appreciated that.

  “Ethan is a good man. I have always been able to trust him. I have always believed in his skills as a profiler and an agent. For the record, when you were a young Fed…”

  “Yes?”

  “I figured you were going to get yourself killed. I was wrong. You surprised a lot of people.”

  She laughed.

  “Who are we kidding? I surprised myself. I can’t believe I’m here, I have six kids, and…”

  “Uh, you have five kids.”

  She thought about Bethe.

  “No, it’s six, but that’s a long story. Watch the news. You’re a smart man. You’ll figure it out.”

  He was confused, but he’d take her word for it. She should know how many babies she had.

  “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  She understood that. Most of the time, she forgot to eat.

  “I honestly believed that I would get lucky in the food department when Emma got pregnant. The woman is trying to salad me to death. I swear I thought that pregnant women wanted to eat and enjoy pregnancy. She’s eating freaking lettuce. I’m grounding my son when he’s born. Daddy needs cookies.”

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “I ate burgers with all of my kids but one. I know what you mean,” she teased.

  She grabbed a box of baked goods out of the pantry and then headed back out.

  “Want a donut? They are my weakness. I know it’s clichéd, but holy shit! That sugar.”

  He rubbed his hands together.

  Then he stopped.

  “Will you rat me out?” he asked, as she ate a chocolate covered donut with some raspberry filling in it.

  “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” she said. “If you don’t tell my husband I have four guns on me right this minute, I won’t tell your wife if you make out with that glazed one right there.”

  He grinned.

  Then he shoved half a donut in his mouth.

  That’s when he heard his wife heading their way. She had the WORST timing.

  “Oh, flhuck,” he mumbled.

  Or something to that effect. Elizabeth couldn’t tell around the mouthful of donut.

  Then he dove into the pantry to finish it.

  It took everything thing she had to not laugh her ass off. He was a grown man and his wife…

  Yeah, funny.

  “Hey, Emma. Coffee?” she asked, popping the last half of the donut into her mouth.

  She pointed at her cup.

  “Okay, where is he?” she asked. “He can’t resist a baked good and if that box is open, he’s been here.”

  Greyson came out of the walk-in pantry with a box of bran flakes and a smile.

  She looked at him.

  They didn’t sleep much last night, and there was no freaking way he was going to be smiling about anything—let alone a box of bran.

  “You ate a donut!” she accused, pointing her red-manicured nail at him.

  He tried to look innocent, but it was a losing battle. If his wife kissed him, he’d taste like all kinds of sugar.

  He opened the box.

  “I did not!”

  She looked at Elizabeth for confirmation on his answer, and she was struggling not to laugh.

  She’d been a detective. This wasn’t her first day being a wife, married to a serial sugar eater.

  “Did he eat a donut?”

  Elizabeth took a second to swallow the last half of the one in her mouth.

  “Uh, I ate two. There were twelve. You’d have to count them to find out. I’m not the donut police, ex-copper,” she said with a gangster accent.

  Greyson shoved some cereal in his mouth the second his wife looked at him. There went the sugar taste if she kissed him—which she would. He knew his wife.

  She counted them and then shrugged.

  There were ten.

  “Good boy. Now you can have one.”

  “Really?” he asked reaching for them.

  Immediately, she slapped his hand.

  “No, because I’m not an idiot. You hate cereal, and the day you actually go get it is the day the world stops spinning on its axis. You already had one!”

  He started laughing.

  Ethan headed in, and he saw the donuts.

  “You made breakfast,” he teased.

  She winked at him and pushed the box toward him. Ethan picked out two donuts.

  “Why does he get donuts?” he asked, pointing at the man. “Why do I have the only wife in the world that won’t let me have some fun with donuts?”

  Elizabeth laughed and had a second donut.

  “Don’t look at me. I’m not his mommy. I don’t police his food. He’s a big boy. He can decide when he shouldn’t eat it.”

  That and th
ey were away from Chris, and they hadn’t eaten anything healthy since they got on the plane. IN FACT, Ethan had coffee, candy, and junk food for them.

  They were on healthy eating hiatus.

  “I don’t have a limit because I burn them off with lots of sex,” he answered, biting into one. “I have two spouses.”

  “I have lots of sex!”

  “You won’t be if you don’t get your cholesterol down, Greyson Croft. The doctor told you food or meds. You pick.”

  He shoved cereal in his mouth and mumbled something not so pleasant about bran and his doctor being a dick.

  Elizabeth glanced over as Ivan came in. He looked refreshed.

  “Someone slept,” she said.

  “Yep. Heath came in around three, and he’s still out. I’ll wake him when it’s time to go.”

  “Did he mention how they did?”

  “Yeah, nothing yet. They covered half the houses. Today, he’s on the mob man, and Gamble is going to go back out to keep going.”

  “Is no one going to mention that the man’s name is Gamble and we’re in Vegas?” Elizabeth asked. “No one is going to go there? It’s been driving me crazy since he said it.”

  Ethan laughed.

  “I sent him here. I do believe I chuckled for a couple hours.”

  She tossed Ivan a donut.

  “Did you lick it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He ate it anyway.

  “That will show you. I was a Marine. I ate a scorpion once that I found in a sandhill when I was nearly dying of hunger.”

  She slid him a coffee.

  “Anyway, myself and peaches, here, are heading to visit Robert Lee this morning. We’ll shakedown the man about him having a plant in the sex trafficking ring.”

  “I’m going to drop in and see my favorite cop and attorney. I hope Riley isn’t busy.”

  Emma laughed.

  Then he laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Delilah,” Emma said. “She’s a handful. That woman is a man-eater. She’s the best damn attorney ever. She hates men, but ironically, she loves her some cop.”

  “Cops are hot,” Elizabeth stated, pointing at her husband. “So, I’m there.”

  “I’m more an office drone.”

  “Speaking of which, what are you planning?” she asked him. Why point out that he could drone her any day of the damn week and twice on the weekends?