Deadly Justice (17 page)

He'd deal with that later, though.  Because right here, right now, he had a beautiful half-naked woman in his arms.  Reality would return soon enough, as soon as they landed in New Orleans.  In the meantime, snuggling up against Andrea didn't seem like a bad idea.  In fact, it felt downright perfect. 

T
he man certainly knew how to do things in style.  They'd barely landed before a limo pulled up and Carpenter—Samuel—herded her into it and they drove to the city.  Before too long, they'd pulled up in front of a large building with an old-fashioned storefront quality about it, the kind you'd see in old movies from the nineteen thirties and forties.  Where kids would run inside and get their penny candy while salesmen behind the counters helped their mothers gather dry goods. 

The red brick façade had a worn patina that suited the building, rising several stories high.  He ushered her out of the car and inside, straight into an ultra-modern reception area, a distinct contrast from the old-fashioned outside.  There were still touches of old world charm inside, like the natural brick walls, but everything else bespoke wealth and efficiency. 

He'd been barely restrained on the ride over, telling her all about the renovations he'd made to the old building, and couldn't wait to give her the grand tour.  Her breath caught in her throat when they'd walked through the front door.  The entire first floor consisted of a reception/security station in the front while several offices took up the rear half of the building.  The second floor contained a large conference room with a huge table, big enough to seat at least twenty people.  A few more offices dotted the hallway.  There was also a kitchen area complete with full size refrigerator and microwave and one of those single cup coffee makers with a ton of the little flavored cups. 

The next three floors were apartments.  He showed her one, and explained each apartment had identical floorplans.  They boasted two bedrooms, two bathrooms, up-to-date gourmet kitchens with stainless steel appliances, and large windows letting in copious amounts of natural light.  Or they would during the daytime hours.  Since the sun had set, she was treated to darkness and views of the bridge across the Mississippi River in the distance. 

“Wow, this is amazing.”  Each of the apartments was fully furnished with sleek lines and modern accents.  Not precisely her style, but it worked with the exposed brick and creamy off white paint scheme. 

“The construction crew just finished them.  Each member of my team will be offered an apartment if they're willing to relocate.  Ms. Willie also has one, on the floor below mine.”  Sam leaned against one wall, looking toward the river.  He grinned.  “She's been shipping personal stuff here for weeks and driving the designer nuts, wanting her place to feel like home.”

“I'd move here for one of these apartments.  They're fabulous.”

“Come on.  I'll show you the penthouse apartment.”  He held out his hand and after a second's hesitation she slid hers into it.  Why was she hesitating anyway?  It wasn't like he was going to jump on her the second they walked into a space with a bedroom.  Then again, maybe she'd be jumping him.  They'd definitely moved past the barely acquainted stage on the plane, with his tongue down her throat.  She hadn't put up much resistance, gave as good as she got.

The elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse apartment space, and her jaw dropped.  She'd never seen anything quite like it before, not even in magazines. 

“I think I'm in love.”  The gleaming hardwood floors shone, highlighted by the recessed lights, the dark color a stark contrast to the white leather furniture.  A huge sectional sofa with an overstuffed and plush chaise dominated the center of the living space.  Definitely not what she expected Samuel to choose.  He seemed to favor all clean lines and angles.  This space was designed for comfort.  While still sophisticated, there was a hominess to the place, where you'd be comfortable taking off your shoes and curling up on the huge white chaise with your toes tucked beneath you, watching TV or reading a good book. 

The living space opened onto a kitchen which could only be described as a world class chef's dreams.  A huge six burner gas stove held center stage, exposed red bricks behind it, the glass and chrome vent above highlighting it like a showpiece.  An island with a granite countertop stood opposite the stove and refrigerator, with a prep sink, and pendant lights hanging above, in addition to recessed lights throughout the kitchen space. 

“There are three bedrooms and three bathrooms, plus a rooftop deck.  Would you like to see it?”  Carpenter had walked up close behind her, his whisper of breath warm against her skin.  His hands rested lightly on her waist.  A pool of heat spread through her, and she had to swallow before she could answer.

“I'd like that.” 

“Come on.”  He opened a door on the left side of the kitchen, the one she'd thought held a pantry, but instead shielded a set of stairs.  She climbed behind him, and paused at the top, where another door led to the roof access.  With a sweeping motion, he allowed her to proceed first.  When she stepped through the doorway, her breath caught at the panoramic view of the city. 

The lights from the bridge illuminated the skyline, casting a myriad of shadows across the sweeping waterway, lending it an aura of mystery that was as ageless as the river itself.  The night around them seemed alive.  There was a faint buzz of activity from the streets below and the French Quarter in the distance.  She'd always wanted to visit the Crescent City.  Now it looked like she'd get her chance. 

“This is amazing.  I could look at this every day and never get tired of the view.” 

“I know.”  He stood behind her, slid his arms around her waist, and pulled her back against him.  Her body leaned into his, savoring the warmth and the closeness.  “I've missed it.  While I've lived in a lot of places, New Orleans will always be home.” 

“What made you leave?”

“Mostly work.” 

“With your security company?” 

“No, before that.  I did some work with the DEA.”  His arm tightened around her middle, and she felt his muscles constrict.  Obviously it was a sensitive subject, and she knew she shouldn't pry, but he'd broached the subject so she asked.

“The DEA?  I didn't realize you'd worked for them.”

“It was several years ago.  Started out doing grunt jobs mostly, and worked my way up.”  There was something in his voice, almost a hint of regret coloring his words. 

“You obviously didn't need to work, not with your family's money.  I don't mean to pry, but what made you decide to go into the DEA?” 

He stepped away and she immediately missed his arms around her, the warmth from his body against hers, but she understood he needed the space.  Stepping to the side, he leaned against the three=foot high brick wall surrounding the rooftop deck and stared off into the distance.  She wondered if he'd answer.

“My sister got caught up in a destructive lifestyle that led her down the wrong path.  By the time I found out what she'd gotten into, it was too late.”

His sister
.  That explained a lot but raised even more questions.  The entire time she'd known him, albeit not that long, he'd never spoken about a sister.  Which in itself was an answer, wasn't it?

“When you talked about the influential, well-to-do dealers getting away with smuggling and distributing drugs—somebody like that got her hooked, didn't they?”

Instead of answering, he hopped up on the three-foot high wall, and the breath caught in the back of her throat.  If he fell—

“Her best friend in school had an older brother.  He'd invite the girls to parties, escort them.  Gave them everything they could possibly want.  Weed, cocaine, heroin, meth. All they had to do was mention it, and he'd supply it—no charge.” 

He walked the edge of the wall like a tightrope walker on a two-inch rope suspended high above the crowds.  Without a safety net.  Never a flinch or a bobble, he was surefooted, the picture of grace and elegance.  And she was terrified.  One wrong move, one misstep, and he'd be gone forever.

“Please, Samuel, come down from there.  You're scaring me.”

He looked at her with a slow-eyed blink.  It reminded her of a cat, focused on its prey.  Blink.  Pause.  Blink.  With an effortless bound, he jumped to the roof's surface and she exhaled the breath she'd been holding. 

“Sorry.”  He walked over and eased himself atop one of the double-wide chaise lounges in the corner of the roof, all contained power and elegance, his body merging seamlessly into the indulgent fantasy decoration of the rooftop oasis.  A large outdoor rug covered a good third of the entire rooftop in a swirling pattern of blues and greens and tans.  It evoked a feeling of the surf washing up along the beach.  Two large extra-wide chaises stood side-by-side, along with four overstuffed chairs, all beneath a canopy stretched overhead, which leant the illusion of privacy away from prying eyes, yet gave the freedom of being outdoors.  She wasn't surprised at the extra-large seating—he was a big man, after all. 

Each corner held a plethora of greenery, with plants in huge ceramic pots, tall and resplendent against the worn patina of the red brick façade.  Shorter bushes abundant with night-blooming flowers also filled colorful pots, transforming this secret getaway from the world into another place and time, offering a reprieve from the daily grind.  She couldn't help wondering if the entire team would have access to the roof, or if he'd be keeping it for his own private paradise.

“She had everything money could buy.  A family who adored her.  The young pampered princess.”  He inhaled a shuddered breath.  “I adored her.  She was my baby sister.  I can still remember when my parents brought her home from the hospital.  I was six and I promised I'd be the best big brother anybody ever saw.  Instead, I let that son of a bitch kill her.” 

“Sam, you can't blame yourself.   Was she old enough to make her own choices?”  She clenched her hands into fists to keep from reaching for him, to run her hands along the bunched muscles beneath his dress shirt.  No wonder he always seemed wound tighter than a spring.  He carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“She was almost twenty.  An honor student at Tulane.  Such a useless waste.”  He scrubbed his hands over his face, but she caught the sheen of moisture in his eyes.  It was obvious he'd adored his little sister, and still felt responsible for her mistakes. 

“So she was old enough and smart enough to know the decisions she was making and the possible outcomes.  You mentioned her friend's brother got her involved in drugs.  What happened to her friend?”

He barked out an ugly laugh.  “She's currently sitting in a cell for trafficking in narcotics.  The bitch didn't have any problem dealing to all her college friends, and her brother gave her everything she needed.  Prescription painkillers were her biggest sellers.” 

“She worked with her brother?”

“It's how they always had so much money.  Hell, they funded her college tuition by keeping the students and faculty supplied with everything they could afford.”

“I…really never knew how far-reaching the problem went.  John told me about some of his cases, but they were always the dealers off the streets that he arrested.  Junkies selling dime bags to the down and out.  Not well-to-do young people with their entire futures ahead of them.”

He stretched out on the chaise and folded his hands behind his head, the pose casual but a mixture of anger and loss were painted across his face in the stubborn set of his jaw and the blaze in his eyes he couldn't disguise. 

“For most cops, those are the cases they deal with on a daily basis.  DEA gets called in when you're tracking the bigger deals, the ones with more sophisticated smuggling routes and the people who make it possible to funnel that crap across the border.  Agents on the take.  Warehouse owners who turn a blind eye to the shipments being scored right under their noses.  Truckers who don't give a damn what's in their rigs, as long as they see the greenbacks at the end of the day.” 

Her long hair fluttered against the side of her face with the slight night breeze, and she carelessly tucked it behind her ear, intent on his words.  Maybe he'd tell her how Richard Webster figured into all this.  Should she come right out and ask, or bite her tongue and see if he'd keep talking?

“Go ahead and ask.  You're dying to know.  Hell, Andrea, don't ever play poker with me.  You'd lose your shirt.”  A big grin spread across his full lips.  “Then again, let's play.  A couple of hands of strip poker might be exactly what we need.” 

“You didn't need a deck of cards on the plane to get me out of my shirt.”  She clamped her lips shut, felt the blush stealing into her cheeks.  What made her say that?  Reminding him of how easy she'd been.

“Don't, baby.  What happened between us is nothing to be ashamed of.  You're a beautiful, sexy woman and I sure as hell couldn't resist you.”

She shook her head.  “It can't happen again.  This,” she waved a hand between them, “whatever it is, can't happen.  Not until Webster has been caught and thrown behind bars for the rest of his miserable life.” 

Swinging his legs off the side of the chaise, he sat facing her.  “Catching Webster has been my number one priority for the last three years.  That son of a bitch will pay, trust me.  But what's going on between us, you and me?  Why can't we explore it, see where it leads?”  He raised his hand, palm facing out, when she started to protest.  “No.  The pull we're feeling isn't something that comes along every day.  Let's be honest.  I don't play games when it comes to sex.”  He chuckled then.  “Well, actually I do, but not with people's emotions.  Too many people could get hurt if there's not honesty.  What we feel is strong, and different enough that I want to explore it.  It couldn't have happened at a worse time, not when I'm this close to finally having Webster exactly where I want him.”

He patted the cushion beside his thigh.  With a small sigh, she walked closer and sat beside him, letting him take her hand between his.  A little flutter in her stomach intensified when he raised her fingers to his lips and placed teasing kisses against them.