Justice (34 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Harlow

BOOK: Justice
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Shit.

I hate you.

He caresses my cheek with another smile.

I hate you too.

***

I can feel it the moment I walk in the door. Call it experience or intuition, but I just know there’s something off in this house. It may not be the homiest, but the house never felt this oppressive or melancholy. It’s as if a shade has been drawn, not allowing any light to filter in. Fear and urgency grip me.


Justin!

I shout. Harry walks in behind me.

You check upstairs,

I tell Harry.

As Harry runs up the stairs, I rush into the kitchen, then the parlor, library, dining room, games room, conservatory, Florida room, study, and finally the living room. Not a trace. Harry meets up with me just as I walk in from the patio.

He’s not upstairs, and the staff seems to be gone as well,

Harry says. We both glance at the fireplace.

I reach in and trip the switch for the door, and we rush in. There’s no sound except for our footsteps as we run down the ramp to the command center. The computers and lights are on and there’s a red light flashing overhead, but no Justin. What really catches my eye are the three white envelopes and a large binder sitting on the couch. One each to me, Lucy, and Dobbs. As I rip open mine, Harry checks the binder.

It’s an instruction manual for the lab equipment and computer,

Harry says, but I barely register his voice because of the pounding in my ears as I read.


Jo,

You were wrong.
You
saved
my
life.

I’m sorry.

Love, Justin


Oh, fuck,

I say under my breath as I crumple up the note. My head whips over to Harry.

Call the dispatcher. We need an APB out
now
!

I snatch the instruction manual out of his hands and race over to the computers. He’s even provided the password,

RichBoy.

Harry makes the call, as I start flipping through the book looking for anything of use. There’s just too much information and not enough time. Hell, for all I know he’s done it already. I just stare at the monitor, too panicked to think clearly. He won’t do it. He
can’t
. I couldn’t bear it.


Jo,

Harry says, touching my shoulder. I didn’t even see him come over.

Think. Where could he have gone?


I—I don’t know.


Did he have a favorite spot? The park? His boat? Work?


I don’t know!


You know him better than anyone else. Think!

Okay. Okay, I can do this. Rebecca’s house? Possible. The boat? Not as likely. He’d want as little fuss as possible. Wouldn’t want us to be scarred by finding him looking gruesome. And he has super-healing. A gun wouldn’t work unless it was a shotgun to the head. Pills and slitting his wrists are out too, as is hanging, I think. So how the hell…

You know, that might work.


I think I know where he is.

We run for the car. Five of the longest minutes of my life later, I’m proved right. Harry drives along Pendergast Bridge in our borrowed car as slow as he can as I scan both sides. We’re about halfway across when I spot a figure in the darkness, almost like a phantom. If I wasn’t looking closely, I’d have missed him. Harry pulls the BMW over, and I barely wait for the car to stop before leaping out.

If he notices me approaching, he doesn’t let on. He just stares down at the black water, lost in his own personal hell. Cars drive by as if we’re not even here, oblivious or not even caring about the man leaning dangerously on the railing.

Do you need help?

His gaze whips in my direction. At first he’s startled, blue eyes wild and frightened, but then I smile and his face falls. He turns back to the abyss, but I keep walking slowly toward him until I’m right beside him, folding my arms on the railing. If I wasn’t up close I wouldn’t recognize him. He hasn’t shaved in a week, his hair is greasy, and dark circles rim his eyes. All the light in him is gone.

You look like hell, rich boy.

He still won’t look at me.

How did you find me?

he asks, voice gravelly.


I just thought, ‘If I was going to kill myself, where would I do it?’

I say with a small smile. When I don’t get a reaction, I punch him in the shoulder.

Come on, that was a good one.


What are you doing here, Jo?

he growls.


Saving you. Thought that was pretty obvious.


I don’t want you to save me.


Tough.

His face contorts in rage, and he shoves me away.

Get the fuck out of here!

Out of the corner of my eye I see Harry move forward, but I hold out my hand to stop him. My eyes never leave Justin.

You know there’s no way in hell that’s happening.


Why?

he spits out.

You hate me. I—I lied to you. I almost got you killed, for Christ’s sake! Everything! Everyone I touch, I destroy. Rebecca! Daisy! Lucy! You! I’m toxic, Jo. I can’t,

he says, voice cracking,

I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t. No matter what I do, it’s never enough.

He turns back to the edge, quivering with emotion. I’m losing him.


If you do this, Alkaline triumphs.
This
is what he wanted. Don’t give him the satisfaction. Don’t you dare let him win.


Jo, I can’t…I can’t…

He’s close to hyperventilating and almost doubles over.

I take a deep breath to calm myself before stepping back over to him. I don’t say anything for a moment, just let him get used to my presence again.

You know, people have asked me, rather rudely, through the years why you and I are friends. They assume it was because you were rich and gorgeous, and I was madly in love with you. I didn’t blame them because if I was them I’d think the same thing.

I shrug.

But actually, I stuck around in spite of that stuff. I hate parties and designer clothes. And you are nice to look at, but I could have done that through magazines. And as for the loving you thing…I
hated
the fact you didn’t love me back. There were even a few times when I considered cutting all ties because it just hurt too much.

He opens his mouth to respond, but I nod,

I don’t hold that against you. I never did.


I really had no idea,

he says.

I am
so
sorry.


That one’s not on you, rich boy. You couldn’t help it anymore than I could. So no, I’m not your friend for anything I could get out of you. And I’m not your friend because of what happened right here twenty years ago. I know without a doubt had we met at the movies or at the park or something, we’d still be friends.

I catch his gaze and for the first time he meets my eyes.

Because in spite of the lies, the whole unrequited love thing, all of it, I know
you
. I know your heart. I know your soul as well as I know my own.

I take his hand.

Because, you see, that’s what they don’t understand. We’re the same. Same heart, same soul. Two halves of the same whole. And nothing,
nothing
will ever change that. I know you’re hurting. I know how attractive eternal nothingness is. I do. But I also know you are no coward. You are a fighter. A survivor. A hero. And…a lot of the time that sucks. It’s painful, hard. And
not fair
. But what is? You are the Champion of Galilee. The righter of wrongs. Defender of the weak. This city needs you. I need you. Because I know as long as I have you, I can survive anything. And if that’s true for me, then it’s true for you. I trust you, and I love you.

I cup his hand to my cheek as I sniffle.

And shame on you if you throw that away.

He bursts into heart-wracking sobs and falls into my welcoming arms. We cling to each other for dear life, crying on each other’s shoulders like we’ve done a hundred times before, and will continue to do until the day we die. He lets go first, and we wipe each other’s tears off, chuckling.


I love you,

he says.


I love you too.

I kiss him chastely on the lips.

Now, let’s get off this fucking bridge.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Villains

Why has my life become all about déjà vu?

Here I am at a gala event, dressed to the nines in a black cocktail dress watching the society set walk past me with looks of pity, and my boyfriend is a no show. I’ve called him twice and no answer. This is getting a little old.

I wait outside the hospital ballroom in the hallway scanning the crowd. Someone is always throwing a charity event for the hospital so they converted a meeting room into a ballroom some years back. I’ve come to this hospital for parties more than as a patient. The usual suspects are here, hopefully with their checkbooks, looking pleased until they see me. They have no idea how to react, uncomfortable being what they settle on. No eye contact, just half smiles before scurrying into the party. Geez, I survive one little supervillain attack and they act like it’s catching. At least most of the bruises and cuts are covered with make-up, otherwise they’d hiss and cover their faces like a vampire confronted by a cross. This is why Harry needs to get his butt here. The only person willing to speak to me is busy with his charity event.

Though never busy enough to neglect me. Justin walks out of the ballroom and through the line of well wishers toward me.

Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I’m about to make my speech.


Crap,

I mutter, not taking my eyes off the end of the hall.


He’ll get here, Jo.


Well, he doesn’t exactly have the best track record.

I groan in frustration.

Okay, if he’s not here in five minutes, I’m personally going to track him down, Taser him, and drag his butt here and make him spend all night listening to Bitsy talk about her new bathroom tile.

Justin chuckles.

What?


I pity that man more than words can say.

I smack his chest to stop the laughs.

Shut up.

The chuckles subside.

Seriously, he’s a good guy who’s probably madly in love with you. He’ll be here.


You think so? I mean about the whole…love thing?

When he doesn’t answer right away, I glance at him. He has the most heartfelt, radiant smile on his face as he gazes down at me.

Oh, Jo,

he says,

how could he not be?

I smile back.

Thanks.

Before he can make me cry, Shannon steps out, harried as usual.

Justin, they’re just about ready for you,

she says before retreating back in.

Justin sighs.

Oh, goody. Speech time. Why is it I can walk into a warehouse full of men with guns without hesitation, but getting up in front of those people scares the crap out of me?


Are you kidding? Those people would wipe the floor with the warehouse goons with just a look. They’re vicious.

I adjust his bowtie until it’s straight.

There. Now get in there, superhero, before I lose all respect for you.

He kisses my cheek. I still get a thrill when he does that.

Thanks, Jo.

I smack his arm.

What are best friends for?

He grins again, squeezing my good arm before walking away. With a sigh, I turn back to my original position, watching and waiting for Harry. Maybe this is my punishment for postponing our vacation by a week. Or for not staying at his apartment. He said he was okay with both, and we are leaving tomorrow, and I did spend most nights at his place while Justin was out playing superhero, but still. He—No, I’m not doing this. He’ll be here. He promised, so he’ll be here. He will.

Once again he restores my faith in humanity. My face lights up when I see him running down the hall.

I’m sorry!

he calls to me, almost out of breath.

Sorry. We had a quadruple homicide this afternoon.


It’s okay,

I say as I try to tame his disheveled hair.

You’re here now.

There’s applause inside the ballroom. I give him a quick kiss, take his hand, and drag him in.

Come on.

Justin is onstage behind the podium when we sneak in, hanging back by the door. Justin smiles nervously at the crowd, scanning it. He spots me and the nervousness drops, the smile becoming genuine.

I want to thank you all for being here tonight,

he begins with confidence,

to support the Dr. Rebecca Thornton Pediatric Recovery Wing.

The audience applauds.

Thank you. Rebecca often spoke of the healing power of family and love. ‘I do the easy part,’ she said, ‘I just put back together their bodies. The parents do all the heavy lifting, repairing their souls. Encouraging their children to fight for life, even when they think they can’t do it anymore.’

He meets my eyes and nods. I swell with pride.

This wing, her dream, will aid in that fight. Those children here for long term care, whose parents don’t have the means or ability to pay for months in a hotel room, will be able to remain by their child’s side for as long as possible to get them well, to be their champion, their strength. So please, dig deep into your pockets and help me heal a few souls. Be a child’s hero tonight. Thank you.

The audience applauds as Justin walks off the stage, pausing only to glance at the picture of Rebecca behind him.

Harry squeezes my hand.

I’m going to get a drink. You want anything?


A diet soda would be great.

He pecks my lips.

You got it.

He’s about to step away, but I pull him back and plant a wet one on him. He’s surprised at first, but kisses me back.

What was that for?

he asks with a laugh.


Showing up.


Can’t wait to see what my prize is for getting the drinks,

he says before walking off.


Hurry back and find out,

I call. Sparkle Cohen, who’s been watching the whole exchange, inquisitively stares at me. I raise an eyebrow and shrug. She jots that down with a smile.

As I’m imagining what her blurb will be saying tomorrow, Harry is stopped by the mayor, who smiles and shakes his hand with enthusiasm. A photographer snaps a shot. I roll my eyes. Two weeks ago the mayor was threatening to fire him, now they’re best friends. He’s even pushing for Harry to become a Major at one of the precincts. I might be dating the future commissioner.


I didn’t know you had a thing for older men,

Grace Pickering says as she saddles up to me. I was too busy watching my boyfriend, I didn’t notice her approach. We smile at each other.

I thought you liked them tall, blonde, and with cleft chins.


I do,

I say, glancing at Justin who is holding court.

They just don’t like me.


So, is the puppy love over?

I shrug.

To tell the truth, I think a small part of me will always be a little in love with him. It’s just a part of who I am.

I sigh.

I’ve just decided to try requited love for once.


It’s so much better for the skin,

Grace says. We chuckle again.

Well, happiness suits you.


Thank you. You look exquisite tonight as well.

She does. She’s gained a few pounds and has this glow. She must be getting some.


You must feel a lot better knowing all the drama’s over.


You too. Must be a weight off knowing he’s not coming back.


I suppose,

she says, sipping her champagne. She gazes at the crowd while people keep glancing at us and whispering to each other. Grace and I exchange a look.

I feel like some fresh air. Keep me company?

Harry is still being fussed over by the mayor, and Justin is drumming up donations.

Love to.

I follow Grace into the hall.

Mind if we stop by the bathroom first?

she asks.

I shrug.

Sure.


I hate these people,

she says as we walk.

I always have. They’re so stuffy and selfish. They have the depth of a puddle. I will not miss them.

We walk into the bathroom as two women walk out.

You’re leaving?

I ask.

She goes into the stall.

Tonight. I’m sick of this town. There’s nothing for us here now.


Where are you going?

I ask, applying more lipstick.


Brazil,

she says inside the stall.

Rio, more specifically.

My back straightens and a feeling of dread runs down my spine. Oh, shit. No way. No way in hell. Just in case, I start reaching for the gun strapped to my thigh.

Why there?

Before I can get it, the stall door flies open. Grace holds a small gun with silencer right at me.

You know. No extradition treaty.

She gestures up.

Hands behind your head, please.

Shit. I do as she says, lacing my fingers behind my head.

Jane Smith, I presume.

She smiles.

I hear you’ve been looking for me.

I stare at her, eyes bulging out of my head.

What the fuck, Grace? The man kidnapped and raped you. He killed your fiancée.

She laughs, shaking her head.

You know, I’m not surprised you never knew about Justin. You are really a moron, Joanna.


Enlighten me.

She considers it, walking over to the bathroom door and locking it before resuming her position right in front of me.

I fell in love with James the moment I saw him and him me. Chad was…dull. He was like every other man I had ever dated. No fight, no vim or vigor. No imagination. James had fire in his eyes. Ambition. A devil-may-care attitude that drove me wild. After that first night, we met up wherever we could. The gym, the opera, it was thrilling. The sex was…

She shakes in ecstasy at the memory.

Intense. Passionate. Then one night we misjudged time, and Chad almost caught us. I made up the mugging story.


Why didn’t you just dump Chad?


I needed his money. Pickering was in the red. Daddy overextended before he died, and left me with a dead company. I knew Chad always had a thing for me, and I wanted to keep my legacy afloat. He was a billionaire, and I was fond of him. Marriages have been built on less. Then James came into my life and showed me what was really important. But I couldn’t let my company go under. I couldn’t let Daddy be right about me. James didn’t have enough to cover it all, so we came up with a plan. Chad and I changed our wills to make each other the beneficiary, and James was supposed to kill him at the AIDS gala. Justin ruined that. So we came up with a new plan.


You staged your own kidnapping to cover up the murder?


Exactly. Then it all went to shit once again because of Justin. For years he’d been looking for Alkaline’s identity and he chose
then
to put it all together. James went mad. I couldn’t be released after the ransom drop and then go on to be comforted and courted by James Ryder if he was the man who kidnapped me. So we plotted, and planned, trying to find a way out of it without getting suspicion thrown on me.


You were never a prisoner.


Nope. I went out when I wanted, in disguise of course. In spite of all that was happening, it was the happiest time of my life. We made love all day, we cooked each other meals, played chess. It was bliss.

She scowls.

But he just wouldn’t listen. I begged him to just leave it all. Chad, the money, Justice didn’t matter anymore, only we did. James couldn’t let Justice win. He was obsessed. The confrontation at the library was the final straw. He came home so enraged even
I
was afraid of him.

She scoffs.

The one time I went out without a disguise, I was spotted. I told them the story James said for me to tell if either of us was ever caught. See? He went to jail to protect
me
.


And so you helped him murder people?


We have both been living in
hell
these past few years because of Justice. He deserves everything he got.


You bankrolled this whole thing. You hired the P.I. to stalk us. You lured me and Cam to the prison that night. You gave him the invitation to get into the engagement party. You used your Cayman account to frame Stu Moore.

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