Cheating Justice (The Justice Team) Page 6

  Mitch took a quiet breath, turned the doorknob, and led Caroline into the east wing of Grey’s deserted army base.

  Seeing her blindfolded, holding her hand and guiding her, slayed him. Knowing what a control freak she was, this exercise had to be taking a piece out of her. Caroline wanted justice just like he did. It was eating her alive inside. She would never let herself be so vulnerable otherwise.

  Especially to him.

  He led her down a dark hallway, up a flight of stairs. The only light came from a few incandescents here and there along the concrete walls and the windows at each end. They passed what had once been sleeping quarters for the bigwigs and climbed another set of stairs. The first step was always the most challenging and she gripped Mitch’s hand tighter until she found her balance, but once she did, her natural athleticism kicked in and she practically ran up the stairs.

  Bad idea, his gut warned. Bringing her here. Exposing himself and the few facts he had to figure out this case and Kemp’s murder. Worse, he was exposing himself to how he felt about her, and how desperately he needed her help.

  Even if she was blindfolded, Caroline was smart. It wouldn’t take long for her to figure out she was back at the base. If he could keep her focused on the case…if he could keep focused on the case and not her…it might all work out.

  Jesus. He was doing it again. Just like last time. Justifying and lying to himself, and compromising her in the process.

  Too late now. She was here, and he needed fresh eyes on Tommy’s murder board. And now Kemp’s. He’d divided the board in half, one for each of his friends.

  Hell of a life you’ve got here, Mitch.

  He guided her to the last room on the left. “We’re here.”

  Caroline sighed with what sounded like relief. Pleasant relief. How many times had he heard that sigh? Heaven to his ears.

  He’d installed a new lock on the room’s door. Paranoia ran deep in his veins. He constantly ran just-in-case scenarios through his mind, and then went to work in reality making sure they never happened.

  Yes, someone could still break in or pick the lock, but the average high school gang of kids looking for a party spot, or a vagrant looking for a place to squat, wouldn’t go to the trouble.

  He unlocked the door and helped Caroline across the threshold.

  The room had been a classroom and came with a white board, a long table, and a bunch of metal chairs no one had bothered to take when the base closed. Not exactly homey, but workable as long as no one—including Grey—knew he’d set up camp here. He knew Teeg saw him coming and going on occasion, but the kid had never mentioned it. Teeg probably thought Mitch was doing something for Grey and one of Grey’s rules was everyone kept their mouths shut about everything.

  Moving behind Caroline, Mitch untied his shirt from her head. A piece of her hair caught in his fingers and he gently untangled it, enjoying the feel of the thick softness as it filtered through his fingers.

  That hair. He liked it down. Remembered how it had tickled his face, his chest, his stomach. Lower…

  Lust flared to life below his belt and he took a step back. A big step.

  Which sent him into one of the metal chairs. The thing banged into the wall, causing the room to echo with the sharp noise.

  Caroline didn’t seem to notice. She smoothed hair away from her face, staring straight ahead at the whiteboard. Tommy’s picture hung on the left. Kemp’s on the right. Below each photo, Mitch had logged the date, time, and location of each of their deaths. A pitiful handful of other details.

  Not enough.

  He’d even slapped up some of his wild ass theories, trying anything to find a connection between them.

  Drawn like a magnet to the board, Caroline walked by the table stacked with Mitch’s files and newspaper clippings and went to stand right in front of it. “You’ve been busy.”

  He shrugged off his jacket and tossed it on a nearby recliner he’d found at the Goodwill store. How many nights had he fallen asleep in that thing staring at the board? “Busy twiddling my thumbs. As you can see, I’ve got jack squat for leads. Brice was my best hope to at least find out what Tommy was working on and why the government’s trying to cover up his death by labeling him a traitor.”

  Caroline picked up a blue marker and started bulleting points under Brice’s name. “Okay, let’s make a list of everyone Tommy knew, ATF or FBI. Starting with me and Donaldson.”

  She turned to say something and stopped, her eyes zeroing in on his naked chest.

  T-shirt. He should probably throw it back on.

  Her mouth was still open. Her hand fell to her side.

  He grinned. “Nothing you haven’t seen before, Caroline.” And touched, and put those luscious lips on…his gaze dropped to her mouth and those full lips that no doctor could recreate. Yeah, those lips just about did him in.

  She closed her mouth, firmed her lips. All business.

  Fine. He tugged on the shirt. “You were saying?”

  She whirled back around, stared at the board. “Brice said most agents, and even some higher ups, were in the dark about this operation, but who had to be in on it?”

  He plopped into a metal chair at the table. Her ass was directly in his sight line. Just like the old days. He laughed to himself.

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “What?”

  “Nothing,” he said, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. They might have been in a deserted army base, but everything else reminded him of the past. The normal past where he stared at Caroline’s ass and never got caught.

  Normal…he’d never wanted normal. That’s why he’d joined the Bureau after college. He wanted action, adventure…to bring justice to the bad guys and have fun on the side with a woman here and there.

  And here he was feeling normal when his life was anything but.

  “Donaldson,” he said, shuffling through his notes. “And Director Lockhart. Since ATF is involved, I’ll take a wild guess and say the head of ATF in New Mexico, and the ATF supervisor in New Mexico are part of this. Whatever the op was, Justice would have had to sign off on it.”

  Carolyn scribbled each person’s title under their agency headings. “If Justice is involved, the U.S. Attorney in New Mexico would be as well, right?”

  She drew an arrow off to the side, wrote U.S. Attorney NM and added a question mark.

  Mitch stared at the list of names on the board. “That’s a lot of higher ups.”

  Caroline crossed her arms, inventorying the list too. “A lot of toes we’ll step on once we start digging.”

  “You can back out any time.”

  She sighed, this time with annoyance. Pulling up a chair next to him, she dropped into it. “We have to be smart about this. Pick which toes to step on. These people won’t talk to me. I’d have a better chance of meeting with God. And you certainly can’t talk to any of them.”

  “That’s why I started with Brice.”

  She tapped the marker on the table. A Caroline habit he knew well. “The field agents on the taskforce. They’ll talk to me.”

  “If we can find any of them.” Mitch contemplated the board. “I’d like to see Tommy’s autopsy report, the forensics and ballistics reports. All of it.”

  “Why?”

  “No stone unturned and all that. You never know what we might find. I want to know who killed him, and what type of gun they used. No one was arrested, but did the locals or the taskforce have any persons of interest? Anyone they interviewed afterwards? There should have been a complete investigation and they have to have some idea about who killed him.”

  She drilled him with a look. “How do you propose we get those reports?”

  “I have ways.”

  She faced him. “Can Teeg get them?”

  “I’d rather not involve him or Grey with this until we have to. If we have to. You want to talk to the agents on the ground in New Mexico. Sounds like a field trip is in order.”

  She faced him. “You think
I’m going to New Mexico with you?”

  “You said—”

  “I know what I said, but I can’t just take off and fly to New Mexico. Not with you.”

  She was so self-righteous. And kinda cute. “I can’t fly either, Caroline. Fugitive that I am. We’d have to drive.”

  Her eyes widened. “No.”

  “You could take a vacation day tomorrow and we’d have the whole weekend to get there and back.”

  “No.”

  He stared at her, saying nothing. A road trip sounded like fun to him. Especially with her. “I’ll let you drive. I know how you like to be in control.”

  “You really do want me to shoot you, don’t you?” She smacked his shoulder hard enough to make him laugh. “You make me crazy.”

  “I know.”

  She hit him again.

  He raised a hand in mock surrender. “Forget it! I’ll head out there myself. You stay here, be a good girl, and go back to your dumpster.”

  “Oh, screw off.”

  He started to rise. “I’ll take you back now.”

  She grabbed his arm. “Sit your butt down. You’re not going anywhere without me. Especially not New Mexico.”

  Gotcha. He resumed his seat. “It’s okay, Caroline. I can handle the trip on my own. I’m a big boy.”

  “Oh, I’m well aware of that,” she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Her chest rose and fell as if she’d been running. Was she pissed? Didn’t sound like it. “Did you just affirm I’m a big boy?”

  She met his gaze, her eyes flashing with emotion. Not anger. Lust. “Of course, the king of sexual innuendo would take it the wrong way.”

  Was he? Maybe. But Caroline was tricky that way. She may have been rolling her eyes and baiting him, but working cases always turned her on. In one way or another. He understood the rush. The challenge. The danger.

  “I know that look,” he said, putting his face smack in front of hers.

  “The one that says don’t come any closer?”

  “Yes, but the one you’re wearing isn’t that look.”

  Hunger. That’s what he saw when he looked in her pretty brown eyes. The same hunger lighting up his nerve endings.

  “Mitch…”

  The way she said his name was different this time, no snark, and it shot heat right to his groin. Goddammit. He shouldn’t do this. Shouldn’t let her do this.

  But he remembered that soft, sexy tone from their one night together, and more memories tumbled into place. The dig of her fingers into his skin. The way she moaned into his mouth. “Whatever it takes, I’m going to make it up to you,” he said. “It kills me that I hurt you.”

  Her breath hitched. There were dozens of reasons for her to leave. None for her to stay. “You did. But I knew exactly what I was doing, and I did it anyway. So whose fault is it?”

  “It’s mine.”

  She swallowed hard. “You were scared.”

  “Nah. You were scared. I was full of myself.”

  She scoffed. “You’re still full of yourself.”

  “True.”

  “If we’re going to make this work, you have to be honest with me…and yourself.”

  He hesitated for a second. “That’s what terrifies me.”

  “You don’t like to let people in. You don’t want them to see the real you, so you pretend to be confident and snarky and you keep everyone at a distance. Hell, we worked together for three years and I…I slept with you…and I still don’t know the real you. I bet even Grey doesn’t know the real Mitch Monroe.”

  She had him there. And shit, didn’t that sting. “Tommy and Kemp knew me. The real me. He’s not a great guy, but they didn’t care.”

  She put an arm across his shoulders and leaned in. “Who says he’s not a great guy? Maybe he’s a little screwy and has some baggage, but everyone has baggage. Lucky for you, I’ve seen the ugly side of Mitch Monroe. You don’t have to hide him from me.”

  Yeah, he did. “Think we can start over? You and me?”

  Her gaze didn’t waver. “There’s a lot at stake with this, professionally and personally, and as stupid as I was the first time, I’m not making that mistake again.”

  “You don’t trust me.”

  “Not yet, I don’t. So let’s take it slow.”

  Slow. Right. He forced his eyes away from her lips. Not an easy task when they were right there, ready for the taking. “Okay.” He controlled his breathing, ignored the way his muscles twitched under the feel of her hand on his back. “First, I need to admit I actually can’t go to New Mexico without you. I need you to interview those agents, whoever they are, if we can find any who will talk.”

  She smiled. Confident. “I know.”

  “Second…I really want to kiss you.”

  “Damn you.” She grabbed his shirt, fisted it, and bam. Her lips crushed his.

  The same lust he’d felt at the touch of her hair…all the old memories…flooded back in an instant. Caroline in his arms, her mouth on his, her legs wrapped around his hips.

  That taste…the taste of her had haunted him.

  She parted her lips and their tongues met. She moaned and the raw sound set his blood on fire. Making Caroline lose control had once been his biggest goal in life. Now…

  Whatever it takes. Hadn’t he just promised her he wouldn’t hurt her again?

  He pulled back, hating himself, but knowing it was the right thing to do. “You don’t want this.”

  She blinked, her eyes half-lidded with lust. “Don’t want…?”

  “Me.” He pushed away from the table, paced to the opposite side of the room, his pants too tight from his swollen cock. Have to stay away from her. “I’m a fugitive. I’m wanted for murder. You can’t afford to get involved with me again, Caroline. We can’t take it slow. We can’t take this anywhere except friendship.”

  Her body stiffened. She licked her lips—God, what was wrong with him?—and smoothed her jacket. “You’re right. That would be…”

  “Stupid,” he finished for her. “Unprofessional.”

  “Ha. Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve been stupid or unprofessional. Maybe this time it’ll be different and we’ll find a killer.” She stood and shoved in her chair. “I’ll check in with Brice tomorrow and see if he has any names for us of agents that might be willing to talk.”

  “Good idea.” They were back on track. Back on the hunt. “I don’t want to involve Grey if I don’t have to, but it may come to that.”

  Caroline held out a hand, wiggled her fingers. “Ready?”

  His cock jumped. “For what?”

  “Aren’t you going to blindfold me again?”

  “Oh, right.” He shucked his shirt, saw the way her gaze skimmed his chest. God, just don’t let her lick…

  Too late. Her tongue shot out and licked her lips. “You realize,” she said, “with our history of joint stupidity, we’re going to wind up screwing each other blind at some point.”

  He could only hope. He eased behind her and drew his shirt across her eyes. “Let’s go to New Mexico, Caroline.”

  Chapter Seven

  Caroline followed Mitch down the steps of the private plane her father had loaned them, tipped her head up to the bright blue sky and breathed in the warmth of a 92 degree October day in New Mexico. According to the weatherman, that temperature was still climbing due to a freak warm front plowing through the Southwest. She slid her blazer off, but left the sleeves of her blouse in place. She wouldn’t have minded rolling them up, but no; keeping some sense of her professional armor would keep her focused on the case and not on…

  What the hell am I doing in Roswell with Mitch Monroe?

  Well, if she disappeared, everyone would say she’d been abducted by aliens. With these two, that might not have been far off. Brice, sensing a major corruption story about to break, had decided he wasn’t happy sitting in the shadows of his blog. Not only had he come up with a source for them, he came on
the trip, saying the guy wouldn’t talk to them without Brice being there.

  “Leave it to me,” Mitch said, “to hook up with a girl who has connections.”

  Connections. Right. Considering her father ran a company that provided the U.S. government with technical advice on space missions, yes, they were darned lucky. Darned lucky the company owned a private jet, darned lucky her father trusted her enough not to ask questions, and darned lucky she knew how to lie. Because make no mistake, she’d given her father a line of baloney when she told him a friend from New Mexico needed to see a specialist in D.C. but due to her medical condition, couldn’t fly above 32,000 feet. Only a private jet could guarantee that and Caroline wanted to help this friend.

  Now she was lying to her parents like a fourteen-year-old wanting to sneak off with her boyfriend. And Mitch was the boyfriend.

  Someone must have whacked me on the head.

  Behind her, Brice whistled. “I tell ya, that was a helluva flight. First time flying private and it didn’t disappoint.”

  Mitch reached the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, Brice, too bad you were with us.”

  Oh, no. Pig that he was, she was sure there was some comment coming about joining the Mile-High Club. “Don’t even go there, Mitch.”

  He unleashed one of his famous or maybe not-so-famous-but-famous-to-her grins and she rolled her eyes.

  Throwing his arm over her shoulder, he gave her a squeeze. “Where to, boss?”

  “Rental car. That’s the only thing I couldn’t manage, so I’ll have to rent. No big deal. Donaldson probably thinks I called in sick so I could punish him for putting me on dumpster duty.”

  “Yeah, he thinks that highly of himself. Where’s the car rental?”

  “About two miles from here.” She smiled. “At least one of us thinks ahead. The rental place said they’ll send a shuttle. We just have to call.”

  He pointed to the small office plopped smack in the middle of four airplane hangars. “We going through there?”

  “Not if I can help it. The fewer people who see us, the better.”

  “There’s a gate,” Brice said. “Next to the hangar.”