One Wicked Night Page 3

  Justice escorted her to the door of the car and waved the driver away when he moved to open the door for Myka.

  The man got back in the car and started it.

  "Have fun tonight.” Justice pulled open the door and waited for her to get in.

  Myka climbed in without saying a word. She couldn't think straight, his drugging nearness zapped her speech.

  "Know this.” Leaning down, he met her gaze. “I'm not going anywhere.” He stood and slammed the door shut. At his loud tap on the bumper the car sped off. Myka laid her head on the back of the seat and closed her eyes. She took a calming breath, then opened her eyes and checked the time on her cell phone.

  The mystery of Justice Alexandre would have to wait. It was time to deal with the senator.

  * * * *

  Justice watched as the taillights of the car carrying Myka to her father disappeared. He vowed it would be the only time she'd be out of his sight until he figured out who wanted her dead and why. The sight of her after all this time hit him like a punch to the gut. He ran his tongue over his lips and savored the taste of Myka. There was no way he could be that close to her and deny himself that taste. Her reactions to him were as raw as his to her, but he had to put all that aside for now and concentrate on her safety.

  After his last few contracts, he'd begun questioning his choice in jobs. The people he killed all deserved to die, one way or another. Murderers, drug dealers, rapists and child molesters. Yet, somehow, each job he took seemed to weigh heavier on his soul. How had he ended up here, with the woman from Toronto as his target? He planned to tell her why he was here as soon as possible. This wasn't something to play around with. It was possible she knew who wanted to harm her. Her father was in a position of power and had no doubt made enemies. Maybe they wanted to hurt him by hurting his daughter. Although from what Justice witnessed tonight, there wasn't any love lost between Myka and the senator. The information Maysin dug up said it was only Myka and her father since her mother died in childbirth, but from the phone call he'd overheard, it didn't sound like they had a good relationship.

  He walked around the corner to where he parked the rental car and hopped in. Flipping down the driver's side visor, he pulled out the confirmation slip for the fund-raiser. In order to get in, one had to donate to Senator Prentiss's campaign. The minimum donation acceptable was twenty thousand dollars. Justice had donated fifty.

  Starting the car, he pulled out of the parking lot. Time to break out the monkey suit.

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  Chapter Four

  * * * *

  Justice stepped into the ballroom of the Brooklyn Marriott with a grimace. He instantly hated the crowd, the bright lights and the freaking tux the dress code insisted he wear. The room was decorated in gold and red with a sea of round tables. Per the booklet he'd been handed at the door, six people were seated at each table. He'd been placed at a table with two councilmen and their wives, along with an aide to the senator.

  After making a quick stop, he smoothed a palm down the front of his jacket, checking to make sure the bulge of his SIG wasn't visible. He'd anticipated being searched at the door and having to walk through the metal detector, so he stashed his guns in the men's room last night. The SIG he kept in his waistband, the Beretta Neo remained tucked snugly inside an ankle holster. He was nothing if not prepared.

  "This way, sir.” The young usher motioned for Justice to follow him, but he ignored the kid and skirted the perimeter of the room instead. The usher's hurried footsteps behind him were drowned out by the loud buzz of conversation in the room. People kept glancing over their shoulders, looking around. They waited for something, but what?

  Justice searched the room for Myka. He couldn't see her or the senator anywhere.

  "Sir, here's your table.” The usher grabbed Justice's elbow.

  Justice shrugged him off. “What's everyone whispering about?” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  "Uh...” The kid looked toward the stage where a microphone stood ready. “You're very late, sir—the senator has a major announcement to make, then everything's over."

  "There's nothing about an announcement in the program.” Justice narrowed his eyes.

  "Sir, I really must insist you take a seat. And could you remove your sunglasses?"

  "You were saying about the announcement?” He snagged a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and took a sip. Ah, Moet.

  "The senator mentioned it at the beginning of the evening. Sir—” Applause cut off the annoying whiny voice. When the kid turned to the crowd, Justice headed to the far side of the room to be closer to the platform.

  A blur of red captured his attention. Myka. She emerged from a side door, flanked by two men. The first was a Caucasian with salt and pepper hair and a fake smile. Senator Prentiss himself. The other man—African-American—he didn't recognize, but Justice didn't like the way he held Myka's hand. Her face was blank and she seemed to shrink into herself next to the men. Her father climbed on to the platform.

  Justice stopped in his tracks and backed up to the wall. He pulled out his cell phone and used the camera to zoom in on Myka and her companion.

  "Folks, I want to thank you all for coming and being so generous with your donations.” Roger Prentiss held a hand over his heart. “I'm humbled and overwhelmed by your faith and trust in my leadership. I only hope I can do it justice when I get re-elected.” Applause and cheers rang out.

  Justice snapped the picture of Myka and the stranger, then sent it to Maysin with a brief message—Who is he?

  Up on stage, Roger milked his fifteen minutes for all it was worth. “We've raised a lot of money tonight, but it isn't over yet. We have a ways to go still.” He turned and motioned to Myka and the man with her. Myka hesitated, but stepped up on stage with a hand from Mr. No Name. “In the meantime, folks, I'm pleased to announce a brand new addition to my family."

  Justice froze.

  "My lovely daughter, Myka, has made me very happy by agreeing to marry the esteemed gentleman to my left. Mr. Kevin Lawrence."

  Son of a bitch. Myka was engaged. But when? Before or after Toronto?

  The crowd jumped to their feet as Roger pulled his future son-in-law into an embrace punctuated by thunderous applause. Myka stared out into the crowd with a plastic smile on her face and terror in her eyes. She looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there.

  Justice stepped forward into her line of vision, raising his glass in a toast. Anger burned a hole in his gut. She'd given herself to him when she wasn't free. Why had she been in Toronto having sex with him when she had Lawrence here waiting? Some things he did, some he didn't. Fucking another man's woman wasn't something he did. Too messy.

  Her wide eyes shimmered, her intent to run clearly etched onto her features. Any other time he'd enjoy the chase, but she wasn't his prize to catch. Myka turned and walked off the stage with her head down, ignoring calls from her father and fiance. She ducked back into the room she came through earlier. The senator whispered something into Lawrence's ear and the men followed after her.

  Justice shadowed them, forcing his way through the throng of people chanting, “Prentiss, Prentiss.” He opened the door and stepped inside what looked like a waiting area—couch, table and a small television. For someone with such an overinflated view of himself, Roger Prentiss's security was for shit. Myka's purse sat on the couch beside a black jacket and briefcase. Justice focused on the briefcase, took a step toward it, but raised voices stopped him in his tracks.

  "You'll do whatever I say, Myka. You're my daughter and you owe me.” The senator's voice shook under the force of his words.

  "I don't love Kevin, Father. I can't.” Her voice was too soft, too subdued.

  Justice didn't like it.

  The fiance spoke. “We don't have to love each other, Myka. This is a business deal. In return for being your father's principal backer, I get you as my wife."

  Fucker. Justice removed his
black leather gloves from his jacket pocket and pulled them on. That bastard was dying tonight. He crept forward in the direction of the voices.

  "You have no right. This is my life you're messing with. You can't just sell me to the highest bidder.” Anger rang loud and clear in Myka's voice. “Don't do this, please."

  Justice hated to hear her begging like that. He sidled up to the adjoining door left ajar and peered inside. The room was a much bigger suite. The senator sat in an armchair facing away from the door. Myka paced the room, but the fiance wasn't visible.

  "Accept it, Myka,” Lawrence said.

  His voice came from right next to the door. Gotcha.

  "The only way I'm giving your father my money is if I get you, so do the right thing here. Your father needs you to step up for once."

  "All right, that's it.” Roger got to his feet. “This isn't a discussion, nor is the matter up for debate.” He pointed to Myka. “You'll do what I say, or you won't like the consequences."

  Justice kicked the door the rest of the way open. It swung back with enough force to slam into the man behind it. He stepped in, guns drawn.

  "Oww. What the—” Lawrence froze in place with a hand over his mouth, blood dripping between his fingers.

  "Justice.” Myka stared at him, wide eyed. “What are you doing?"

  "Who is this man?” The senator jumped to his feet, face red.

  "Here's what going to happen,” Justice spoke in his calmest tone, a calm he didn't feel. “Myka is leaving with me. If you make a scene, or call the cops, I will not hesitate to kill you both.” He looked from Lawrence to the senator and back. “That's a promise I will happily keep. Myka, step outside.” He motioned with his head.

  "What-what are you going to do?” She hurried to his side. Her bleak eyes were wet.

  "I got this, Myka.” He forced a smile. “Step outside now.” She did without looking back. Justice waited until the door clicked behind her before he addressed Lawrence. “Myka will not marry you unless she wants to. Doesn't look like she wants to. Try to impose yourself on her in any way and they'll never find your body."

  The idiot gaped at him. “Do you know who I am?” Dots of red decorated his white shirt.

  Justice laughed. “Unlike that greedy bastard over there, I couldn't give a flying fuck who you are. You don't scare me, but you terrify Myka and for that alone you're marked for death."

  He turned to Roger. “As for you. Senator or no, you're a miserable person. If you come within a block of Myka, I will blow you the fuck away.” Justice backed toward the door. “I can keep a secret if you can.” Lowering one hand, he grasped the knob and pulled the door open.

  Myka stood on the other side with her ear to the door. He shoved his guns in his waistband and grabbed her arm. “Let's go.” He dragged her behind him as they speed-walked out of the waiting room and into the emptying ballroom. “Head down,” he instructed tersely.

  They cut a trail to the main exit in a few long strides. A few people yelled out congratulations to Myka, but she ignored them. Finally, they stepped outside into the cool Brooklyn air.

  "Come on.” He ran across busy Adams Street to his rental parked on the corner. Myka's heels clicked on the asphalt as she fought to keep up. Justice used the remote lock to unlock the door and opened the passenger side for her.

  She climbed in and looked up at him with questions in her eyes.

  "Not now.” He slammed the door closed and rushed to the driver side. Justice didn't relax until he pulled off and merged into traffic. Beside him, Myka twitched. He ignored her and cursed himself. He'd rescued the woman he was supposed to kill and seriously pissed off the senator and Lawrence. They'd be gunning for him, and without intending to, he'd put Myka in the line of fire.

  Halfway to his destination, she spoke. “Where are we going?"

  Justice glanced at her from the corner of his eye. When she left the store earlier, her hair was down, now it'd been pinned up, exposing her smooth brown neck. Images of him biting her there flashed in his mind, hardening him.

  "We're going someplace where we can talk.” He got off Flatbush Avenue and entered the side streets. Good thing he knew Brooklyn, or else he'd be lost by now.

  She kept quiet until he turned onto Pennsylvania Avenue. “Starrette City?” Myka asked. “We're going to Starrette City?"

  "Is there a problem with Starrette City?” Justice kept his gaze on the road. He'd bought an apartment in the high-rise co-op because of the access to the Belt Parkway with its easy routes in and out of Brooklyn. The surrounding area—East New York—was rife with crime and poverty, but he'd never had a problem.

  "No, I just—I'm surprised. That's all.” She looked out the window, then turned back to him. “You know Brooklyn."

  "I grew up here.” He pulled in to the underground parking garage for his building and parked in his—or rather one of his aliases—spot. “This is our stop.” Getting out, he waited for her to do the same before he headed for the elevator.

  They rode the elevator to his floor side by side in silence. Myka stared straight ahead, but her eyes darted back and forth. She must have been chomping at the bit to bombard him with questions. Justice smiled. She was slowly emerging from the person begging her father not to hurt her into the woman from Toronto. He kind of liked the woman from Toronto, and wouldn't mind seeing her again.

  The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the penthouse suite.

  "You live here?” Myka turned to him, curiosity in her gaze.

  "Yep.” He motioned for her to get out. “The entire floor is mine.” Justice walked the few steps to his door and punched some buttons on the keypad mounted to the wall. First a beep sounded, then a click as the locking mechanism disengaged. He pushed the door open. “Come in."

  Myka walked into the foyer and stopped at the threshold to the living room. “What's this, your bat cave?"

  A black couch stood in the middle of the huge living room, facing a large flat screen TV mounted on the white wall. A black entertainment center stood off to the side, holding his gaming systems and hundreds of movies and music CDs. An unlit Cuban rested in a circular crystal ashtray on a small glass table. Another dark colored armchair was backed into the far corner of the room.

  Justice shrugged. “I like it.” He kicked off his shoes and plopped down in the armchair. “Take a seat on the couch.” Finally, he got to loosen the fucking tie that had been choking him all goddamn night. Pulling his guns from his waist, he placed one on his knee. The other he held on to.

  Myka sat on the couch, facing him. “I'm sorry you got involved in my family squabble.” She nibbled her bottom lip. “I have no idea why you even felt like you had to."

  "You'd rather I stayed out of it and let you be forced to marry Mr. Money Bags?” He watched her from behind lowered eyelids.

  "No! I meant I don't know you, we only had sex once.” She glanced away from him. “My father and I, we have issues to work out."

  You don't say. “So it's the whole enemy-you-know angle?"

  She pursed her lips, stared at him. “You're hiding behind those glasses, take them off."

  He obeyed her command with a smile. She could say she wasn't the same woman from Toronto all she wanted, but Justice knew better. He dropped the sunglasses on the gray carpet, met her gaze. “What are you hoping to find?"

  Her tongue flicked out to wet her lips. “You."

  "Be careful what you search for, Myka."

  She shivered visibly.

  "Some things are better left hidden."

  "Like why you're really here?” Her jaw tightened in a stubborn tic. “And why I'm here with you?"

  Justice rubbed his jaw. “Feel free to leave anytime. Just a word of warning though. Your father and Lawrence aren't who you should be afraid of."

  "What the hell does that mean? Who should I be afraid of, you?"

  He bared his teeth. “Well, I have been hired to kill you."

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; Chapter Five

  * * * *

  Silence. Justice looked at her, waited.

  Myka burst out laughing. “Wow, I did not take you for a funny guy."

  Not the response he expected. Justice gritted his teeth at her naivete. He brought up his hand holding the gun, pointed it at her. “I don't joke about my job."

  Her smile died a quick death. Wide eyes stared him down as her throat worked. “You—you were hired to kill me?” Her words rattled like tree branches during a windstorm.

  "Said so, didn't I?"

  "No!” She shook her head. Fingers dug into the couch cushions as she slid backward, away from him. “Why? Who? I-I don't understand."

  Justice sighed, removed the gun from his knee and placed it on the floor. “You don't have to understand it, Myka.” He got to his feet. Her eyes grew wider, fear and desperation flaring bright in their dark depths. Her body tensed. “The fact remains, I've been hired to do a job."

  With the gun in his hand pointing at her, he took a step in her direction.

  Myka jumped up, ran around the couch and out of the living room. Toward the front door maybe

  Justice halted, watching as her right heel got caught in the carpet. Her ankle twisted, and her legs buckled, but she managed to remain upright. She limped to the heavy door and pulled at the knob. Finding it locked, she banged on it with her fists.

  "Help! Somebody help me, please.” Her screams were useless and he told her so.

  "Nobody can hear you, Myka.” He took his time walking toward her. “The walls are soundproof."

  She spun around to face him, eyes shooting daggers. “Fuck you, you bastard."

  "Ooh, language.” He liked her like this, with fire in her eyes. He didn't, however, like the fear. Time to remedy that. “I'm not going to hurt you, Myka.” His words didn't seem to comfort her, as she turned around and went back to pounding on the door.

  "Help, somebody, he's going to kill me!"

  Justice reached her in two strides. “Tut-tut, didn't I just say I wasn't going to hurt you?” He pressed his front to her back, pinning her against the door. “I'm liking this,” he murmured in her ear. “Chasing you, catching you."