Tough Justice Box Set Page 13

  “They don’t have last names. I clearly have that,” she corrected, a little too harsh. His smile dropped. She had to remind herself that he was only trying to lighten the mood. She readjusted in her seat. “I guess for the first time in my life, I’m glad I never got that middle initial.”

  “Don’t celebrate yet. If someone’s already gone through the trouble to kill those with your name, I doubt they’ll let the lack of middle name stop them,” Xander pointed out.

  He was right.

  “If it’s really Moretti ordering these hits to toy with you, maybe he’ll target women with names from when you were undercover,” Ty offered. “What was your cover name?”

  Lara felt the hesitation behind her response. Saying the name had become an odd sensation. It represented a time in her life where everything had changed. Where she had been thrust into a world of black and white that had quickly turned gray. She moved the ice pack from her arm and set it on the tabletop.

  “Eve Johannsen.” For whatever reason, she averted her gaze from Nick as she answered.

  “So, what?” Xander cut in. “We’re supposed to warn all the Eves and all the Johannsens in New York City to be careful? To walk in pairs wherever they go?”

  Victoria shook her head. “Even if we did decide to go that route, I’m afraid it would only lead to making them unnecessary targets. Plus, not to be that person, but we don’t even know if Moretti is behind these murders. The only connection we’ve found so far has been the MM stamp and—” she looked at Lara “—I don’t need to remind you that his syndicate ran far and wide. It could be someone else entirely pulling the strings.”

  Lara didn’t want to, but she had to agree with that. However, if it was Moretti, she knew he’d only be interested in going after her real life.

  The real Lara Grant.

  “What’s the plan now?” Mei asked.

  Lara adjusted the ice pack on her shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to say. They’d hit that proverbial wall again. One that they desperately needed to climb.

  “Currently, there’s nothing we can do.” Victoria’s tone was calm, determined. “We’re waiting for the postmortem to be done on our victim, and the NYPD are doing their due diligence, running down Elizabeth’s friends and family. They’ve been told to let us know the second they come up with anything. So, for now—” she glanced at Lara’s shoulder before scanning the rest of the team “—take the night to rest.” Lara’s brows rose as she readied herself to protest. She needed to keep working. To keep moving. “An exhausted agent makes for a useless agent,” Victoria tacked on, an edge clear in her voice. She wasn’t giving them a suggestion. She was giving them a command.

  No one protested, and soon the group dispersed. Lara lagged behind, close to her desk. She pictured Elizabeth Grant again. Was it fair that she should be allowed to relax while Elizabeth’s life had been snuffed out that day?

  “Hey.” Nick came up beside her, keys twirling around his index finger. “I’m assuming you aren’t liking our latest assignment.”

  Lara didn’t smile. “Not particularly.” She grabbed her bag and slipped her jacket on. Her shoulder still bothered her but not as much as taking a temporary hiatus did.

  “I didn’t take you for someone who liked the term ‘rest.’” His lips quirked up in the corner. It made the attractive man even more so, but Lara wasn’t in the mood to banter.

  “She was in the middle of trying on swimsuits,” Lara said. “Overpowered and strangled in a dressing room while trying on a pink bikini.”

  Nick’s smirk turned down. His expression darkened.

  “We’ll get them,” he said, voice low. “Whoever they are, whoever is behind this, we’ll get the sons of bitches.” Lara wanted to point out that the fact that they weren’t even sure who they were dealing with was already a step backwards that they couldn’t afford, but Nick spoke again. “But Victoria is right. Sometimes we need to regroup—to step back—or we might miss something that’s right in front of us.”

  The way he said the last part caught Lara’s attention in a way that surprised her. Suddenly the space between them didn’t seem so expansive. She took a slight step backwards, dipping down to scoop up her keys.

  “That may be true, but that still doesn’t mean I know how to rest. I probably couldn’t if I tried right now.”

  “You mean after the chase today you aren’t the least bit tired?”

  Lara shook her head. “I’m weirdly still amped up.”

  Nick laughed.

  “I know what you mean. Why don’t we grab a beer, and we can try out this whole ‘resting’ thing together?”

  Lara raised her eyebrow. “If that’s a pickup line, I’ll have to tell you it’s a crappy one,” she said, smirking. However, the part of her that had stirred at the mention of “together” already had her answer.

  Nick held up his hands to show his innocence. “Even though we’re new partners, sharing a beer or two is par for the course,” he answered reasonably. “Plus, if you don’t come I’ll be forced to drink alone.”

  He turned, and she started to walk out with him.

  She was still having problems trusting him—anyone—but to be successful in closing this case, she needed their partnership to work.

  “Nick Delano isn’t a fan of the bar scene? Color me surprised,” she joked.

  “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Agent Grant,” he shot back.

  “Ditto,” she replied quietly.

  * * *

  Nick ordered two beers as soon as they sat down. The bar, nicknamed The Pit, was filled with what Lara was realizing must have been cops.

  “That explains why this place is busy, and it’s not even five yet,” she commented after making the observation to Nick.

  “What better way to rest than drink among your equally burdened brethren?” he said with an influx of sarcasm. “Not to mention, we get one hell of a discount.”

  Nick got their beers and slid one to her. They clinked the bottles together, and both took long drinks.

  “So, if you won’t tell me about your time as Eve Johannsen, then maybe you can tell me about Lara Grant?” He raised his eyebrow in perfect unison with his smirk. If Nick wanted her to open up, she’d definitely need the alcohol between her hands.

  “What do you want to know? My favorite color?” she said, trying to make this work. The very attractive man across from her was broaching a subject that she rarely talked about.

  Would she ever have a life—undercover or not—that didn’t make her cringe to openly discuss?

  “Wow, that’s a pretty personal question,” he said, feigning offense. “I wasn’t going to ask something that serious until after you’d had a few.” He shrugged. “But since you brought it up...”

  Lara followed by example and took a good drink off of the top. She didn’t always like the taste of beer, but right now it was welcomed.

  “I like black,” she answered. “It’s simple, classic, chic.”

  “Your favorite color is black,” he deadpanned.

  “What? Was I supposed to say pink?”

  The agent shook his head. “I never pegged you as a pink-loving kind of woman.”

  Lara raised her eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  Nick leaned against the bar top and smirked.

  “Because I think you’re a bit more difficult than that.”

  He raised his beer up, and she couldn’t help but clink to that.

  “My favorite color is red, if you were interested,” he continued. “But since you didn’t ask...”

  Lara laughed, surprising herself. She knew he deserved more from her than the quiet that she wanted to supply. He was her partner, after all. A man who believed in the bond that came with that title. Lara took another swig. So Lara did something she hadn’t been able to do while undercover.

  She opened up about herself.

  “Okay, you want to know about me? Shoot.” She held up her bottle. “But be warned, just because yo
u ask doesn’t mean I’ll answer.”

  Nick’s eyes widened in mock delight, and he thrummed his fingers against the bar and gave her an appraising look.

  “Okay, let’s jump right in. Where are you from? Local or transplant from somewhere humid as hell?”

  “Rockaway Beach,” she answered.

  “Ah, I’m all Brooklyn baby over here.”

  “That seems fitting.”

  He flashed her a grin.

  “If my mom had had it her way, we would have left for the coast instead,” he continued. “But Dad had his hands in the pies here.”

  “May I ask what pies we’re talking about?” Lara asked, interest piqued.

  “He’s an attorney,” he answered, no pride evident in his voice. “The kind interested in money and fame and all the trimmings you get from those two mixed. He’s the guy you see on the news blocking senators all the way down to drug lords, swearing up and down every one of his clients is one-hundred percent innocent.” Nick snorted, rolling his eyes. “I don’t get it, but to each their own.”

  Lara didn’t know how to respond right away. His admission was brief but seemed oddly personal. His face had hardened, his eyes had gone momentarily into slits. She didn’t think he’d meant to open up that much so soon. He took another drink. Lara decided it was only fair to give something of hers up in return.

  “As you know, my dad was a detective. Queens NYPD. Retired a few years back,” she said. “I’m still operating under the assumption that a majority of kids of cops become cops themselves. Or, some version of them.”

  Nick laughed.

  “I’d have to agree with you there. In the academy I met quite a few people with law enforcement in their family.”

  “It’s like a disease,” she said, giving him a sly smile. He held his beer out to clink to that.

  “So what does your cop father think of his FBI daughter?”

  Lara felt the small smile she’d had freeze in place. The mask she wore when concerning her family snapped on. What was suddenly a somewhat light conversation became heavy.

  “He told me he was proud once,” she hedged, taking a long pull of her drink. Nick didn’t respond. He was waiting on her. “We didn’t have the best relationship before I joined, so we didn’t really talk about work.” She shrugged. “What about you? Is your hotshot pops proud of your FBI status?”

  Nick’s entire expression seemed to change as he wrangled a grin into place. It was a truly remarkable one at that. Even though it was a half-cocked smile, it held all the trappings of open anger.

  “You’d have to ask him that,” was all he said.

  His words sent a chill across her skin. One that had nothing to do with her proximity to the handsome man next to her.

  Lara didn’t pry. She recognized a complicated past when she saw one. So, instead, she focused on peeling back the label on her bottle and pondered the man beside her.

  Nick Delano had a sharp sense of humor, but he was also tough and serious when needed. He was FBI and had, for whatever reason, found his way to their task force. Believing the man had anything but a complicated past would have been naive.

  “My dad was a tough man and even tougher father,” Nick said after the silence had stretched too long. His voice was low, with an edge to it that warned of a deep wound. Yet another thing Lara could relate to. “You stepped out of line, and he wouldn’t hesitate to put you right back on it. I never knew if that was just the man he was raised to be or if that’s what the job did to him.” He shrugged. “I guess it doesn’t really matter. He is what he is.”

  “I’m gathering it wasn’t the most fun to grow up with him.”

  “Some admired his ambition, especially when he started out, and in a way I guess you could have called it impressive. He dealt with high-profile cases—like I said, senators even—and he won them even when his client was as guilty as they came. But those people who revered him—sang his praises after seeing him work a courtroom—didn’t have to live with him. He ruthlessly pursed his public image of perfection, strived for absolute control, and ran his home with an iron rod.” Nick was starting to get heated. That much was obvious. He was traveling down a slippery slope that, Lara guessed, didn’t end well. Maybe he realized that. His eyes took in his bottle with new interest and he gave a half-shrug. “I’m not one to sit here and complain about my daddy issues, but suffice it to say, my father believed in his career more than he ever believed in his family. It’s a miracle any of us survived.”

  Nick finished his drink and ordered another. Lara quickly caught up and followed suit. They waited in silence for the bartender to replace the beer. Then Nick started up again. It made Lara grateful he seemed to trust her enough to open up. Could she do the same?

  “It wasn’t all bad. My mom was tough, too, but, you know, in a different way. A better way, I always thought.” A wisp of a smile trailed his lips, a nice break from the darkness. “She tried to make my brother and me as happy and healthy as she could. Tried to keep us close...” Even though he wasn’t looking directly at her, Lara saw his gaze deepen in a way that suggested he wasn’t still in the bar. “It didn’t work, but damn if that woman didn’t try. She still tries, even when battling cancer in a damn hospice.” His grip tightened on the bottle so quickly Lara thought the glass might break. She fought the urge to touch him—to give him comfort she so rarely obtained herself—yet her hand stayed still. Instead she tracked the trail of cold left behind as she took another drink of beer. Finally he loosened his grip, and with it the moment passed. He didn’t smile, but his eyes softened. “And that’s my origin story. Can you do one better?”

  Lara let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. Now he was joking. The dark mood had lifted. Lara didn’t want it to return. She smiled and hoped it looked convincing.

  “I don’t think that’s a game I want to win, Agent Delano.”

  “Hey, with our jobs we have to do all we can to find the humor in the everyday. Am I right?” His smile had come back but seemed to still be fractured somehow. A broken smile was better than no smile, right? “So, how dysfunctional is Lara Grant’s family?”

  For a moment everything slowed. Lara shifted in her seat. Indecision clouded her thoughts. Nick had opened up to her, without provocation. He had been right before. She was his partner, and with that title came a certain amount of trust. She could follow his lead, rip the Band-Aid off...

  But Lara Grant had trusted the wrong people before. So she gave him partial truths and hoped they’d be enough.

  “I was ten when my mother died. My father passed away from Alzheimer’s at the end of my lockdown. Beyond that...” She paused. “Well, let’s just say any family reunions would be severely lacking in attendance.” Nick held his bottle up to hers. Lara touched it. Another cheer between them. “But, hey, silver lining?” Lara sobered. The image of the man with dark eyes filled her mind. “At least that means Moretti can’t go after my family. They’re gone.”

  Nick didn’t have the hesitation that Lara had harbored before. He stretched his hand out and, touching her chin, tilted her gaze up from her bottle to his eyes. They were also dark. The contact surprised her, but she didn’t pull away.

  “We’ll stop him,” he said, voice charged. “He’ll pay for what he’s done, and then all that will be left is a name no one will remember.”

  Every part of Lara began to vibrate. The walls she’d built around her emotions began to shake. When she spoke, it was terrifyingly honest.

  “I’ll remember,” she whispered.

  Nick’s fierce expression sharpened. “Then we’ll have to make you forget.”

  And then his lips were on hers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  His kiss was hard. It pushed against Lara’s lips with a need so poignant that she was stunned into immobility for a moment. Or maybe she wasn’t as still as she’d thought. She felt her body reach out to him just as she returned the kiss. She wanted Nick Delano, and she wanted him badly.


  And that was a problem.

  Lara froze.

  Nick broke the kiss.

  She glanced around them to see if anyone had noticed the two FBI agents locking lips, but no one seemed to care. They were in their own little worlds with their own little worries, not caring about the two at the corner of the bar. The cold of the bottle still in Lara’s hand seeped into her skin and acted as a blaring reminder of who she was and what she couldn’t do. The proverbial bucket of cold water to the face, in miniature.

  “I—I have to go,” she stammered out, pulling out some money for the drinks. Heat crawled across her body. Her heartbeat raced, and it was all she could do to control her breathing. Nick also seemed to be going through a myriad of feelings. The kiss, she believed, had probably happened on impulse. Either way, Lara hopped off the stool, reached for her keys on the counter and averted her eyes.

  “Lara, I’m sorry,” Nick tried, voice lower than normal. “Stay.”

  “I have to go,” she said, more resolutely.

  She was out of The Pit in a flash, the door swinging closed behind her. Nick didn’t follow. It gave her the break she needed. She took a few steps away from the entrance and put her back against the wall. No one seemed to pay her any mind as she closed her eyes.

  I can’t do this, she thought. I can’t do this again.

  Whatever was between Nick and her, whatever attraction threaded them together, she was going to have to ignore it. They had to keep things professional. They had to...

  If only for her sanity.

  She took another moment, trying to calm her excited body, before nodding to herself. Without a backwards glance Lara headed to the subway and made her way back to her apartment. Instead of focusing on her partner, she busied her mind on trivial things. Focusing on the chill that bit at her despite her coat and trying to recall how empty her refrigerator was, Lara Grant knew that thinking about Nick Delano would utterly distract her.

  Yet another thing she couldn’t afford.

  * * *

  Victoria looked up from the desk but didn’t smile. The older woman wasn’t in the mood and neither was Lara. After getting back to her apartment the night before, she had tried to rest until finally falling into an uneasy sleep. One that had been interrupted by a call from her boss the next morning. Now Lara sat down opposite the woman, unsure of what it was she had been called in to talk about.