Blind Justice Page 5

  “Where’d you learn that?” Jeff asked.

  She arched one sculpted brow. “Unfortunately, this isn’t my first rodeo. I watched some videos on how to get free after my last kidnapping, but I never tried it for real. They made it look easy.”

  One side of his mouth quirked against his will. “Focus on pulling your hands away from each other next time.”

  Determination hardened her delicate features. She crashed her wrists into her lower back with a grunt and stumbled forward as her arms flew free. “It worked!”

  Her smile made his heart skip a beat.

  “Nice job,” he said. “See if you can find anything in the truck to tie him up. We need to get moving in case the other one recovers.”

  She cast him a worried look but opened the rear lift gate of the Dodge and returned with a bungee cord. “Will this work?”

  “Long enough for us to get out of here.”

  Minutes later, the goon was bound, but Jeff didn’t relax his hold on the guy’s arm.

  “Who are you working for?” Jeff asked.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Why are you after us?”

  “I’m more scared of him than you,” his captive said through clenched teeth.

  Jeff resisted the urge to kick the fucker in the ribs. “I’m not going to torture him. We need to get the hell out of here.” They couldn’t risk waiting around for the police with their captive’s partner on the loose.

  Using his phone, Jeff took the man’s picture, and within minutes, they were driving down a residential street in Jeff’s aging Forerunner, which had been parked in a visitor’s space at the back of Tara’s building. His car wasn’t fancy, but it was solid. All his extra money went toward finding Evan.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. Thank you,” Tara said. “Again.”

  Jeff shrugged. What else would he have done? Leave her? “The guy who grabbed me was the same one from the garage.”

  “The Hulk?” she asked.

  He nodded. The name fit.

  “We need to report this to the police.”

  “Do you know where the Arlington station is?”

  “Turn left onto Wilson. It’s not far from Dillman’s Donuts.”

  The adrenaline was wearing off and his arms trembled as if he’d just finished a set of heavy bench presses. He turned onto the busy street and they crawled through the Friday evening traffic. God, he was tired to the bone. He’d hardly slept a full night in the last four months.

  Maybe some music would help. He reached for the radio and fire ripped through his right lower back. He grunted. One of the attackers must have hit him harder than he thought.

  Tara shifted to face him, a deep crease between her brows. “Are you all right?”

  No. He was horny, his chin throbbed, his side hurt… “I’m fine.” Nodding toward the stereo, he said, “Can you find us something to listen to?”

  “Oh, my God,” Tara said. “Jeff, you’re bleeding.”

  “Pull over,” Tara said.

  Jeff glanced down at his right side. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Your hip is covered in blood.”

  He stopped at a red light and glanced down at the dark stain on his faded jeans. “Shit. I didn’t realize he actually cut me.” A frown marred his handsome face.

  She gently touched his shoulder as the light turned green and the SUV accelerated. “Jeff. You need to see a doctor. The hospital isn’t far. Pull over and I’ll drive.”

  He swore under his breath and worked his way into to the right lane to turn in to a health club parking lot. “It’s probably not as bad as it looks. I have a first aid kit. You could patch me up.”

  “Don’t be stubborn.” Tara scrambled out of the car as soon as the engine stopped, and ran around to the driver’s side. “Out,” she mouthed to his closed window.

  Wincing, he opened the door and stood. Lifting his parka and a gray shirt to reveal taut abs, he tried to view the wound in the reflection of the side window.

  “Let me see.” Tara circled around him, fighting a bout of wooziness with slow deep breaths. She’d faced bloody wounds before but she would never have the constitution required of a medic.

  Blood crusted Jeff’s skin below a wide, oozing gash across his lower ribs.

  She pressed a hand to her uneasy stomach. “I can’t tell how deep it is, but it’s about five inches long and still bleeding.” He definitely needed a hospital. “Where’s your first aid kit?”

  “In the back.”

  Tara found the small, plastic case. Based on her experience with the other guys at Steele, if he’d been a PJ, he’d never leave the house without a duffle bag full of medical supplies. She didn’t fully understand what he’d done as a combat weatherman, but patching up the wounded on the reg probably wasn’t in the job description.

  Placing the kit on the front seat, she used an alcohol wipe to clean her hands, then covered the wound with several layers of thick gauze and taped them to his side. “Can you keep pressure on that while I drive?”

  “Yeah.” He laid the keys on the seat and slid into the passenger side, keeping a hand pressed to his back while she cleaned up and returned the first aid kit to the trunk. “This is probably a waste of time,” he said when she got behind the wheel.

  “Maybe.” She closed the door and started the engine. “But I’d rather err on the side of caution. I can call the police from the hospital.”

  “These guys are serious.”

  Tara glanced at him before pulling into traffic. “The attackers?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  She’d been trying her best not to think about it. “Mars is dead. I don’t understand who’s after us now. Or why.”

  Tara slammed on the brakes to avoid hitting a huge truck that cut her off.

  Jeff grunted.

  “Sorry.”

  “I’m fine,” he ground out.

  Sure he was.

  “Maybe the police can figure out who hired those guys,” Jeff said. “Although they probably already took off in the confusion with the fire trucks.”

  “Which they created.”

  “Exactly.”

  She sighed and drove the rest of the way in silence.

  The ER was relatively slow—not late enough in the day yet, maybe—and Jeff was taken to a room immediately. “You’re welcome to come with,” the aide said to Tara.

  “Oh, no, I’m not… We’re not…” But part of her wanted to be. Wanted them to be. Stupid.

  “Okay.” The man in scrubs gave her an assessing look and then ushered Jeff through a set of double doors.

  Tara hadn’t been in an emergency room since the day Jenna’s husband Mick nearly died. The day Colin had betrayed her and almost been killed himself. The antiseptic smell, the soft hush of hot air through vents, the random cries and beeping machines brought back too many unwanted memories.

  She was a stronger, better woman now. Independent, fulfilled, happy.

  Lonely.

  Okay, yes, maybe a little, but life was good. At least, it had been until someone put her on their hit list.

  “How could you fail again?” Rick slammed his fist onto his desk and glared at his best heavy. The job should have been finished hours ago.

  Hank shrugged his large shoulders. “She had help. Same guy as last time. He’s built like a giraffe, but he has skills.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Fucker gave me a concussion.”

  Rick took a deep breath, spread his palms flat on his desk, and slowly settled into his office chair, his gaze never leaving his hired muscle. His type-A, short-tempered older brother had nearly died of a heart attack at forty-five and Rick had no plans to follow in his footsteps now that he was the same age. “You understand how important this is, right?” he asked, his voice calm, his pulse steady.

  Hank nodded, his ears and cheeks turning deep red.

  “This woman saw something and might have evidence. I need her taken care of ASAP. And the guy with her
too, now that he’s seen your faces. Nothing can lead the police back to me, got it?”

  Hank nodded.

  “Their deaths need to look like an accident, but keep it simple. Run them off the road or something. Drop a building on their fucking heads. I don’t know. Just find them and get it done.”

  The alternative was not an option. Tara might not realize what she knew yet, but come Monday, his client would be fucked.

  More importantly, so would Rick’s reputation.

  “Yes, sir.” The big man crossed his arms. “What about Gorou?”

  Hank’s partner in the fire debacle had been arrested.

  Rick ran a hand through his hair so he wouldn’t be tempted to strangle Hank. Could they have made the attempt on Tara’s life any more fucking complicated? “Forget about Gorou. He’s no good to us in police hands. He’ll be dealt with.” Rick had no patience for fuck-ups.

  He also had someone inside the police department with a serious gambling debt and a young family. And some videos the corrupt cop didn’t want made public.

  “Yes, sir,” Hank ground out through clenched teeth.

  “Enough chit-chat. I need this done yesterday. Make. It. Fucking. Happen.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  BY TEN O’CLOCK that night, Tara was mentally fried from constantly looking over her shoulder, being grilled by the cops—again—and, oh yeah, almost getting killed or kidnapped or God knew what.

  Again.

  She and Jeff had spent the last couple of hours driving random routes around NOVA—northern Virginia—to determine if they were being followed. Somewhere in Springfield, when both of them agreed they were tail-free, they’d stopped. Now, they faced each other over a sticky table at a tacky Mexican restaurant they’d found after turning off their cell phones and replacing them with the pay-as-you-go variety.

  Tara nibbled at an avocado taco and sipped her water, wishing it were a cerveza. Honestly, given the events of the day, she was tempted to go for straight tequila.

  “I don’t think you should go back to your place,” Jeff said, before taking a bite of an enormous burrito.

  Not that she was eager to, but… “You think I should let these guys drive me out of my home?” She stirred the refried beans into a swirl with her fork. “For how long?”

  “Look, I know it sucks, but if I were them, I’d keep a guy on your condo in case you return.” He swigged his soda and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Is there someone you can stay with?”

  She toyed with a tortilla chip she no longer wanted. At least she knew he wasn’t using this as an excuse to come on to her. So what if that old, stupid part of her had wanted him to? “I’m not going to put anyone I care about in danger. I’ll find a hotel room.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he said on a sigh. “You can stay with me if you don’t mind a loft bed.”

  Such enthusiasm.

  Leaning back, she ate the chip in her hand, mainly to buy some time before responding. As much as Jeff intrigued her with his warm eyes and rare smiles, how much did she really know about him? Okay, sure, he’d been vetted by Steele’s in-house computer expert/hacker Valerie, as well as Kurt. That counted for a lot. Plus, Jeff always treated her with respect and didn’t give off creepy vibes. And he’d totally had her back today.

  But she had a history of trusting the wrong men. A long history of misjudging their intentions, especially in Colin’s case.

  How did she know if she could trust her perception of this man, now?

  And yet, wasn’t he a smarter choice than going it alone? The rest of the Steele team was gone. She wouldn’t bring danger to Jenna’s door no matter how capable her husband Mick was. Especially now that they had a toddler at home and a baby on the way. Tara was safer with Jeff than on her own. Today’s attacks had made that more than clear. If she went to a hotel and the killers found her again, she’d have no protection. She sure as hell wouldn’t be able to sleep for thinking about it.

  “How is your place any safer? For all we know, they have your name and address too,” she finally said.

  “How do you feel about camping? It’s easy to pay cash and stay off the radar. Unless you prefer a seedy motel.”

  She couldn’t stop herself from wrinkling her nose. Of course he camped. “Like full-on tent-and-sleeping-bag camping, or something a little less…rustic?”

  His smile did funny things to her chest, and he plowed through a quarter of his burrito before responding. “I’ve been living in my parents’ old RV until I decide on something more permanent. It’s mobile, and it sleeps four uncomfortably.”

  “What a realtor might call ‘cozy’?”

  “Sure.” His brown eyes twinkled in a way she’d never seen before. “Let’s go with that.”

  In fact, come to think of it, despite his general friendliness with everyone at work, she’d rarely seen him look truly lighthearted or, well…happy.

  “Okay, I’m game,” she said. “But again, for how long?”

  “Let’s try through the weekend, see if the police can make any headway on who these guys are. Then we’ll reevaluate.”

  “That’s reasonable, I guess,” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “You must not have a girlfriend.”

  Never let it be said that she didn’t excel at subtlety.

  His eyebrow shot up. “What makes you say that?”

  “Because no woman I know would be okay with you shacking up with another woman for the weekend, even if there are separate beds and everything.” She sure as hell wouldn’t be. At least not outside the scope of his work for Steele. It was one thing to be assigned to protection detail by his boss. It was quite another to volunteer.

  He set down his napkin, leaning forward to pin her to the seat with his warm brown eyes and solemn expression. “Tara, you know I’m not hitting on you, right?”

  She suppressed a smile and leaned in, mimicking his earnest look. “I totally do.”

  A deep, off-center crease appeared between his brows.

  Taking pity on him, she freed her smile. “Sorry. I may suck at figuring out a guy’s long-term intentions, but I’m pretty much an expert at reading when they’re into me. Or not.” The ability to recognize that spark of interest had gotten her into far too much trouble over the years.

  And why the hell was she telling him?

  Jeff cleared his throat and fiddled with the fork resting on his plate. “Tara, you’re a beautiful woman, but I’m not… There’s too much shit in my life right now for me to even contemplate—”

  “Stop. It’s fine. I wasn’t complaining or looking for flattery. The last thing I want right now is a romantic entanglement. I’ve had enough for a lifetime and it would be a complication I definitely don’t need while someone’s gunning for me.” If she said it enough times, she might even believe it.

  Confusion flitted across his strong features.

  “Look, I’m glad there’s nothing here.” She waved her hand between them. “That’s all I’m trying to say.”

  “O-kay.”

  “And besides,” she said, “while it’s nice to be thought of as beautiful, there’s a lot more to me than looks. Any man who expects to get serious will have to think so too.”

  “Of course.”

  “So, I accept your offer. Let’s go camping.”

  The scents of damp wool and engine grease in the RV always brought back a flood of memories for Jeff. A few of them good.

  He and Tara had retrieved his motor home from a long-term campground in Burke, and she’d followed him in his Forerunner to a campsite in nearby Gainesville, Virginia. They were all hooked up, but now it was after midnight, and he was beat.

  “Tomorrow we can venture out for whatever you need, but I have some unopened toiletries in the bathroom,” he said.

  Tara sat across from him at the small dining table with her feet tucked under her, still wearing her ripped pea coat, legs bare. The old heater hummed in the background, working hard to chase the chill from the air. It would t
ake a while to warm up as the temps outside dropped into the low twenties.

  “I’ll be fine.” She dug through her oversized blue purse and produced a bulging makeup bag. “I carry a toothbrush and basic toiletries with me.”

  That had to be how she maintained her perfect appearance. Right now, curled on the bench with her shoes kicked off, was the most relaxed—and approachable—he’d ever seen her. She thought she could always tell when a man was into her? Apparently not, because he’d felt a pull from day one.

  But he had plenty of experience hiding his true feelings. He’d learned early on not to let his older brother have any inkling what was going on in his head or Ian would find a way to use it against him. That was one of the things Bridget had hated about Jeff. She could never tell what he was thinking.

  And Tara wouldn’t be able to either, unless he wanted her to, because despite his attraction, he’d never act on it. Even if he hadn’t had good reasons to avoid a relationship, Tara wasn’t his type. He’d dated a beautiful woman he had nothing in common with before, and look how that had turned out. Bridget had lied and manipulated, and ultimately taken everything that mattered to him.

  The now-familiar hollowness invaded his chest.

  Ruthlessly shoving those thoughts aside, he focused on Tara. She didn’t seem to have the same dubious relationship with the truth as Bridget, and she was even more compelling. If his life were different, she would likely be fun to date, but he deserved someone outdoorsy, low maintenance, sporty. Someone who wouldn’t mind getting in the mud with little kids.

  A good match.

  Fair or not, Jeff couldn’t imagine her on a simple hike in the woods, let alone getting dirty.

  Standing, Tara said, “I’ll go get ready.”

  While she was closeted in the tiny bathroom with her cosmetic bag, he dragged the pillow off the bunk above the cab in preparation for making the bed. A brown stuffed dog came with it, hitting him in the face and landing on the floor.

  “Pickles.” He grabbed the toy and brushed it off.