Carla Cassidy - Tough Justice Series Box Set - Parts 1-8

“And what kind of business are you in?” he asked, voice lowering. “In a place like this it can’t be anything good. Unless you’re a cop.” Even as he said the word, fear and anger moved across his expression. It was her turn to snort.

“I’m definitely no cop,” she defended. “I’ve got the arrests to prove that.” She contorted her face into obvious resentment.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Apparently cops don’t appreciate unregistered guns.”

Spike’s suspicion didn’t ebb, but his interest did grow.

“So what? Now, outta all the bars in the city, you’re here talking to me?”

She gave him a sly smile.

“Let’s just say we have a mutual friend that said this bar has the best beer on tap on this side of the city.” She winked. Spike sat up straighter, his chest slightly puffing out.

“Really? Did our mutual friend tell you what that is?” He pointed to the scribble on the coaster. The MM looked distorted, cut off by the bottom of his glass.

“I didn’t need him to. I’ve known what that is for a while.” Spike’s eyebrow rose. “It’s a rumor,” she explained. “It’s a promise. It’s stability and power. It’s a career someone like me craves.” She dropped her volume. “It’s why I’ve been coming to this shithole bar for months. I have product, I have experience, and now I’m looking at you.”

Spike appeared surprised, yet still intrigued.

“And who the hell are you?”

“Eve,” she said, outstretching her hand. “Now, let’s talk business.”

And so Eve Johannsen was born.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“By now Spike probably has realized he shouldn’t have trusted me as much as he did,” Lara said to Dr. Oliviero. “But I think he liked the attention.”

“The attention?”

“I made sure to respect him. I was interested in what he had to say, and I let him know it. We met back at the bar a few times before he finally set up a meeting with someone who could get me in. All I had to do was pass the background check.”

“Which, I assume, was very thorough.”

Lara nodded. “Dismantling Moretti’s organization was a big thing for us. We had only the best working on my cover, creating a comprehensive, solid background. One that, even through back channels, would check out.” Another memory surfaced as she spoke. “But, still, I was nervous. The man in charge of vetting me had earned a reputation for being thorough.” She took a breath. “The last time I saw Spike was the first time I met Andrew.”

“Tell me about that,” Dr. Oliviero said. He still didn’t have his notes out, but she suspected his memory was sharp. She wasn’t sure. Her attention was on the past.

“It’ll be okay so long as you’ve been straight with me so far,” Spike said, a cigarette between his lips. They stood in the alley behind a dive bar not so different from the one where they’d first met. It was well past midnight, but the crowd inside was still buzzing. Their regular spot had changed at the request of the man who would help decide if she was in or not.

“Like I said, if I was a cop I would have already turned you in,” she said with a sly smile. “And I definitely wouldn’t have bought that auto rifle from you.”

Spike smirked around his cigarette

“I ‘spose that’s true.”

They shot the shit for a few more minutes before a car parked in front of the mouth of the alley. Eve’s body tensed. The gun in the back of her jeans burned her skin, ready to be used if necessary. She had no backup near. They hadn’t wanted to risk being detected.

“That’s him,” Spike said. He threw his cigarette on the ground and twisted the heel of his shoe over it. “Good luck, Eve.” Spike walked away as the new man walked up.

Eve’s eyes widened at the sight of him.

He stopped a few feet away.

“Eve Johannsen,” he greeted. No question in his tone. She pushed her shoulders back and nodded.

“That’s me.”

“My name’s Andrew Moore,” he said in introduction. “And I’m the judge and jury for what you’re trying to become a part of.”

“So, does that mean I’m in?”

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have come here and given you my name.” He smirked. “Your background check came back satisfactory. Get in the car. We need to talk.”

Despite the situation, she felt a thrill of excitement. Eve was finally in. Now the real work would begin.

“Andrew was Moretti’s third tier and had command over all arms operations,” Lara said, finished recounting her first exchange with the man. “From that moment on, he became my direct boss...as well as my mentor.”

“You spent a lot of time with him.”

She nodded.

“Describe him to me.”

The words paused on her tongue. She thought back with hesitation before beginning.

“Handsome, in one word. Strong in another. He held himself with importance but never arrogance. Dark hair, dark eyes, mysterious. A trifecta that was only amplified by his charisma.” Lara balled her fists against her lap.

“And how do you feel about him?”

“It bothers me how attractive I find him still and—” she averted her gaze a moment “—how physically drawn to him I was. I know it sounds horrible, but he was so different from the others. He was kind and patient with me and always had my back.” Lara brought her fist up and slammed it against the desktop. “How is that possible? How is a man like him able to make me feel...” She let her words trail off. The flare of anger quickly doused. Dr. Oliviero was neither alarmed nor angry at the outburst. “How is a bastard capable of that?”

Dr. Oliviero unlaced his fingers. He stretched over the desk and patted the top of her fisted hand.

“I think that, once we explore that, you will find more peace about what happened during your time undercover.”

* * *

Exhausted.

Lara couldn’t find a better word for what she felt standing in her apartment an hour later. The good doctor hadn’t pushed her when she’d said their session that day was done. He hadn’t tried to talk her into opening up another can of worms. The exercise of examining what seeing Moretti had triggered within her seemed like a bust. But, the session had done its intended job. Lara was no longer riled up at visiting the head of the snake in prison. However, their talk had opened another wound. And it was time to try and heal it.

Almost an hour later and Lara was standing in front of a small, brick-wrapped Cape Cod and trying her best to not feel like a child. Bartholomew Grant’s last home.

It never got easier thinking about the man. Whenever she did, the image of Anna sprang up and blossomed. Normally a child’s thoughts of a mother weren’t synonymous with the father potentially being a murderer.

Lara sighed, feet planted firmly on the sidewalk.

She had spent the first years of her career poring through the case files of her mother’s murder and hadn’t found a thing. All of that hard work had been for nothing. That meant her mother’s killer was either buried beneath a tombstone Lara hadn’t visited or was possibly still out there, a free man or woman. Regardless, whatever answers Bartholomew had once known had died with him.

Now all Lara had left of either parent was a few yards away, hiding behind walls covered in aged brick.

Lara felt her feet filling with lead. She needed to go inside to do what she’d come to do. Since Bartholomew had gone into hospice care, the Cape Cod and all its things hadn’t been touched. It was Lara’s job to sort through it all and set everything right. If such a thing was possible.

Yet she couldn’t bring herself to move.

“Hey, girl!”

Startled, Lara turned to see a woman in too-tall stilettos waving from down the street. It had been a while since she’d seen her unusual friend. Lara waved back.