Cheating Justice (The Justice Team) (6 page)

A guitar riff nearly blew her hearing and she pressed a random button on the radio. Classical. She’d take it. Mitch gave her a WTF face.

“My car, my music.”

“Since when do you like classical?”

“It relaxes me, and my ears were bleeding. Did Tommy tell you anything about the taskforce? They found his body in Roswell, in a parking lot near a residential neighborhood. Did you know he was down there?”

“He didn’t share details. All he said was that he was hot and ready to be done with his latest assignment. Although, Tommy being Tommy, he had a lot to say about the women in town. Sounded like things were about to wrap up and he wanted to spend a few hours with a gal he was sweet on before he moved on to his next assignment. Next thing I know, Kemp tells me he’s dead.”

Mitch had his head turned, looking out the window, but the tight set of his jaw told her he was holding back emotions he didn’t know how to deal with.

Caroline couldn’t go there with him. As much as she wanted to, allowing him inside her head again would be torture. She wasn’t sure she could survive another round of Mitch’s brand of torture.

She merged onto the heavy, but moving expressway traffic. “Someone—besides this woman—had to be in contact with him down there. Someone had to know the details about the operation he was working on. We have to find that person. Maybe Brice Brennan might know who it was.”

“Let’s hope. Tommy liked working alone.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. The Bureau rumor is he was on the take. Selling assault weapons on the black market. I know he was your friend—”

“Yours too, Caroline.”

Whatever. “I know he was
our
friend, but you know as well as I do, none of us were getting rich as FBI agents.”

“He didn’t need money.”

“If he had a girlfriend, maybe he did.”

“Seriously? You believe this crap? Nuh-uh. I know you better. If you believed it, you wouldn’t be driving my ass on this goose chase. If you believed it, you wouldn’t have gone looking for those files.”

She glanced over at him, met his stare for a second, then went back to the road. “I’m not sure what I believe. Money makes people do crazy things. Maybe I’m here to satisfy myself. When we’re through, I’ll know for sure.
That’s
all I know right now. Now shut up and let me think for the next fifteen minutes.”

He punched the radio back to the rock station. Unbelievable. Most stubborn man ever. Well, guess what? She’d been known to be just as stubborn. Swirling her finger, she tapped the radio button to off. He sighed heavily.

Drama queen
.

She waited for a response. Something. Anything. But Mitch only sat there, quietly staring out the window as Andre gave directions and they flew by clumps of trees on the side of the road.

Maybe she’d pushed him too far. Two of his best friends were gone and he was grieving and her only interest was self-protection.

After all they’d shared, how had they gotten to this place?

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About Tommy and Kemp. About
us
. Whatever
us
is. We were friends and then we weren’t.”

Quite possibly for the first time ever, Mitch appeared speechless. He hemmed and hawed for a second. “We’re more than friends, Caroline, whether you want to admit it or not. And I appreciate what you’re doing here.”

Sharp, ugly pain shot through her ribcage. That ache when thoughts of Mitch distracted her. Made her regret what never was. And here he was, working her over again. All that sincerity and the eyes—puppy dog eyes. He thought he could suck her in with those eyes.

Maybe he could.

She gripped the steering wheel tighter as she curved around the exit ramp. Just a few more minutes and they’d be back to business. “After this, we’ll know what happened with Tommy. Let’s just focus on that for now.”

“If that’s what you want, sure.”

At the stop light, Caroline turned left and sent Andre into a fit. Clearly, she’d missed his command to turn right. Distracted.
Thanks, Mitch
.

After hooking a U-turn, she cruised down the four-lane road leading to their first address. Three turns later, she drove past their target, a small white cottage with shrubs lining the house. On the porch hung a swing with bright red floral pillows.

In the driveway was a minivan. The ultimate Mom-mobile and about as opposite as one could get from a jacked up truck.

“Not looking too good,” Mitch said.

Caroline laughed. “Excellent observation skills.”

“According to Teeg, the other address is only ten minutes from here. Should we check that one out, and if it’s a bust come back?”

Resting her forehead against the steering wheel, she mulled it over. If they went to the door and someone other than Brice answered—assuming this was his house—they’d lose all element of surprise. And considering she didn’t see his truck, she wasn’t feeling the love for this location.

Decision made, she sat up. “Yep. Let’s see what the other place looks like. Then we’ll know if we’ve wasted our time.”

And, where Mitch was concerned, every last ounce of her emotional reserves.

Red truck. Lift kit.
Kiss my rebel ass
bumper sticker. Check, check, and check. “Bingo,” Mitch said. “We found Brennan.”

Caroline parked at the curb behind the truck and they scanned the house. Raised ranch. Dark curtains. Peeling paint. Overgrown bushes lined the steps to the front porch, and the sidewalk was cracked.
Real inviting.

“I’ll knock.” Carline shut off her boring POS car. “You stay here.”

“Hell with that. I’ll knock and
you
stay here.”

“A man wanted for murder showing up on your doorstep tends to freak people out, idiot. He’ll never talk to you. Probably won’t even open the door.”

“He’s ex-ATF. You think a Bureau agent won’t scare him out the back door?”

“He doesn’t know I’m FBI. You, on the other hand, have your mug on every news station and website in the tri-state area.”

“You scream
FBI
, Caroline. The conservative clothes, the ponytail.” He opened the car door and hauled out. “I’m going in.”

Caroline, of course, jumped out on her side and slammed the door. “I’m going with you. You’re not exactly dressed for it, but we’ll pretend we’re holy rollers. You could use a little of that in your life.”

Just like the old days
. She never could sit still. Had to be the one to drive. Had to be the one to call the shots. “Ever get tired of overcompensating?”

She tucked her classic navy blue jacket tighter to her body. A body he had memorized that single night he’d had her all to himself. A body he dreamed about having again.
Like that will ever happen
. “Overcompensating for what?”

“Being female. Being…I don’t know. You don’t have to control every fucking situation.”

“When it comes to you, I do.” They climbed the steps. “Just because you project carefree and laid back, doesn’t mean you don’t have control issues.”

Mitch rolled his eyes and hit the doorbell. Stupid thing was broken. He banged on the door. “Do me a solid and at least try to act like you don’t have a cob up your ass.”

“A six-foot-two one?”

Deserved, for sure, but still he laughed. He’d missed this. Missed her.

The door cracked open an inch. A male said, “Yeah?”

“Hey, man.” Mitch motioned with his thumb. He wasn’t about to do the holy-roller act. “Nice ride. That your truck?”

A weighted pause. “What’s it to you?”

“A buddy of mine told me about that truck. Said you’d done some sweet add-ons. Wondered if you’d share your garage contacts.” Mitch pointed to the street and the god-awful car. “I need a new ride in the worst way.”

The door eased open enough for the guy to look past Mitch. He spotted Caroline, lingered for half a second—
shit, we’re blown
—then traveled to the ride in question. “Look, man, I don’t know what you’re selling, but…”

His attention came back to Mitch’s face, then his eyes widened. “Wait, don’t I know you?”

Play it cool
. Mitch held out a hand. “Name’s Mitch. I think you knew my friend, Tommy Nusco.”

The door slammed shut.

Way to go.

“Nice work, ace.” Caroline echoed his internal flogging. “Real nice. Anymore leads you want to blow for us today?”

Mitch knocked on the door again and raised his voice. “Brice, I’m not here to cause you trouble, man. I just need to know if what they’re saying about Tommy is true. He’s dead. All I want are a few answers.”

Silence.

“Told you so,” Caroline said.

“Real helpful, Caroline. Real helpful.”

She pushed him out of the way. “Brice? My name’s Caroline Foster. I was Tommy’s co-worker, and also his friend. Mitch is telling the truth…we don’t want to make trouble. We just need to understand what Tommy was doing when he died. We know you’re a former ATF agent and hoped you might have some information or know someone who worked with Tommy in New Mexico.”

Brice’s voice came from the other side. “I don’t know anything.”

“Brice, I think you do. All we know is that Tommy is dead and he’s being tagged a dirty agent. If that’s the truth, we drop this whole thing. If it’s not, we could use your investigative skills to expose the cover-up. Is it true?”

Silence. Caroline turned to Mitch and shrugged. He held up his hand. They’d wait. And wait a little longer if they had to.

“Brice?” Caroline said. “Can I at least leave my number in case you remember something?”

Mitch leaned forward, got right next to her ear where the strawberry scent of her shampoo teased his nose and triggered memories of her naked body. Last time he’d been that close they’d been tearing up her sheets, and the memory—although a damned good one—reminded him of the life and opportunities now gone. “Tommy and I went way back,” he spoke toward the door, hoping Brice was still listening on the other side. “High school, in fact. No way I believe he was dirty. You?”

The door jerked open an inch. Brice spoke in low tones. “Get in your car. Drive around the block and park. Come through the yard and I’ll let you in the back door.”

“We weren’t followed.”

“You want answers, we do this my way.”

The door slammed again.

Okay, then. “Guess we take a trip around the block.”

They hustled down the stairs. Caroline had a grin on her face. As they climbed into the car, Mitch said, “What?”

She gave him an innocent look. “Good thing I went with you.”

Good thing, my ass
. “I was prepared to wait him out.”

“Intimidation. Always effective.”

She drove as instructed. They left the car, climbed through overgrown bushes and high grass in the back yard, and made it to the door. Brice was waiting for them. He didn’t say a word, watching over their shoulders as he ushered them inside.

Paranoid much?
Mitch had been on the run too long. He was paranoid, but this guy got a gold star in the department.

The inside of the house was a shocker. Clean, neat, total opposite of the outside.
Hiding in plain view
, that’s what Brice was doing. Mitch liked the guy on principle.

Brice didn’t offer them seats or a drink. Nope, right to business. “Whatever we say is off the record.”

“Fine with us.” Caroline, always happy to get down to business, nodded. “We were never here, never spoke to you.”

Brice seemed to relax a bit.

Two of a kind
. Maybe it
was
a good idea she’d accompanied him on this adventure.

Mitch put space between Caroline and himself. That damn shampoo smell messed with his brain cells. And his libido. “Did you know Tommy?”

“Not personally. Some of my contacts did though.”

“Any idea what he was working on?” Caroline asked.

Brice shook his head. “It was some taskforce, but nobody is talking. The agents, the good ones, are too scared. ATF isn’t what it used to be. Management intimidation is the norm. You don’t fall in line, you and your family get transferred to shit holes. Five different ones in two years. Any idea what that’s like for a guy with kids in school? Worse than waterboarding.”

Intimidation tactics at ATF had long been rumored but Caroline reserved judgment. If she was going to believe a government agency stooped to those levels she wanted proof.

Brice turned to her. “You’re FBI?”

“I am.”

“You sure you want to skip through this mine field?”

“If a good agent is about to be labeled a traitor, you’re damn straight. I worked with this man and I’m not fool enough to believe people don’t change, but I tried to get into a protected file about Tommy and was told—quite clearly—to stay out of it. That makes me twitchy. Makes me think good agents, ones like myself, could easily get screwed as well. So, if he
was
dirty, I want proof.”

“Ho-kay,” Mitch said. “Back on point. Brice, if you can hook us up, maybe we can figure out why ATF is covering up Tommy’s death.”