Deadly Justice (32 page)

“You ain't going nowhere.”  The thug who'd held the gun to his head earlier muttered from behind him.  “Anybody comes through that door and I'll put a bullet in their gut.” 

Samuel didn't even bother turning to look at the idiot, who didn't know he was outnumbered and outgunned.  “Hang on, Max, we'll be out in a minute.” 

“Damn, but you've got some brass balls on you, Sammy.”  The barrel of Webster's Glock shifted into Andrea's side, though she remained silent. 

The phone in his pocket vibrated. 
About damned time
.  He gestured toward it.  “Mind if I answer this?” 

“Why the hell not?  Put it on speaker.”  Webster's fingers around Andrea's throat eased and she drew in a shuddering breath.  Samuel pulled out the phone.

“Carpenter.” 

“Hey, boss.  It's done.”  Carlisle's voice sounded abnormally loud and cheerful.  “It was a piece of cake.”

He smiled.  “Excellent work, Stefan.  Text me the details please.”

“Already done.  You need anything else?”

“No, I think we're about finished here.”  He hit the off button, ending the call, and pulled up the text message and chuckled.

“What's so funny?” 

There it was, that barely disguised hint of panic lacing Webster's words.  He'd lost—everything—he just didn't know it yet. 

“I'm just looking at a listing of all your offshore accounts.  Funny, I thought you'd have bigger balances.  I'm surprised they let you keep accounts open with nothing in them.”

“What!”  Webster's high-pitched voice screeched out the single word. 

“Well, to be honest, those are only the ones in the Cayman banks.  The Swiss accounts, though, oh wait—they have zero balances too.  Well, well, looks like the Russian bank's empty too.” 

“No!”  Anguish coated Webster's vehement denial.  His face took on a ruddy hue and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. 

“By the way, the feds confiscated the C4 shipments too.  Yep, ATF says they are gonna have a party after that haul.”

Webster's posture deflated, yet he kept the gun dug deep against Andrea's side.  Carpenter lobbed another taunt at him.

“Gotta admire a man who does his job well, and Carlisle is
really
good at his job.  He tracked every single one of your accounts, and emptied them all.  You are now as poor as a church mouse,
Dick
.”  That last jibe had to hurt, because he knew Webster despised being called by the nickname. 

The gun in Webster's hand rose away from Andrea's body, finally giving him the opening he'd been waiting for.  Diving in low, he felt the heat from a bullet scrape across his biceps, but he barreled forward, knocking into Andrea and Webster.  A dark blur sped past him.  Ranger and Jean-Luc.  They'd take care of the other idiot thug with the gun.  The one on the floor had rolled out of sight, and Carpenter didn't spare him another thought. 

“You're dead!”  Webster lunged forward, Andrea all but forgotten in his rage, which was exactly what Samuel wanted.  Webster fought dirty, but he'd been expecting that.  After all, he'd trained Samuel.  As long as Andrea was free and clear, he could concentrate on taking down the man he'd been hunting for so long.

The anger riding Webster made him sloppy.  Letting his emotions control him was a big mistake, and Samuel took advantage of every one of them.  Sinking his fist into Webster's gut felt damned good.  He blocked the blow aimed at his head with a forearm, followed by an uppercut straight to Webster's jaw. 

The son of a bitch dared lay his hands on Andrea, threatened her, and now he'd pay the price.  Blow after blow landed, with grunts of pain from the downed man.  A hand grabbed his arm, and he tried yanking it free, but couldn't.  Ranger held him firm.

“He's down, man.  I'll take care of him.  You go get your girl.” 

The rest of his team spilled into the cabin, and Remy slapped handcuffs on Webster, who didn't resist.  He was a broken man, and he'd spend the rest of his miserable life in prison.  Preferably a Supermax, where he'd never see the light of day again. 

Andrea flung herself into his arms.  “Are you alright?” 

“I'm fine.  More worried about you.  Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head.  “You know I didn’t mean a word of that nonsense, right?” 

His hand trembled as he ran it through her hair, and cupped her cheek.  “I understood what you were doing.  Very smart move, by the way.”  Her body relaxed against his, and he realized how worried she'd been that he'd bought into her act. 

“I know you, sweetheart.  You'd never align yourself with a man like Webster.” 

She gasped.  “What about Ms. Willie? Is she…”

“Shh.”  He held her against him, running a soothing hand along her spine as she shivered in his arms.  “She's going to be fine.  Right now she's in the hospital, and I'm going to make sure that she's spoiled and pampered and gets everything she wants.” 

Andrea burrowed closer in his arms, and he inhaled her scent, suddenly overcome with the knowledge he could have lost her.  His arms tightened around her, and she hugged him back.

“So, it's over?” 

“That depends.”  He drew back and cupped her face between his hands.  “The hunt for Richard Webster—yes, that's over.”  Adrenaline still coursed through his bloodstream at the realization he'd almost lost her.  One misstep, one wrong move, and she wouldn't be in his arms. 

“But we're not over,” he whispered against her lips.  “Not by a longshot.” 

She tilted her head back and stared up at him, her jade green eyes searching his face, and he read the answering hunger in their depths. 

“We're just getting started.” 

I
f she didn't hurry up, Samuel would be pounding on the bathroom door.  Tonight the whole gang was celebrating Richard Webster's arrest.   A shudder coursed through her when she thought about the close call from two days ago.

Still, it was all over except the shouting.  The mountains of evidence against Richard Webster ensured the man would spend the rest of his natural life in prison, if he didn't get the death penalty.  With all his illegal funds confiscated, he'd been assigned a public defender, but neither she nor Carpenter expected that would last long.  Webster still had friends in high places, and sooner or later somebody would step up and provide some fancy, high-priced lawyer to try and get him out of trouble.  That or he'd end up on the wrong end of an assassin's bullet. 

He'd cold-bloodedly murdered several federal agents, both DEA and ATF, during the raid in Brownsville and tried to frame Samuel.  That, added to the list of drug smuggling, gunrunning charges, plus the smuggled C4 confiscated by the ATF—there wasn't a chance he'd ever walk around a free man again. 

The hairbrush she dragged through her hair paused.  Who'd have guessed one of the two guys working for Webster at the cabin would end up being an undercover FBI agent, compiling evidence to put the man away?  Samuel's temper tantrum had been legendary, heard all the way to Washington, DC.  She'd bet their ears were still ringing from his curses.  The feds knew where Webster had been the whole time Samuel'd been searching, and they'd never said a word. 

Close to making an arrest, Webster somehow always made the evidence or witnesses disappear.  Once he'd been taken into custody, a beaten man, the feds duly authorized Carlisle to get his hands on several of Webster's computers.  Hell, they knew he'd find anything Webster had buried faster than anybody else they had working for them. 

And they'd been right.  He'd uncovered enough documentation to bring down not only Webster but a string of other high-ranking government employees, as well as one state legislator. 

Andrea stared in the bathroom mirror, wiping away the droplets of water clinging to its surface and looked at the woman reflected back.  Finally, she'd gotten justice for John's murder.  Though the whole thing started out as a need for vengeance, it felt right that Webster live out the rest of his life without all the things he'd held important. 
Money and power
.  Where he was headed, he'd have neither. 

Andrea winced when she remembered Webster's hand wrapped tight around her throat, cutting off her air.  The gun jammed into her side.  Through it all, she'd known Samuel would find a way to keep her alive.  He'd been her real life hero.

“The guys will be downstairs any minute, hon.  You ready?”  Samuel's voice sounded through the closed bathroom door, and she slid the brush through her hair one final time.  She was as ready as she was going to get.  A heavy layering of makeup hid the bruises on her neck.  The sight of them bothered him—a lot—so she'd covered them up.  Tonight was a night to celebrate, not relive Webster almost killing them both. 

“I'm ready.” 

She stepped out of the bathroom and did a quick spin, the skirt of her dress flaring out around her.  The soft lavender color was a lovely foil against her skin.  Its halter-style neckline emphasized her assets without putting too much on display.  The skirt skimmed softly over her hips and flared outward, the style highlighting her body perfectly.  Samuel had great taste.

They planned to meet up with the whole team, plus Remy and his fiancée along with Max and his wife.  Samuel rented out an entire restaurant, where they'd be free to talk without being overheard by half of New Orleans.  Ms. Willie was home from the hospital and recovering nicely.  She'd the guest of honor at their party. 

Andrea wasn't sure if Samuel knew about Ms. Willie's extracurricular and unusual background, and had no plans to tell him.  It was Ms. Willie's place to share her secrets—or not—with Samuel.

His appreciative whistle made her smile. 

“You look gorgeous.”

“Thanks.  You clean up pretty good yourself.” 

A dark charcoal Armani suit fit him like the designer had him in mind when he'd created it.  Maybe they had.  The deep gray of the suit was a perfect complement to his eyes.  The color also accented his blond hair. 

“Limos are waiting to pick everyone up.  Though I'd rather stay here with you.”  He swept her into his arms, her back against his front, and nuzzled his lips against her nape, warm arms wrapped beneath her breasts.  Tonight she wanted to be beautiful.  For him.  He'd changed her world.  It had nothing to do with his money.  Her stepbrother was probably worth as much as Samuel, maybe more.  No, Samuel made her see life was worth living again.  Pulled her out of her pool of loss and despair over John's death, and her quest for revenge and made her feel complete. 

“We promised the team we'd celebrate.  But maybe,” she turned, smoothing her hand down his shirt front, “we can have a private celebration when we get home.” 

His eyes lit with an inner hunger and she knew hers reflected it back.  She loved this man with all her heart, even if they had only known each other a short time.  They'd lived a lifetime in those days and she wouldn't change a minute of it, because it brought her the man she loved.  For however long they had together, she'd spend it loving him. 

“It's a date.” 

# # # # #

The party had been a rousing success.  Champagne flowed and stories exchanged about not only the Webster case, but several others the team successfully completed in the past.  Remy and Max Lamoreaux teased Samuel with stories of their school days, and it had been a wonderful time.  Yet, she couldn't wait to get home.

Somehow, in the span of just a few short days, the penthouse apartment had become home.  It felt like a place she belonged, especially when Samuel was there with her.  Tonight she intended to make a memory, something to last a lifetime.  They'd celebrated Webster's arrest, and now it was time to celebrate the renewed lease on life Samuel had given her. 

Andrea straightened and checked her reflection one final time before opening the bathroom door.  She pulled the clip from her hair as she entered the bedroom, the waves cascading over her shoulders and spilling halfway down her back.   Sprawled across the king-size bed, Samuel leaned against the headboard, his muscular shoulders resting against pillows piled high behind him.  Storm-cloud gray eyes gleamed in the dim light from the bedside lamp on the night stand, its soft glow illuminating the room.  He gave a soft whistle when she stopped at the foot of the bed.

“You are so damn gorgeous.  I'm a very lucky guy.”

Andrea snorted, nearly choking on her laughter.  “And you're about to get even luckier.”

She untied the belt of her satin robe and allowed the edges to part in a slow ripple of pale pink.  It slid from her shoulders and down to her hands.  With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it onto the foot of the bed and stood before him naked and open to his heated gaze.

At his quick grin, she knelt on the edge of the mattress and tried to be graceful as she crawled toward him, and hoped she wasn't making a total fool of herself.  His eyes devoured her, his gaze an almost tactile caress against her skin.  Her gaze never left his.  Shoving aside the light sheet covering him, Samuel's body was exposed to her feasting eyes, as naked as her own, and she again marveled that he wanted her.  The physical evidence of his arousal was evident with a simple glance.  Her own desire spiked higher, and her stomach muscles tightened in anticipation.

Reaching out, she traced her fingertips against his cheek and he turned his face into her palm, pressing a moist kiss there before drawing her fingertip into his mouth with a quick gentle nip at the tip.  She grinned at his playfulness, an open invitation for more.  She loved it when he was in this mood.  Sexy and oh so masculine.  Confident in the way he made her feel wanted, as though she were the most precious thing in the world.

Pressing her lips against the hollow of his throat, she trailed kisses along his jaw, pausing at the spot where his neck met the curve of his shoulder.  It was one of his hot spots, a place that sent him into a passionate frenzy.  Precisely how she wanted him tonight.  After the fallout from Webster, the C4 shipments, and multiple hours dealing with the authorities, which segued into days of interviews with the government, they were finally absolved and cleared to pursue their lives.  A life she meant to live to the fullest.