Hatshepsut's Collar (The Artifact Hunters #2) (46 page)

“So your phone does work.”

“Yes, why?” She frowned at both Ariel and the notepad.

“You’re my best friend who hooked up with a rock hard god last night. I expected my phone to be full with either pictures or graphic details, and preferably graphic pics.”

JJ gave a yawn and took a sip of her coffee. “I’ve been asleep.”

Laughter tinkered over the connection. “Told ya!” Ariel squealed in delight. “Good then?”

“I thought so.” She couldn’t keep the uncertainty from her voice.

“Uh-oh. Do you think he’ll call?”

Her frown deepened. “Nope. But then I told him not to talk to me. I wasn’t interested in conversation. And I left before it got weird and didn’t leave a number.”

“Well, promise to go back with me next Friday, there’s plenty more hotties there waiting for us.” Ariel had a simplistic view on life; wait ten minutes and another cock would come along, more reliable than the bus service.

“I don’t think so; one night stands aren’t my style. That was a oncer. Plus there’s something about that place, Ariel. I don’t think it’s entirely legit. Did you see the guys working the room? They looked like mob enforcers.”

Ariel snorted. “Don’t come high and mighty with me, we met in juvie.”

JJ dropped the coffee onto the coaster. “My record is sealed.” She lowered her voice, as though someone could overhear.

“But my mouth isn’t. Promise, or I’ll suffer a sudden bout of verbal diarrhea.”

As a best friend, Ariel could sometimes be insufferable, but maybe she should check the club out again, try and sniff out what was going on there. There was an undertone that fired up all her senses. It could be tied to Matthews, and any information added to her arsenal against him. Plus, now with her curiosity about the bartender satisfied, she should be able to keep her panties on. “All right, but only to keep you out of trouble.”

JJ ended the call and buried her phone under a stack of police reports, then turned her attention to the prosecution’s argument, which is this case, had as many holes as Swiss cheese and the substance of fairy floss.

Douglas Matthews was the instigator behind the scenes. A man who made her skin crawl and set the pain pounding through the base of her skull. He was a prime example that breeding, money, and power didn’t make you a worthy human being. He was the rot killing their city as his hunger and greed grew. Much needed funds for inner city projects were funneled into his pockets. The medical center where Ariel worked as a nurse was chronically short of resources, despite the six figure checks written out at charity functions. JJ knew in her gut where the money ended up, she just needed proof.

The power behind the throne, Matthews had his hand so far up the DA and governor he wore them both as puppets. Her brain baulked at labelling him evil, not believing in divine labels. The man wore a permanent black smudge around him; his very existence an oil slick. It spread and killed whatever it touched. She would destroy him; she just needed to find the right weapon.

Monday morning and the ache in JJ’s head slammed home like a petulant teenager after a heavy weekend. She walked through the courtroom doors to find Matthews and three of his goons waiting with the prosecution team. Immaculately clad in an Armani suit and radiating blond charm, Matthews detached from his group of sycophants and headed her way. She kept her eyes fixed on him, not the smear trailing three feet behind him and polluting the air in the wood paneled room.

“Good morning, Mr. Matthews.” JJ plastered her best fake smile on her face, while trying to ignore the rabid wasps swarming around him as they dove at her, their stingers plunging into her brain. She sucked in a quick breath as the pain bloomed, and dug her fingernails into her palm as a counterpoint.

He stopped too close, but she wouldn’t step back and give him the satisfaction of knowing he repulsed her.

He jerked his head to where her client sat, waiting. “What are you doing Ms. Johnson, wasting your talents defending scum like that? I could make you a very wealthy woman if you played for my team.”

She held her ground, her nails gouging deeper into her flesh. “I don’t like the way your team plays.”

He jabbed a finger in her face. “Think long and hard, Ms. Johnson, before you damage your career. I doubt Simon would approve of your clientele. I’m surprised he hasn’t put his foot down.”

She held his gaze. “I don’t answer to Simon, or anybody, Mr. Matthews.
Nobody
pulls my strings.”

JJ turned and walked away, managing to resist the urge to rub the back of her neck. His presence set her teeth on edge, the pain stabbed through her skull whenever he entered a room. She drew a deep breath, and squashed her body’s response down the best she could. She had to concentrate. The poor woman waiting at the front of the courtroom needed her full attention.

Mandy sat at the defense table. The guard had unchained her wrists, but she kept her hands tucked in her lap. Lank, blonde hair hid her face. When she looked up, wide eyes glistened with unshed tears, and nearly broke JJ’s heart. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, as though she were somehow to blame.

JJ seated herself next to her client and reached an arm around to give her a quick, reassuring hug. “Please, his sort has never worried me.”

They rose for the judge, a man she knew as hard but fair, and the DA launched into his verbose and emotive opening. She made notes as he droned on and patiently waited her turn. It broke her heart the way she had to serve up Mandy like a Sunday roast, but she knew the proceedings demanded theatre. The case was set down for all week; but she had a personal bet to have it tossed by the end of the day.

Rising, she strode to the middle of her stage, and proceeded to lay out the abuse the tiny woman suffered over the previous twelve months. Reports, photos, broken bones. Systematically, she broke down the prosecution’s case, knocking over their cardboard buildings. The day wore on, the clock edged closer to four pm. Then she laid her trump card.

“I’d like to call Samuel Williams, please your Honor.”

The DA leapt to his feet. “Objection, there has been no mention of this witness.”

“Oh, he’s not a witness.” She flashed a smile.

“Explain Ms. Johnson.” The judge peered over the top of his glasses.

“He’s a prop, your Honor.”

“A prop?” Eyebrows shot up, hovering over the wire rimmed glasses.

“Yes, sir. I promise he won’t say a word.”

The judge dropped one eyebrow and left the other up in the air, her cue to clue him in on her little game.

“Sir, we both know a picture is worth a thousand words. I could bore you for the next hour until we’re out of time for the day, rattling off height-weight comparisons and minute statistical differentials. Or, I could stand Mr. Williams in the middle of the court room for five minutes for a succinct visual.”

The judge narrowed his eyes. JJ knew she walked a line, but she also knew he hated being late for dinner, and he loathed having to wade through figures and numbers. Math wasn’t their strong suit; that’s why they became lawyers and not accountants. “I’ll allow it. As long as he doesn’t open his mouth.”

The call went down the room for Williams to be brought forward. JJ walked to Mandy and squeezed her shoulder. “Trust me,” she whispered. The other woman nodded her head.

Williams appeared and she took the man’s arm and led him to a spot in front of the judge. “Your Honor, this gentleman is the exact same height, weight, and build, as the deceased.” She turned her attention to her client. “Would you come here please, Ms. Simpson?”

Mandy rose and walked to her on shaky limbs. The petite woman’s gaze took in the towering man and no one could fail to notice the tremble running through her frail body. JJ looped an arm around her shoulders and positioned her client next to the prop. The exercise was the visual equivalent of putting a Chihuahua puppy next to a full-grown timber wolf.

She watched the judge’s eyes, assessing the moment her point sunk in. “Thank you both.” She dismissed the client and their visual aid. Mandy scurried back to her seat and rubbed her hands over her arms.

The judge glared at JJ, and she resisted the urge to bite her lip. He banged his gavel, a heavy scowl over his face. “Fifteen minute recess.”

Crap
.
I don’t know which way this is going to go.

They all rose as the judge slipped away to his chambers.

The DA crowed. “You’ve pissed him off, Johnson. The diva just made a tactical error.”

Mandy looked close to tears.

JJ took her hand. “Just wait, it’ll be ok.”

As she turned, her gaze caught two men seated at the back of the courtroom, the bartender, and bouncer from Friday night. Her heart jumped and her throat went dry. Her one night stand wore a white t-shirt under a black leather bomber jacket and looked like the next defendant. He radiated trouble, and she knew she should stay far, far away from him and whatever flashed red about that club in the back of her head. She had enough on her plate with Matthews; she didn’t need another problem giving her splitting headaches. So why, when her eyes met slate grey ones and he gave a lazy smile, did her innards turn to liquid?

Because he cured your headache
, her treacherous libido pointed out.

The bailiff called everyone back to their seats. JJ stood with Mandy, who swayed on her feet, as the judge returned and took his seat.

His gaze flicked from her to the DA before settling back on her. “I’m tossing this case. All charges are dismissed.” He banged his gavel, before pointing it at the DA. “Don’t ever bring a facetious case like this before me again, wasting both my time and court resources. Do your homework, not someone else’s bidding.”

Matthews roared from behind the public rail and hurled abuse at his team of sock puppet lawyers. JJ busied her hands packing her briefcase, or she would have given him a one-fingered salute.

Mandy gave her a brief hug. “Thank you.” A shy smile transformed her face.

One tiny smile, and the woman’s smudge lightened a shade, from dirty white, to not so dirty white, and JJ knew the process of healing began. The slight woman worried her though. So vulnerable, and Matthews would seek revenge for the death of his son. She needed to come up with a plan to ensure Mandy’s safety, but the headache pounded through her and drowned everything out. Each day it became worse and nothing dulled the pain, except one brief encounter in a bar, three days ago.

She walked with Mandy from the courtroom.

Matthews leapt on her, Mandy dodged behind. “This isn’t over.” He threw her a cold look and leaned closer. “I’ll topple you from your perch.” He strode to his defeated team, his black cloud billowing behind like an opera cloak.

She closed her eyes as the pressure built in her head, threatening to drag her into unconsciousness. She swayed on her heels when a strong arm wrapped around her waist.

“Easy baby, I’ve got you.”

Pain swirled from her body like water down a drain as his warmth enveloped her. She drew a deep relieved breath, as the darkness scampered away, and she could think again.

Opening her eyes, she found Mr. Bump & Grind staring at her. He stood inches from her, acting like her own personal shield. His large body blocked out all stimuli as effectively as a concrete wall. The thought of walls made her nipples tightened at the memory of him pinning her to one, and the most intense orgasm she ever experienced.

Snippets of information struggled to coalesce in her mind.

“You’re not just a bartender.”

His full lips quirked. “No. It’s the façade, not the full job description.”

Another breath. Questions cascaded through her brain, and then one became more insistent.
Shit, Mandy.
 

“We’ll take her somewhere safe,” he answered her unspoken concern.

Behind him, the large bouncer from the club took Mandy’s hand and gently tucked it into the crook of his arm, protecting her with his body as they walked past Matthews and his henchmen. Gentle Mandy, normally so scared of large men, went with him willingly, even giving a bright wave to JJ as she stepped through the double doors.

“Styx told her you sent him, to look out for her.”

Her gaze flicked from the diminutive woman to the rock face in front of her. “She needs protecting from Matthews.”

Slate eyes met hers. “You both do. Mandy we’ll take out of the city. I suspect you’ll be a trickier proposition.”

“I can handle Matthews.” Her teeth worried at her bottom lip.

“Not alone you’re not. We can help you take him down.”

Set free of the constant pain, her brain refused to shut up and rattled an endless list of questions. “What are you? Mob?”

“Clan.”

Which means old-fashioned mob.
Her gut was right, again. She needed time to think and plan. But if he knew Matthews was dirty, what did that make him? What had she stumbled into the middle of? Some sort of turf war?

She peered into his amused eyes. “Who are you?”

“Jacob Deacon. Your new best friend. Noticed anything yet?” The grin turned mischievous.

JJ amassed problems all on her own; she didn’t need Jacob Deacon and his brand of rough trouble. She narrowed her eyes, looking at him again. Most days were like watching a 3D movie without the glasses. People were smeared across her vision with an array of colors that dribbled after them, trying to catch up. Everybody had a blurred edge, the difference mere degrees. Some were only slightly off, others trailed oil slicks behind that polluted everybody they passed, like Matthews.