Praise for Regan Black
Justice Incarnate
"Move over Lara Croft -- Jaden Michaels is the quintessential heroine of the twenty-first century, full of heart and totally lethal! Get ready because Justice Incarnate is one thrilling ride!" ~Bestselling suspense author Debra Webb
"This was a fantastically wonderful story. Ms. Black brought her intricate world and the characters to believable life and spun a tale of cliff hanging suspense. I could not put it down. It is well worth another read." --5/5 cups from Coffee Time Romance
Invasion of Justice
"A perfect blend of mystery, paranormal, and suspense to create a pleasure of a reading experience." -- 5/5 angels from Fallen Angles Reviews on the Shadows of Justice series
"Smart, suspenseful, and sexy!" 5/5 stars from Lisa Phillips
Veil of Justice
"Readers will relish this terrific tale that stands alone; as the Shadows of Justice series is one of the best futuristic urban fantasies on the market today." --5/5 stars, from Harriet Klausner
"Veil of Justice was a great mystery-suspense thriller." --Sue L.
Tracking Shadows
"Tracking Shadows is a smart, sexy, and dangerous read that you won’t be able to put down!" -- Crystal <3
"All the elements readers have come to expect from a 2096 novel– a kick-butt alpha female lead, an equally strong hero, and a gritty, fast-paced thriller."
Justice Incarnate
Shadows of Justice Book One
Regan Black
Published by Getaway Reads, LLC
Copyright 2010 Regan Black
Cover art by Karl Warren
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the express written permission from the author.
Dedication:
I'm blessed and grateful for every person God put in my path at just the right time to bring my dreams to life. Thanks to you all for the encouraging words and limitless belief. And to the hero of my heart, my Mark: for every time you picked me up, dusted me off, and convoluted my plot plans - I couldn't have done it without you!
Chapter One
"There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root."
–Henry David Thoreau
Chicago: 2096
Jaden Michaels splashed the last of her best Merlot into the only clean glass in the kitchen. Presentation didn't matter when a woman only needed to rinse the taste of a poor lover from her lips.
And poor he'd been. She'd almost been able to catch up on her sleep as he bounced rhythmically. But the indulgence would've cost her a source of invaluable information.
Bouncy-boy reported to another in the criminal food chain, this one with enough clout to bring her closer to her target.
She swirled the wine in the glass and her mind flashed with timeless, bloody memories. She tossed it back and imagined the day when she could rest. She prayed this life would break the cycle.
The wine at last relieved her of the stale taste of her informant. He needed advice in the sex department, but Jaden wouldn't waste her time. She'd probably serve him better by teaching him to defend himself against the wrath of dissatisfied women. On the off chance one of them would care.
She stripped the sheets from her bed, unwilling to sleep amidst the smells of a sweaty bar fly. Cocooning herself into a clean blanket she closed her eyes, willing her elusive quarry to behave himself tonight.
Then the crying began. The frightened, jittery tears of an innocent child pushed into a new world of horrors. Naturally, he couldn't be less than the demon he was.
The bastard.
Jaden had tried for years to tune out the echoes of pain and terror that sounded in her mind each time he struck. She'd even grown cold enough to sleep through the attacks occasionally, if the new victim happened to be too shocked to do more than whimper. But she knew anyway.
Her body harbored the same residual grief in the morning. It's what fueled her to keep slugging her way through the bottom dwellers, the middlemen, the lieutenants and bodyguards until she could take the head off the beast–permanently.
The cries escalated as the current victim panicked. "No sleep tonight."
She rolled from bed and crossed her apartment to work off her useless fury.
This unbreakable connection between the demonic entity living as the Honorable Stewart Albertson and her would only cease when he did. And he wouldn't cease his perverse brand of torture without her help. Her violent, fatal brand of help.
Jaden punctuated each thought with a kick or punch into the bag. Not a fan of the technical marvel of today's electronic sparring partners, she kept an antique, sand-filled bag of 120 kilos. She liked the challenge it gave her body, the technology would've spoiled her. Besides, if she needed a sparring partner, she could just hit the streets.
She lunged into an uppercut, sending the bag swinging. Then the girl shrieked and Jaden froze. But the bag finished its arc and knocked her to the floor.
"Damn you," she hissed, rubbing her head where the weighted canvas connected. "You'll pay for this Albertson. The moment I find you, this time you'll pay with your soul."
Wasn't that the same thing she'd been vowing for centuries? To make him pay for all the evil he'd committed against her and countless others. The same evil she'd failed to dispatch for all these centuries.
In every life she'd come up against him. Never really knowing him until it was too late. Until she was the girl screaming for mercy. Until she was the woman too terrified to whisper. Until in the lacy light of predawn she recognized an ageless predator; recognized her greater purpose and vowed to expose him. To exact justice.
"For all the good that's done."
Here she sat, a martial artist bested by a sandbag, while he continued to wreak havoc on innocence and purity. Nearby, if the volume in her head was any indicator.
She'd searched the neighboring warehouses and failed to find his current house of horrors. She knew his home address. She'd snuck into his chambers at the courthouse more than once. She'd even had opportunity to cut him down, but had hesitated.
"Coward."
Jaden stood, knowing the lie for what it was. Frustration and fatigue. Moving her body through a soothing yoga routine she reviewed the facts.
Her hesitation had not stemmed from cowardice. Sure, an armed deputy had accompanied him, but death wasn't a scary unknown to her. She'd aborted her rash attack at the sight of his daughter. How much should one child suffer?
"Dunno? How much?"
Jaden whirled, furious that she'd spoken aloud, more so that she hadn't heard the 'friendly' intruder.
"Cleveland." Her heart slowed at the sight of the pale, narrow face. "How'd you get in here?"
"I used the key you gave me."
"I didn't give you a key," Jaden said, glaring at her not-so-reformed burglar friend.
"Does it really matter? I'd never rip from you, kid."
"Thanks. I think."
His bark of laughter made her jump.
"So how much should one child suffer? And why do we wanna know?"
Jaden ground her teeth. "Children shouldn't suffer at all." Innocence should be guarded, especially in this wide-open, free-for-all time.
Cleveland gave her a wide berth as he walked through the kitchen toward the wall with a fire escape to the alley. "A little late for that, don't ya think?" He jerked his thumb to indicate all the societal injustices within easy view.
"Whatever. It's late, what d'you want?"
"Got a live one here, Jade."
She shrugged and filled a glass with water, trying not to notice the murky color. She'd lived how many lives? A little pollution wouldn't hurt. Not much anyway.
"C'mon, babe. Show a little interest?"
She swallowed.
"Fine. Spoil my fun. But he's got cold cash and a bunch of frightened mules."
She shrugged.
"Female mules."
Cleveland knew just what button to push. Regardless of the Common Era's perceptions, Jaden acted from a view of right and wrong molded by centuries of experience. Anyone less fortunate deserved her help, but especially the female side of a population. She'd witnessed countless sacrifices made by women determined to survive and protect the next generation.
This era 'juiced' its men with a human growth hormone cocktail for war's sake and women from all walks of life suffered from the physical iniquity. Jaden gave her time and expertise in an effort to balance the scales.
Employing the combat conditioning she'd originally learned at the turn of the twenty-first century, she taught women how to protect themselves regardless of physical differentials.
"What are they afraid of?"
Cleveland barked another laugh. "Him, probably." He walked over and tucked the business card into the strap of her tank top. "Nah, more like the rivals. Someone's making a move and all the little people are worrying."
"Like that'd help."
"Look, if you want more money to stuff your mattress, make the call."
Cleveland left as quietly as he'd come, only this time via the fire escape.
Jaden shook her head. She wanted more money all right. But not to squirrel away. She wanted money to fund her research into the perfect weapon to dispatch one particular evil entity. And paying the rent on time wouldn't hurt, either.
After the interruption, Jaden tried to meditate to clear the girl's pain from her psyche. Successful at last, but unwilling to risk sleep, she resumed her Internet search for legendary weapons.
Swords, axes, stars, and blades of every metal and configuration. Guns small and large, silver bullets valued only because of an early author's imagination. Rare and common poisons delivered in a variety of ways.
She sighed. The piece she needed had to be somewhere.
Scrolling through the sludge of information she already knew, a surprising teaser popped up. It advertised a new acquisition on display at the Museum of Natural History.
A bitter laugh spilled from her.
She was on display. Or rather, one of the earlier versions of her. A distinct shiver ran down her spine as she faced her past.
This woman's rare brand of true compassion during the Victorian era hid an alternate personality, not unlike Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Though it would seem from her diary that this fair lady sought to avenge wrongs rather than wreak havoc...
Naturally the article continued, for a modest fee, or interested parties could visit the exhibit in person. Jaden didn't need to read on. She knew the darkest of the details intimately. But a personal visit...well, that could be worthwhile. Especially knowing she wasn't the only Chicago resident familiar with the true motives of the long-dead woman on display.
Donning her black catsuit and a cloak to guard against the night chill, Jaden strapped on matched daggers at wrist and ankle. Securing the electronic code-breaking card at the small of her back she felt ready to face the jungle of the street.
She'd had ample time to wonder precisely when her perpetual opponent gained his past life memories. At the moment of attacking her? Or at the moment she struck him down?
In this most recent incarnation, her increased sensitivity forced her to consider that his skills might be changing too.
The new and improved elevated train rumbled along above her, but she preferred the street for moods and tasks like hers tonight. And she'd never quite trusted the el, having seen it constructed all those years ago. Jaden stumbled as the flash of old memories veiled her current reality.
"Watch it witch," a raspy voice threatened from the gutter.
Close enough, she thought, in both his advice and labels as she walked on.
"You need an escort."
She ignored the bogus offer, focused on her destination and purpose.
"Wasn't a question," the street rat persisted, falling into step beside her and earning Jaden's full attention.
She knew she could take him, or any other challengers. But something in his stance, his eyes, made her wary on another level. A flash of familiar came and went. A closer look only showed he wasn't stoned and the normal haze of scorn for a stranger was absent.
"I'm good. Just passing through."
"There's a price for that."
She knew all too well there was a price for everything. Just stepping outside could cost anything from a cell card to a life these days.
She turned to face him. "And you're the collector?"
He shrugged and sneered. "Seems like."
"So state your fee or get outta my way." She wanted that diary before her cursed nemesis destroyed it.
"In a hurry, pretty girl? Hmmm." He eyed her lazily. "Guess I should tag along and take my cut from whatever you want so bad you'll risk the street to get it."
She thought of killing him.
One sweep of hand to throat and he'd be gurgling in the gutter where no one would give half a damn when they found him in the morning.
She thought of using him.
A bold, sober, and not entirely stupid man might be helpful tonight. Quickly she rearranged her original break-in plan.
"If you can keep up, you can claim one item."
"Oh, baby, how can I refuse?"
He ran a grimy finger over her shoulder and she squashed the urge to break his arm, instead resuming her course. He'd soon learn she wasn't on the list of his possible 'rewards'.
As they approached the museum, her companion earned an ounce of Jaden's respect. He was smart enough to keep quiet. But when his steps slowed, putting him directly behind her, she spun around and instinctively dropped into a defensive crouch.
"Ease up, baby." He raised his hands slowly. "I'm just looking for the easy way in."
Jaden stood up, impatient with every moment of delay. "This is my game. You're only along for the ride."
"Don't I know it." He leered at her breasts. "But–"
"Nothing," she finished for him. "I'll get you in, and out if you're quick about your decisions."
"I've decided." He stepped closer and reached for her.
She whipped her foot out, connecting with the inside of his knee. Following him to the ground, she muffled his pained cry with her hand on his mouth and her knee on his chest.
"I pulled that kick. You're not permanently damaged." His eyes grew wide and wild. She tried not to enjoy his panic. "I have business here. I'll open the door. You walk in, choose your piece and get out. We'll have three minutes. If you're not out before me, you'll be on trial by eight and in jail by noon."
At least some things improved with time. The courts and prisons were still over-crowded, but this society dealt with 'Clear Crimes' swiftly. Cops processed evidence in real time, on scene. Finding this street rat in the museum would be enough for an instant conviction and thirty days of behavior modification injections.
"You afraid of needles?"
He shook his head.
"You will be." She hauled him to his feet, granting him a moment to find his balance. "Three minutes."
Following the shadows around the loading docks, Jaden readied her code breaker. She waved the card in front of the scanner and waited.
Infinitely.
Yet another minute ticked by, giving her ample time to cross this particular 'hack-rabbit' off her good list. If his codes were old, or worse, compromised, she'd be hard pressed to avoid a month of needles herself.
If she lived through dispatching her enemy this time, she just might champion prisoner rights and the call to do away with the cruel needles. There were better delivery options...
The lock clicked, whirred and the door slid back on hushed tracks, putting the prized possessions of history at her fingertips.
And gimpy boy's too.
She cringed, inwardly, hoping he was in too much pain to take anything priceless. She disabled the remaining alarm systems to prevent any surprises from security.
"Better hustle," she advised, dashing off on her own.
Her cape billowing behind her, Jaden loped through the various galleries to the nearest marble stairwell, taking the steps two at a time.
Exercising restraint, she stayed her course despite the siren's call of the Medieval Weapons and Armament gallery. She could always return as an ordinary citizen during standard business hours and pore over each curator's note and battle-scarred blade. Again.
She rounded a corner and praised heaven to see the diary still in place. The dress and trunk, which bore a previous life's initials, didn't warrant more than a fleeting glance. She needed the book. It might hold clues that could save her months of research. And every day saved meant another girl spared.
"Now that's worth my while."
Startled from her private hell, Jaden turned to see her unwelcome companion eyeing a case of jewelry. He could have it. It hadn't done her any good then and she had no need of it now.
"One piece," she reminded him, using a dagger to pry open the diary's case. "Clock's ticking." She smiled at gimpy boy's dread and ran for her freedom.
And her cause.
She paused at the security panel only long enough to reset the alarm systems. Rubber soles squeaked on the marble floor somewhere inside, but she had other business. Outside, she took her first real breath and then made the call.
* * *
"I'm certified in a dozen different self-defense methods," the woman stated.
"I only need one," the man replied in bored tones.
"Which is?" she asked.
"The most lethal. Turn."
The conversation went static for two seconds before the detective listening to the wireless tap found it again.
"Uh-huh." She paused. "Hand-to-hand or weapons?"
"Hands only. If I arm 'em, they'll turn."
The detective noted date, time, and frequencies and began speculating on the woman's identity. He signaled his partner to pick up the second headset. They both listened.
"When and where?" the woman asked.
"My place. Late."
"Fine. You'll see me when the money's clear. Turn."
The connection fizzled. The detective scrambled, but lost the continuing conversation.
"Damn. That's it?"
Larry Ferguson was more hopeful than his sour-stomached partner. "It's more than we've had on Slick Micky before."
"Ain't enough," Chuck Loomis groused.
"Let's run it for the DA and see what he thinks." Larry ignored the doom and gloom of his partner and did what he could to buff the recording. If he could find a single locator clue, the DA would jump on it. Better, if he nailed the woman's ID the DA would write the reference Larry needed to get promoted out of this sorry detail.
"Hey, Chuck. Check out this short list of female self defense instructors."
Chuck swiveled around, scanned the list and grunted. Larry hadn't expected anything more. "It's a code, is all."
"I don't think so. She–"
"She knew when and how to change channels. They got outta your reach fast enough. It's just a new code."
"Maybe."
"Larry, you're a good kid, but let me dash your hopes right now. These days ya got a better chance marrying the chief's daughter than moving up and outta this tin can. Now put the ears back on and find us a real crime we can prevent."
Larry ignored the barb about the youngest bachelor chief in Chicago history and resumed his work. "Hot damn!" Larry caught Chuck's dismissive headshake. But Chuck couldn't hear the alarms wailing down at the Museum of Natural History. With a few keystrokes, Larry accessed the security cameras onsite. "Put it in gear, Chuck. I found you a crime scene."
"Yee haw." Chuck yawned as he settled his over-regulation bulk into the driver's seat.
Larry tracked the burglar's progress from gallery to gallery while listening to the chatter of the robotic security drones in pursuit. "He's hurt, Chuck. This collar'll be a breeze."
"Don't count your chickens, kid."
"What the hell's that mean?"
"It's some farm thing my granddad said."
"You've seen a family farm? You are an old-timer."
"Aw, shut up. Where do we pick up this thief?"
"He's made a cut for the northeast exit."
"Where's security?"
"I'll clue 'em in," Larry said while Chuck grumbled about the perils of technology.
He disagreed with Chuck's hardened view of society in general and their job in particular. But his partner had a point about the flaws of the new totally robotic security systems. Twentieth century sci-fi had inspired inventors, but the same stories messed with the lackluster vision of legislators, leaving no loopholes to create a thinking machine.
"You'd think the Museum of Natural History would leave a couple humans in the place."
Larry ignored his peevish partner and continued to ready the evidence kit.
* * *
Jaden saw the mottled gray police unit barreling down the street and sighed. If she let the street rat take the fall for her burglary, she'd have joined the ranks of the despicable thing she hunted. As she organized her explanation to enable his escape a bright flash came from the Museum side of the street.
Instinct had her tucked and rolling out of danger as the driver of the evidence van fought for control with a laser-melted front tire.
How in the hell did a smart aleck street rat land a police-issue pursuit-stopping device?
When the raucous scrape of metal on asphalt ceased, she came to her feet and stared at the van. It lay on its side with black clouds of electrical smoke rising from the rear. Watching the driver stumble from the wreck, she turned for home. But when his agonized bellow carried above the screeching of the alarms, Jaden felt the pull of the driver's desperation.
Mindful of the diary, she approached. Keeping her hands visible, she moved with caution born of several hard lessons. The cop looked as hopeless as a drowning victim. She didn't intend to let him drag her under.
He ranted and wrestled with the crumpled door, too busy to worry about her.
Jaden didn't need cohesive conversation to understand there was another man trapped inside. Evidence processing equipment was expensive, but not priceless. It gave her weary spirit a lift to see how frantic one man could be to save another.
Leaving him to his battle, she put her dagger to work on the hinges of the door. Between adrenaline and training, the door gave way and the cop outside pulled the inside man clear of the burning van.
Familiar enough with death, Jaden knew they were too late, and she wished for tears enough to weep over the loss. One bold street rat bent on escape just cost a man's life.
Everything has a price.
The echoing words taunted her. Then she recognized the dead man. "Larry," she gasped.
The surviving partner heard and turned on her. "What do you know about him? About this?"
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her while she tried to recall his name. Chad, Charlie, no–
"Chuck. Chuck, ease up buddy," she said through rattling teeth.
"Who the hell are you?" Chuck demanded.
"Jaden Michaels–"
"The security specialist? This was some miserable test run?"
She wouldn't take the easy way out–couldn't. Not with Larry's blood staining the street. "No, no test. It must've been a real call."
"And you just magically appear during a real call? This was some damned department party. Well I hope they're slaphappy about it. I'm a man short and he was a good one. He had a future."
His fingers bit into her shoulders, taking her body back to another man, a different sort of attack. In a blur, she broke his hold and caught herself before she landed the follow-through punch.
"Take a step back, Chuck. You're upset. When you see the download, you'll feel better." It pained her to lay blame on Larry, but she offered the most likely scenario. "If Larry wasn't buttoned down, it's no one's fault."
Chuck's face reddened and she saw his pulse accelerate in the jump of a blood vessel in his temple. "I know what a lasered tire feels like. And I know how and where to look for evidence, Michaels. Get the hell outta my face before I do something real stupid."
The adrenaline made her itch for the fight he offered. But pushing her luck here and now put the diary at risk and muddied her true path. She left the messy scene in Chuck's capable hands and replayed the events in her mind.
She hoped the street rat made the best of his good fortune. She'd count her blessings to never cross paths with him again.
The ache began as a slow burn in her stomach and climbed painfully toward her heart with every step away from the collateral damage. She knew her normal cool detachment would eventually return, but prayed it would hurry.
She could've spared the street rat a month of prickly injections by providing a cover story, especially with Larry on the case. Hell, she never should've let the street rat into the museum at all. She'd been around often enough to have developed better judgment.
"Ah, don't beat yourself up."
She gasped. "Quit sneaking up on me, Cleveland."
"Pay more attention," he countered.
"I've paid enough as it is." Jaden made a valiant effort to control her sorry mood. "How'd you find me?"
"Anyone with a scanner could find you, girl."
She knew she paled because Cleveland reached out to steady her. She brushed aside the assistance.
"I meant anyone who knows you and has a scanner."
"Funny." No one really knew her. "What do you want?"
"I'm your escort to your next appointment."
"My next appointment's with my pillow."
"Tempting as that image is," he said, wiggling his brows. "You've got a class first."
"How'd you know anything about that?"
He swung an arm over her shoulder and guided her around a corner away from her own place. "I'm the only trusted soul on the street, my fair Jaden."
"You've been watching the history channel again."
"Nope. But I've been through a museum or two lately. You should go. Get you some culture," he teased.
She glared at him.
"Ouch girl, don't give me the hairy eyeball just 'cuz you screwed up."
She glared more, but at the ground this time. "He wasn't strapped in. Couldn't've been." Completely unlike the Larry she'd worked with for years. "Follow protocol or die, I always say."
"Protocol!" Cleveland laughed. "Keep it up and some day you might convince me you're just that harsh."
He opened his arms and she stepped into his embrace, taking this one moment to grieve the unnecessary loss. She backed away, automatically checking for the diary and daggers. True to his word, Cleveland hadn't ripped her off.
"Told you I wouldn't," he said.
She smiled, feeling better. "Guess there's good reason you're the only trusted soul on the street."
"Yup." He grinned. "You live above it."
She shrugged off the odd compliment. "Whatever. Let's get this gig over. I've got things to do. Like sleep. If you're the escort, show me proof of the transfer."
He pulled the slim black remote from his inside pocket. The monitor showed the agreed amount ready to transfer to the account of her choosing. She made Cleveland turn away and shielded the keypad with her free hand as she punched in her codes.
"Done," she said, handing the remote back to him. "Lead on, oh trusted one."
He replaced the remote and wrapped her hand around his arm, a chivalrous move she hadn't seen in ages. "Such lovely company in the past. Wouldn't you agree?"
She made herself chuckle. She hoped the past would be her friend and provide the answer to get her soul 'unstuck'. She was tired of battle and desperate to break the cycle. She couldn't fail to banish the evil this time. She wasn't sure she had the strength to live again.
Chapter Two
Time stamp: 1884:
My research has uncovered an intriguing reference during the Norman Conquest of 1066. Though I care little if William created the feudal system or simply reorganized the establishment, the interspersed tales of a particularly evil land baron were extraordinary.
Claims of his prowess on the battlefield pale against his depraved preference for young girls. It was much too familiar, an almost verbatim accounting of my most disturbing dreams. As was the subsequent telling of his gruesome death at the hands of a woman I assume to be one of his victims.
–From the diary of Gabriella Stamford
Chicago: 2096
Jaden battled exhaustion with a cold soda infused with an excessive level of caffeine. Thank God for the humanitarians industrious enough to buck the current government health department. The relatively new bureaucracy took obscene delight in regulating everything from alcohol and fat to nicotine and sugar.
She supposed she should be grateful. More regulations led to more contraband. For a woman working both sides of the line, it meant more profit to use for her own method of sheltering the population.
She took a hard look at the group of mules practicing each move with a desperation born of fear. All women, though size, shape and age varied. They obviously respected and feared Slick Micky, the man who'd hired her too, but she didn't think he was the source of the anxiety shivering in each pair of eyes.
"Wait. I know the urge is to pull away." She stepped between two students. "But you must lean in closer or the move will be ineffective." She demonstrated the escape again, in slow motion, until both nodded. "Try again."
This time the smaller woman got it right, evading her larger partner and jumping with elation. "I did it!"
Jaden smiled and moved on to the next cluster of students.
Slick Micky waited until she finished to pull her aside. "Will they remember this on the street?" he muttered.
"They should, with practice."
"Of course you'll want to lead those practices."
"I can, if you'd like."
"I can't lose too many nights of work for this. Or there won't be cash to pay you."
His frustration came through clear enough, but Jaden struggled with how much to advise the known criminal. "I'm not all about money. What's their cargo?"
Micky's eyes narrowed, then relaxed. "I don't mess with hard stuff. If my mules do, they're out. I have standards."
Don't we all, she thought, then spoke to advise another sparring pair.
"They are catching on," Micky said with grudging satisfaction.
Jaden only waited.
"Sugar, nicotine and caffeine." He raised his palm as if taking an oath. "That's it."
She wanted to laugh. One of the most renowned criminals on the street ran the lightest of contraband. "Not even the better alcohol?"
"You're surprised."
"Yes. But why interfere with those runs? Even the government looks the other way on sugar and caffeine most of the time."
"The government's not the problem."
"Someone wants your routes?"
He shook his head. "I thought so at first."
They finished the circuit of the room and Jaden interrupted the conversation to finish the class with a brief stretching series to prevent sore muscles. Then she left them with a word of encouragement before Micky stepped up to give his orders.
She edged toward the door, ready to head back to her own warehouse several blocks closer to the edge of respectability. At least she'd managed to improve the décor beyond the bare bulbs and cold cement floors of Micky's distribution hub.
"Hang on a minute."
Jaden wanted to refuse, but the caffeine had kicked in and sleep wouldn't be an option for at least another hour. "Yeah?"
Micky jerked his head toward his office and Jaden obliged.
When the door closed he faced her across a desk scarred and stained from cigarette burns.
"It's not the routes. Well, not entirely."
She considered him. "Then what. Entirely?"
"It's the girls."
Her opinion of Slick Micky dropped considerably with those three words.
"Just what else are you running?" She didn't care about accusing tones or causing personal offense. She would not allow any abuse to continue.
"I told you what I run. Someone else is picking off my runners. Sometimes the cargo too, but that's rare."
After careful study, she believed him. "How many girls have you lost?"
"Four last month. And two more just last week."
Okay, the man did have a problem. And just how deep she'd get dragged into it was hers. "Why tell me?"
"Cleveland says you might have a vested interest."
She arched a brow and crossed her arms. What did Cleveland know about her hunt for the esteemed Judge Stewart Albertson?
"One girl escaped."
"Good for her."
"After she saw the man giving the orders."
Jaden felt her heart skip, knew the flush on her cheeks gave away her curiosity. She felt herself leaning in, eager for the information, praying it was the break she needed. "And?"
"She says he's too big for me. Won't talk unless I promise to drop it. Cleveland says you'd get it outta her."
"Interrogation's not my specialty." She turned to walk out. She didn't have time, energy or inclination to be used for anyone's vengeance but her own.
"Maybe not. But I hear Judge Albertson's your hobby."
Her hand froze, an inch off the doorknob. "Gossip's cheap."
"And truth's free," he shot back. "My girls know my reach. I'm up against someone well funded and very well connected. My rep's been enough to keep my cargo and routes safe for years. No one else would scare her this bad."
Jaden doubted that. There were plenty of scary people on and off the street. "Why blame a pillar of the community?"
Micky laughed, heartless and cold. "Pillar, my ass. Down here we all know how it plays. Maybe the fancy suits and big verdicts fool your kinda–"
"Watch it, Slick."
He raised a hand in surrender. "Talk to her. Just cuz he's too smooth to get jail time doesn't mean he's not at the top of the food chain."
Jaden nodded. He was preaching to the choir. "Show me the girl." She'd recognize Albertson's personal handiwork. If the girl bore his mark, she might consider the rest of her information.
She followed Micky through a hidden door in the back wall of his office and accepted the weight of his trust as it settled on her shoulders. The dim lighting near the floor revealed a narrow hallway and the echo of their steps told her the ceiling was a long, long way up.
Micky disappeared suddenly, until Jaden reached the intersection and saw him on her left, stopped in front of a plain metal door. This hall was broader, though no better lit, and reminded her of an old hotel. So the expert smuggler had more than a few secrets himself. Not the least of which was that he seemed genuine about the care he gave his mules.
The door opened a mere crack after Micky's second knock, and nearly snapped shut before his foot stopped it.
"I brought a visitor, honey," he said in surprisingly gentle tones. "She can help."
A strangled sound came from the dark room, either doubt or quiet hysteria, but certainly not confidence.
Micky signaled Jaden closer. "She just taught the family some self-defense moves. You can trust her."
"She'll only tell you and you'll go get yourself killed. Without you, we're all gutter food. I'm not worth all that."
Jaden willed herself to breathe. She'd heard that voice. Before it had become the dead and dispassionate version it was tonight. She didn't need to see the mark to know this girl had been in Albertson's clutches.
"Look." Jaden turned slightly and peeled back the flap of false skin behind her right ear. When she heard the sharp inhale, she knew the girl could see the vile, infinity-shaped scar from her own encounter with Albertson twenty years ago. She pressed the patch back into place and resisted the urge to roll her freshly tensed shoulders. This girl could be the break. The one witness to blow Albertson straight into hell.
The girl widened the opening and Jaden took a twitchy step inside, wishing she'd forgone the mega dose of caffeine, and shut the door in Micky's face.
* * *
Chief Brian Thomas sat in his office with his right foot propped on his desk and an ice pack on his swollen knee. He'd ditched the contacts and scruffy jacket. Phone card clipped to his pocket, he toyed with his 'prize' while his mentor's affable voice filled his ear.
"Tell me again why I shouldn't have my men out looking for this thief?" Thomas asked.
"Because you're doing me a favor," Albertson said. "The item she stole is of no consequence. What'd she look like?"
"The ghost of Christmas future."
"Beg pardon?"
Thomas moved, then gritted his teeth when his knee complained. "All black. Head to toe. With a cape." He didn't even know her hair color and her eyes had been shadowed as well. Of course she could've disguised her features as he had.
"Ah, yes. The proverbial Bat Girl."
Thomas laughed. "Maybe. The evidence crew lost a man during the response. My men will want to see justice done."
"I'm sorry to hear that. But she won't get away with it."
Thomas caught himself caressing the necklace he'd hastily removed from the display. It took more effort than it should have to lay it down. When he did, his hands felt empty, his chest hollow.
Weird.
"Brian?"
"Yeah, sorry. I'm tired."
"I understand. These are odd hours you're keeping on my behalf. If the media should find this story, let them know you think the crime is of a personal bent."
"So you've got yourself a stalker." Thomas gave a low wolf whistle. "Sure you don't want a team on you?"
"Absolutely not."
Thomas blinked, startled by the vehement reply. "Too bad. She looked professional."
"But what sort of profession?"
Thomas fought back an instinctive defense of the thief, but Albertson's hearty belly laugh sounded first. When he caught his breath the judge said, "She can't touch me."
"If you say so," Thomas replied. His hands were back on the cool gold surrounding the fiery opal of the antique necklace. The filigreed heart-shaped setting would've drawn much attention to the cleavage of the young lady wearing it. "Anything else?"
"No. You've done well and I thank you."
The judge disconnected before Thomas could ask anything else. It seemed he'd have to wait for more answers about the threat this burglar posed. Not unusual, but still irritating.
His desktop monitor lit up with an incoming call. Then another. The primary questions of both callers filled the text fields while pictures of impatient reporters popped up above the words.
The media had found the story all right. With a reluctant touch, he slid the necklace into the lockbox in his desk, and then prepared to enter the gauntlet of question and answer.
The burly man storming into his office stopped him.
"Chuck, have a seat."
"I'll stand." He tossed his silver shield at Thomas. "I won't spend another minute in the hell-hole you've got here."
Deliberate, precise motions moved the ice pack and brought Thomas to his feet. "You'll control yourself and follow orders."
"I won't take orders from a man who'd sacrifice his own."
"You've crossed a line here, Loomis."
"That's the pot callin' the kettle black, I'd say."
Thomas shook his head and then recalled the antiquated saying. "What's set you off?"
Chuck tapped a thick index finger on the desk. "Tonight's little exercise crossed the line, Chief." He sneered at the title. "Wait'll the boys hear Larry died in the name of a lousy test run. Neither you or the city'll survive the Blue Flu."
"Test run? Flu?" Baffled, Thomas dropped back into his chair. "Start over. And use English this time."
"I saw the Michaels woman." Chuck bit out each word. "She's tested response times and codes and the like before."
And suddenly it clicked. The mystery thief was 'the Michaels woman'. Jaden Michaels, a security specialist with a tendency to favor the underdog. She had some sort of girl-power school in town and did some freelance with the police force occasionally, but they'd never met in person.
"Chuck," he applied his calm buddy tone. "We weren't running tests tonight. If you got a call–it was real."
He glared at Thomas. "So real the museum says nothin's gone."
Thomas sat up straight, ignoring the jab of pain climbing his leg when his foot hit the floor. "Nothing?"
"Nope. They just spewed nonsense about false alarms and sent me on my merry way." He swiped that beefy hand over his face and cleared his throat. Twice. "After they took away...the body...I looked around for the laser gun. It wasn't on her, but I'll be damned if I know where she ditched it. Larry'd been trying to link a call we were tracing with the museum break in. When the laser flashed I dodged but it caught the tire. Now how'd she get a hold of that except from someone skimmin' from us?"
Thomas understood every layer of Chuck's agony. "I'll look into it. Personally." Won't have to look far. "I've already seen the video. Larry bounced out of the seat. He just wasn't buttoned down when the vehicle rolled. An unfortunate accident, that's all."
"Bull." Chuck upended an evidence bag and a charred buckle and webbing clattered onto the desk. The bitter smell of burnt flesh and fried circuits hung in the air between them.
Thomas pressed his fingers to his temples in an attempt to stop the relentless pounding. He didn't need to deal with equipment failure, even if it would soothe his conscience.
"Go home. Get some rest. And keep the badge." Chuck nodded, and then just stared down at him like a lost puppy. "Take tomorrow off, Chuck. I'll handle Michaels."
"Yessir." At the door, Chuck paused. "Check the tapes. Larry's last entries should lead you right to her."
"Got it," Thomas said and dismissed the grieving officer.
What the hell was going on?
He had a judge who didn't care about a display he'd personally funded, a museum denying all trouble, a good cop dead, a security specialist posing as a thief, a chat room buzzing with reporters, a bum knee and the devil's own headache.
"Lord love a duck," he groaned and washed a couple of painkillers down with a hefty gulp of antacid.
* * *
Jaden woke a half hour before the day's first class. Her body ached from last night's scuffle at the museum and the impromptu class for Micky. She looked forward to working out the kinks in warm-up. She programmed the shower for high efficiency and tried not to remember a past life when she'd indulged in long hot soaks in a massive marble tub. Having a wealth of diverse experiences in the subconscious wasn't always a gift.
She loathed having to wait another whole day to dig into the diary and fit together the girl's account from last night, but she wouldn't put off the women who sought her instruction. The classes filled a void for her and her students. Whether simply providing fitness and a confidence boost or a life saving tool, she made sure everyone got her money's worth.
"Aren't you the picture of perfection," Cleveland said, walking through the studio door in time to join her for lunch.
She blotted her sweaty face with a towel. "Your timing's suspect."
"No way. I brought food."
She eyed the white sacks, smelled the heady aroma of marinara sauce and sighed. "We feast while some poor child goes hungry."
He laughed and began filling the plates she'd handed him. "The kid two blocks over is fine. I bought for him too."
"Who? Quinn?" She grabbed two bottles of water, tossed the towel in the direction of the workout room and sat down to the nearest full plate. "Cool. He doesn't get the first shot at a hot meal very often."
"I don't know." Cleveland pinned her with a look. "He mentioned something about two days running."
Jaden felt color creep up her neck, but refused comment. "Why're you here?" she asked around a mouthful of fettuccine.
"I worry," he said.
"Bad for your health. I'm a big girl."
"Lookin' to chew on a bigger bone."
She stopped eating. Could Cleveland be like her? Another soul reliving life until he got it right. "Just what do you think you know?"
"Enough to point you in the right direction. Last night paid off, right?"
"Financially." She weighed the risks and went for it. "Other areas, I'm not so sure. Met a girl marked up recently."
"Dead or alive?"
"Depends on your definition."
Judging by the haunted eyes and hollow voice, she'd have to say dead. But if life meant merely a beating heart and independent breathing, alive would be the verdict.
"So how you gonna take down the untouchable?"
"Excuse me?"
"I know what Judge Albertson's capable of."
"What makes you think I do?" Jaden tried to avoid his penetrating gaze, but she couldn't avoid the finger on his neck, tracing a faint scar behind his left ear she'd never noticed before.
"Let's say we have some things in common."
Her appetite gone, she pushed the plate aside and crossed her arms over her chest. "What gave me away?"
"Nothing," Cleveland admitted. "I just knew what to look for and where to look for it. My sister didn't make it. Killed herself halfway through counseling."
Jaden wasn't sure she could take any more victim stories right now. Or ever. Last night had been bad. The judge was escalating and she had to find a way to stop him.
Permanently.
"Look, Jaden, all I'm sayin' is, whatever you need–count me in."
"This is a solo gig, Cleveland."
"Maybe it shouldn't be." He stood and with a flippant salute, was out the door.
Unsettled, Jaden switched on the wall-mounted video panel. She left it tuned to her favorite of the myriad 24/7 news networks and caught the tail end of the police chief's press conference.
"We're investigating the cause of death. We suspect the officer will be cleared of any wrong doing and the criminals apprehended soon."
She studied the image, grabbed the remote and keyed the request for a closer camera angle. The image changed, zooming in on the chief's face.
"I'll be damned," she muttered to the air around her. The facial structure reminded her of last night's street rat, but the eyes were the wrong color.
No, she corrected. Today they were the right color. The unique, deceptively easy-going pewter gray. The color they'd been when she'd fallen in love with him. A millennium ago.
"So you have a lead?" a reporter called from off camera.
"We're working from surveillance material in the evidence vehicle, the surviving officer's testimony and other resources."
"Meaning informants?" another voice cried out.
"Meaning other resources." The chief gave a benign smile and stepped back from the podium. He turned and walked away with a pronounced limp.
"Other resources my butt," Jaden hissed at the image on screen. "Bet that's really hurting you today." She couldn't help her smug smile. But it faded as she tried to sort out why the police chief would be posing as a street rat.
She pushed it to the back of her mind and went to greet the next class. She demonstrated, they followed, she encouraged, they panted. And still at the end of class, her mind hadn't unraveled the mystery. The chief was surely in the judge's pocket, so why not arrest her when he had the chance?
Then, in the final pose of the cool down it hit her. Other resources. If Chuck tagged her with a tracking device, he could lead them straight to her. It was time to make a dive for the bottom of the societal pool until she planned her attack.
"Jaden?"
She turned to see her part-time assistant, Brenda Calhoun, threading her way through the departing class. "Hi there. You want to take the afternoon schedule?"
"Sure." Brenda wrung her hands, and then swung her arms back into a stretch. "Um, my court date's tomorrow. You asked me to remind you."
Jaden groaned inside. She couldn't dive when she had to appear as a witness for Brenda. "Thanks. I have it on my office calendar."
"I appreciate it. Your set of photos is all that's left of that night."
"What?" Jaden reeled from the shock like she'd been punched.
"The hospital records went missing."
"Who's presiding tomorrow?"
"Judge A."
"I see." Did she ever. The whole twisted picture.
Brenda's ex-boyfriend had been a bailiff in Judge Albertson's courtroom. He'd apparently served him well, if the Judge was pulling favors like this. "Awful small case for Judge A to be looking at."
"That's what my advocate-advisor said."
Jaden wanted to groan. A battered woman, not nearly recovered, with only the aid of an advocate-advisor. She didn't stand a chance against a false accusation judgment. And Albertson loved to hand those out like candy on Halloween.
"What do you need if you lose?"
Brenda paled. Jaden hated making her think about the worst-case scenario, but it was a likely outcome.
"I-I'm not sure."
In a display far too rare these days, Jaden's heart softened. She led Brenda away from the classroom to her apartment upstairs. In the kitchen she began brewing her personal blend of comforting tea.
When Brenda's hands were wrapped around a warm mug, Jaden tried to make it as painless as possible. "You have to think about it. Has he made any threats?"
"Not while the TRO's been in effect."
"Brenda, a temporary restraint is only temporary."
"I know, I know." She looked at Jaden with frightened blue eyes filled with tears. "But I like my job. Jobs," she smiled and glanced in the direction of the classroom. "I have real friends, a real life again."
"Any family who could keep an eye out for you?"
"Not in town."
"Where?" Jaden pushed. "You have to consider running. If the court rules you've accused falsely you won't have any legal support."
The tears fell and Brenda wiped at them, but it didn't stem the tide.
Uncomfortable, Jaden reached out, hoping the touch would calm Brenda. The girl needed to start thinking clearly again.
"You think I'll lose," she whispered.
"It's likely."
"But you have the pictures."
She had more, but wouldn't mention it yet. "Pictures or not, Brenda, it doesn't look good."
"Can you help?" Brenda whispered at last.
"I can testify." Regretfully, at the moment it was all she could do.
She'd gladly kill Judge Albertson with her bare hands in front of a thousand witnesses. But she'd been there and done that. Instead of a T-shirt, she'd been awarded a lethal bullet.
And had been given yet another life to try again.
"I can get you out of town. If you lose, we'll both have to disappear."
"But your school, the students." Brenda's head landed in her hands. "Oh, Jaden. I'm sorry I ever got you into this."
Jaden stood to pace, her racing mind demanding a physical outlet. "Trust me. I was hip deep before we ever met."
"What?"
"Never mind. If the case goes bad tomorrow, I'll see you safely out of town. In the meantime, teach this next class. And when you get home, pack a bag and be alert."
Brenda nodded, with a little more confidence, then headed off to follow Jaden's orders, leaving Jaden with cold tea and boiling thoughts.
Nothing she knew added up to anything she could use to eliminate the judge legally. Albertson's reach was increasing. In all the lives she'd known him, he'd never been sloppy about the people he chose to use, whether for his own perverse delight or to increase his power within a community. Which meant Chief Thomas was a vital link. Again.
"Great," she muttered to the empty kitchen. "He's even named for a doubter this time."
The control panel chimed, announcing the arrival of more students. Jaden shoved back from the table and went to make some calls. Whether or not Chief Thomas would kill her in the days to come, she first had to arrange for Brenda to survive tomorrow.
Chapter Three
"The more corrupt the state, the more numerous the laws." –Tacitus
Jaden resented the chime of midnight and her complete sleeplessness. Shoving fingers through her hair, she loosened the braid she'd woven minutes earlier.
So far, the diary revealed nothing of value. No new or vital tidbit of information she'd forgotten in the living of a dozen lives. She locked it back in her safe.
With a gusty sigh, she let herself long for the sort of rest that was impossible in her current state of existence. She ached for eternity's blissful peace.
Irritable, she strode through the kitchen and down the hall to pound her stress into the punching bag.
She could feel the Judge on the far edge of her conscious mind, and knew without doubt the outcome of Brenda's case. With no authenticated video or still shots of the damage her ex-boyfriend caused, Brenda was doomed to serve time as a false accuser.
A swift kick sent the bag out and Jaden caught it in a hard hug on the return. Her first instinct was to make contact with her one link inside the system, but Larry had died en route to a crime scene starring her as the criminal.
Correction–he'd died when the police chief posing as a street rat lasered the tire. That eased the burden a bit.
Larry believed in his oath to protect society and his fellow officers. She combined two uppercuts with a right hook and smiled as she considered the hero's homecoming Larry must be enjoying in the eternity she desperately wanted for herself.
A yellow light above the doorway diverted her attention. She held her position at the bag and waited for a follow up signal or sound. She expected a grind or hiss of a lock being tumbled or bypassed. She didn't expect footsteps on the roof, or the sound of windows shattering in her classroom downstairs.
She thought first of the diary, then the photos in her floor safe. Then her mind emptied as she prepared to defend her home, and possibly her life.
"Clear."
"Here, too." The first guttural voice was answered by an equally deep and dispassionate reply.
She waited, pressed flat against the wall, for the rest to check in. None did. Her lips curved. Her against two put the odds heavy in her favor.
She listened to the footfalls to determine the intent of the intruders. Hearing the quiet whir of her computer told her they were most likely after Brenda's pictures.
"Found it. What about you?"
Two searchers. Two targets. But was she the second target or the diary? Somehow the Judge knew what she was about, knew who she was this time. As far as she could recall, he'd never come directly after her before.
Jaden had to move before the computer revealed the diary's location.
With a rude burst every light in the place came on at full power. The man at the computer had found the master controls. Soon he'd activate the infrared to show the location of everyone in the house, blowing her element of surprise. It was a standard security system and relatively pointless. Any hack with the most basic password finder could seize control with little effort.
This was precisely why she'd personally rewritten a new code and layered it over the standard system.
With heavy footsteps beating a quick pace to her position, Jaden dropped to a crouch and ran, using the wall as a shield.
"The east side. Hidden access."
The informed shout gave her pause and made her decision easier. Changing direction, she leaped for the nearest control panel, entering her contingency code.
Jaden heard the soft hum and click as her commands took effect, but the following whistle of a passing bullet earned her full attention.
The lights snapped out, just as she'd programmed, and the cursing of the intruder at her computer told her he couldn't stop the cascade of automatic responses.
"Retire the side and let's get out of here."
The unmistakable sound of a revolver being loaded reached Jaden's ears. She knew only one enforcer still using a revolver.
"What about the package?"
"Working on it. If ya had better aim, we wouldn't need it."
In the silence she felt the signals. Signals she would use if she were the hunter. Taking the only strategic advantage left, she rolled out of the open door toward her nearest opponent and slid into his knee with a single, bone-crunching kick. His shot went high and wide.
His agonized screams ended with her merciful knock out sweep to his neck. Now armed with his weapon, an old-school automatic, she maneuvered through the darkness to find his boss.
Keyed to every nuance of sound in her home, Jaden heard the move he'd assumed to be silent. She aimed the mac-10 at her opponent, squeezed off a warning shot and gave the voice command to bring the lights up halfway.
"Stand up," she called to the intruder. "Hands high and let me see the gun."
Even in the dim light the man's polished revolver gleamed.
"Triple Threat Tony," she said, using the nickname he'd given himself years ago. "What brings you by?"
"Just business, Ms. Jaden." The revolver's business end still targeted her ceiling.
It might've sounded like any other mundane conversation, but she kept the gun trained on him. Tony would've ruled the Wild West with his talent for speed and accuracy with a firearm. She didn't dare relax.
"So, how much am I worth?"
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