Bounty Page 11

  Paul shrugged. The empty look in his eyes was the same one he had worn throughout his trial. Even on the day he was found guilty, even on the day he found out he'd been sentenced to die. Once one of Baltimore's most decorated policemen, Paul seemed to simply be done with it all. His lawyers over the years had fought tooth and nail for him, filing appeal after appeal, but they all lost. Every time, Paul had merely shrugged it off. That bothered Jill more than the fact that he was locked up.

  "Food sucks." He smirked, but there was no humor. "And I think I've read all the good books."

  She forced herself to smile, even though she didn't appreciate the attempt at humor. Paul hated to see her all broken and weepy, so Jill made it a point to put on a good front for him. More than once, she'd break down once she got back to her car, have herself a solid ten-minute cry before pulling herself together and heading back home. But her days of breaking down in front of her father were over.

  "How's Brian?"

  The question threw her off, even though he had asked during almost every other visit. Brian wasn’t visiting him, so maybe Paul figured he could only hear about his lone son by asking his daughter. Jill opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out; instead, she just shook her head and looked down at her hands.

  Paul scoffed and shook his head. "Jesus fucking Christ, Jill... you two still haven't made up?"

  "Dad --"

  "I don't need to remind you, kid, that he's all the family you have left."

  "Blood family," she argued. "There's Dan and there's Ramon and Juanita..."

  He shook his head. "All of your emotional ties are from your work. That's not healthy. You need an attachment outside of work."

  "And you think reconciling with my brother, the assistant DA, will help."

  Paul leaned forward, eyeing Al and lowering his voice. "I'm gonna be in the ground in six months. You really wanna be on the outs with Brian when that time comes?"

  Jill stared at her hands again, feeling the emotion welling up in her eyes. Her lower lip quivered. "I..." She swallowed hard. "I tried. He won't talk to me."

  "So try again. And again, if you have to. For fuck's sake, try every day for a year. Try until he hears you out just to shut you up."

  Paul was right. She knew he was right. Jill and Brian had been tight throughout their childhood, but Paul's arrest -- and Janice's suicide after the verdict -- put a strain on them. The final straw came several years ago, when Jill was about to deploy for her first tour in Iraq and ignored a phone call from Brian. We'll talk later, she had thought at the time. The next morning, Jill found out her brother had been in a car accident. He was paralyzed from the waist down.

  Jill remembered, as if it had happened the day before, the look on Brian's face when she visited him in the hospital. The anger in his eyes. The hurt, the sense of betrayal. She never forgot the way he threw her out of his room, before she could drop off his flowers, before she could ask what happened or how he was.

  "Kid." Paul leaned even closer, his breath fogging up the glass. "When are you gonna stop waiting around for the ‘right time’ to do things? Hasn't being in this family taught you not to put things off?"

  A couple stray tears escaped and ran down Jill's cheeks. She wiped at them immediately, foolishly hoping her father hadn't seen them. With a sniffle, she forced herself to meet his gaze. If he had seen her tears, he wasn't going to say anything about them. Instead, he sat back and closed his eyes. "It's almost time, Jill."

  She shook her head. "And you don't even care."

  Paul shrugged. "I'm a big fan of hope. I'm proud of the fact that I never lost it in all my years on the force. But one thing I hate, kid, is false hope. No sense in gettin' my hopes up for something that's not gonna happen."

  "I'm gonna get you out." Jill’s voice was almost a whisper, and she immediately regretted saying it. This wasn’t the first time they had this conversation, and if Jill got to visit her old man again before the state put him down, it probably wouldn’t be the last.

  "No, you're not." Paul shook his head. "You're gonna do your job. You're gonna be the best damn cop you can be. But..." He sighed, anger briefly flashing in his blue eyes. "... how many times do I have to tell you not to turn your badge into some personal crusade on my behalf?"

  Jill pushed herself out of her chair, hands balling into fists. "How many times do I have to tell you innocent men don't deserve to die?"

  Paul sighed again. "You can't save everyone, kid." Jill watched as Paul nodded at Al, before the security guard grabbed him by the arm and lifted him out of the chair after releasing his shackles from the chain leading to the floor. He looked at his daughter before being led away, a genuine smile finally crossing his wrinkled face. The harsh lights were not kind to him. "I love you for trying, though."

  With a wave, and the emotional dam threatening to burst, she whispered, "I love you too, dad."

  Chapter 32

  Ten years ago...

  Shady, clandestine meetings in dark alleys were cliché -- so much so that when David Gregor actually had to hold one of those meetings, he preferred to leave Baltimore altogether. Alexandria, Virginia was one of his favorite go-to spots, because it allowed him to buck shady bad guy tradition and he didn't run the risk of being seen by people who knew him if he crossed over the Potomac River. That was one of the few drawbacks of doing business in his hometown. There weren't many unfamiliar faces.

  His black sedan idled in the deserted parking lot of what was once a chain restaurant. Traffic meandered down the street, completely unaware of Gregor's presence. The traffic pattern was so predictable that Gregor could time the lights to the exact second, which he did because the man with whom he was supposed to meet was running forty-five minutes late and he was bored.

  Generally speaking, Gregor despised tardiness. But given the reality of traffic in the greater D.C./Baltimore/Northern Virginia area, he supposed there was a time when such excuses were justified.

  As if on cue, a blue SUV pulled into the parking space next to Gregor's, their vehicles facing in opposite directions. The tinted window on the driver's side wound down before Paul Andersen rested his elbow on the door frame and leaned his head out.

  "Must you insist on meeting during rush hour?"

  Gregor smirked. "You've lived here long enough to know every hour is rush hour."

  Paul reached over to the passenger's seat of his SUV, grabbing a silver briefcase and handing it to Gregor. The businessman took the container with a knowing smile, setting it down in his lap and flipping it open with both hands. The click was audible to Paul, and he watched Gregor's face light up when he saw $250,000 in cash.

  Gregor closed the briefcase with a satisfied nod. "Knew I could count on you, Andersen."

  Paul kept quiet, staring out the windshield, his left hand resting against the steering wheel and his thumb and forefinger rubbing together. The detective chewed on his lower lip, eyes squinting.

  Gregor watched the inner turmoil on display and shook his head, because it was so damn predictable. "Before you say anything, let me ask: how's that college fund working out?"

  Anger flashed in Paul's eyes, but he fought it back before meeting Gregor's gaze. There was no emotion in the businessman's eyes. In fact, David Gregor rarely showed any outward expression; more often than not, the most expressive thing about Gregor was his attire.

  "I'm not asking out." The venom practically dripped from Paul's voice.

  "But you're having doubts." Gregor nodded with a shrug. "Of course you are. A fine, upstanding man like yourself should be above clandestine meetings with corrupt businessmen to exchange money for services rendered, and yet... here you are."

  Don't remind me.

  Every time Paul drove to one of these meetings, every time his phone rang and that number showed up, every time he saw that crimson suit, he felt an overwhelming pang of guilt. More than the guilt, though, Paul felt like he was trapped. He'd gotten himself into this mess in a moment of weakness, and now he couldn
't get himself out of it. Not without repercussions.

  What would his partner think? What would everyone else at the precinct think? Janice? Brian? Jill?

  Fuck, Jill...

  Paul was her hero. In her eyes, he was incapable of doing wrong. And yet here he was, exchanging wads of cash with a man linked to drug and human trafficking in exchange for under-the-table dealings designed to set things in motion until Gregor Enterprises got the outcome it wanted.

  Long story short, Paul wasn't feeling all that heroic.

  Then again, if Jill made it through college without being saddled with debt, if Brian was able to take advantage of every opportunity in front of him to achieve his life dreams, then wasn't the moral ambiguity worth it? Paul wanted so desperately to say yes.

  "One more thing," Gregor's authoritative tone broke Paul out of his trance. "Samantha Montgomery."

  Paul frowned. "The judge's daughter?"

  "The judge's daughter who's mulling a run for City Council." Gregor shook his head. "We can't have that."

  Paul nodded in understanding, sighing and putting his SUV into gear. "Consider it taken care of."

  Gregor smiled as the SUV peeled out of the parking lot, stealing one more glance at the briefcase in the passenger's seat. Two minutes after Paul left, Gregor did the same -- completely oblivious to the black Crown Vic parked across the street at a McDonald's. Daniel Richards sat in the driver's seat and peering over the steering wheel through a pair of binoculars. He lowered them and shook his head, the weight of his recent discovery sinking in. Paul Andersen -- his partner -- was holding secret meetings with David Gregor. There weren't enough words in the English language to describe how bad this was.

  Chapter 33

  Present day...

  Jill understood how risky it was to go out as Bounty with the hit still hanging over her head. But Dr. Roberts’ killer leaving her his heart -- as clear a message as actually scribbling something on a Post-It note and sticking it to her door -- forced Jill’s hand. She had to do something, even if it was outside her jurisdiction as a detective.

  Even if it was illegal.

  This was actually the first time she had donned the suit since Gregor's press conference, and she was trying to adjust her behavior accordingly. A lot more time spent crouching around corners, pressing her back against walls, hiding in shadows, taking alleys and side streets instead of more direct routes. Her only saving grace was the fact that she knew downtown Baltimore so well, she could probably draw an intricate map, with street names and everything, strictly from memory. In addition, she knew the habits of both locals and tourists, which meant she could avoid being seen if it came to that. Granted, that wasn’t nearly as predictable as a map, but Jill trusted her intimate knowledge of her lifelong home to keep her safe.

  Much to Jill's chagrin, the streets were quiet. She needed to beat someone's head in; she needed that release after the unwanted surprise at her door and her visit with her father. Each visit was worse than the last, as if the realization that Paul was inching closer to death was driving a wedge between them. She hated that, but not nearly as much as she hated how he seemed to be okay with dying. How an innocent man could simply accept his fate like that, she would never know.

  Her father’s advice with regards to her brother hadn't helped matters. Jill knew everything Paul had told her was true, but she couldn't see any way to act on it -- certainly not when Brian wasn't willing to talk. How could she reconnect with someone who was so insistent on shutting her out?

  "Come on..." She shook her head. "Where's a fuckin' bad guy when I need one?"

  As if on cue, Jill heard a trash can topple over. Darting into a full sprint, Jill leapt over an empty crate before disappearing into a nearby alley. Her brown locks fluttered about as she ran, shielding her face even more than the eyeplate alone. On instinct, her hand went to her hip to draw her weapon, before Jill realized she didn't have that weapon on her. It was one of the side effects of being both a cop and a superhero: she still had problems on occasion separating one from the other.

  "Stop! Police!"

  Jill frowned at the male voice. Was that... Ramon?!

  She broke into a run again, trying to keep her breathing quiet even as her footsteps betrayed her presence. Combat boots were great for, well, combat. Stealth, not so much. Jill cut another corner, grunting when her shoulder glanced off worn brick. She saw her partner disappear around another corner, gritting her teeth and running even faster. As Jill cut that same corner, she saw Ramon falter. Leaping into the air, she grabbed her partner's shoulders, ignoring his surprised yelp as she did a mid-air three-sixty and landed on the person he had been pursuing.

  The figure struggled before Jill managed to pin their arms behind their back. "You alright?" Jill asked as she glanced over her shoulder.

  Ramon stumbled back to his feet with a nod, his eyes wide. He joined Jill as she rolled the figure over, and they both frowned when they realized he had been chasing a Japanese woman, a black hood hovering over her face and striking against the red bodysuit clinging to her lithe frame. Jill and Ramon exchanged glances, and Ramon shrugged his shoulders.

  "She was poking around at the Inner Harbor,” he explained between gulps of air. “I tried to get her to move along, and she booked it."

  Ramon hunched over, hands on his knees, still sucking up oxygen as fast as he could. Jill felt a momentary pang of guilt on his behalf, realizing he’d never enjoy the physical advantages she did. Thankfully, she didn’t get the chance to flex them much on official police business, so it wasn’t like it would give the other cops fodder for teasing. Then again, unless and until Ramon got his act together at crime scenes, there would always be that.

  Jill glared at the woman pinned between her and the ground. Recognition flashed in the woman's eyes, which was strange since Jill was certain they'd never before crossed paths. The woman grabbed Jill by the wrist and tried to tug, gritting her teeth from the exertion. Yet Jill's wrist did not budge.

  "Who are you?" Jill tightened her grip on the woman.

  The woman peeled off the hood, revealing her almond-shaped eyes and dark bangs that seemed to rest atop her eyebrows. She finally managed to break herself from Jill's grip and huffed, anger in her dark eyes. "Patient Zero..."

  Jill shook her head and sighed in annoyance, grabbing the katana strapped to her back and giving the other woman a full-on view of the blade. When the woman saw her reflection in it, she stiffened and held her breath.

  "Let's try this again." Jill slammed the katana down inches from the other woman's face, the tip sinking into the concrete. "Who are you?”

  The other woman's jaw clenched. Jill grabbed her neck with her free hand, squeezing ever so slightly and ignoring the worrisome whisper of her name from over her shoulder. She knew exactly what she was doing, even if she didn’t have time to fill her partner in on the plan. She was in complete control, and she wasn’t going to leave this alley before getting the information she wanted.

  The other woman flinched before relaxing her jaw and closing her eyes. "Yuki."

  "Let me guess." Jill released her grip around Yuki's neck but kept her pinned to the ground. "You're trying to collect a million-dollar payday."

  A dark smile crossed over Yuki's features.

  Ramon stood over Jill's shoulder. "Who hired you?" he asked, knowing full well she wouldn't answer the question. "Was it Gregor?"

  Something flashed in Yuki's eyes. Jill couldn't tell what it was, but she was thankful that Yuki had a terrible poker face. The fact that she had a reaction to that name, whether she spoke or not, told the two of them all they needed to know.

  Yuki laughed under her breath. "What are you, the sidekick?"

  Jill slammed the back of Yuki's head against the concrete. "He's my partner."

  Confident Yuki wouldn't try to get up, too busy dealing with the pounding in her head, Jill stood and sheathed her katana. She looked down at the woman writhing in pain, noting how she tried to project a co
nfidence and a sense of royalty, as if she knew how important she was and wanted everyone else to know it. Yuki wore a thick, durable cloth of some kind that didn't shine or reflect any light. It was heavy like leather, yet it was something else entirely.

  "Mr. Gutierrez." Jill smiled. "I do believe you have an arrest to make. Disturbing a crime scene and resisting arrest."

  He smirked, grabbing the cuffs from his back pocket. "I can see the report now: 'Suspect attempted to flee on foot and injured herself when finally apprehended’." He dropped to a knee, rolling Yuki onto her stomach and pinning her arms behind her back. "Hey, thanks for --" He looked over his shoulder, only to find that Jill had disappeared. He frowned and shook his head before eventually turning his attention back to Yuki.

  The cuffs clicked shut. "You have the right to remain silent..."

  Chapter 34

  Ramon stood in the observation room adjacent to Interrogation One, studying Yuki. Her expression was blank, much like it had been the moment he slapped the cuffs around her wrists. Her short black hair was tightly cropped around her temples and covered her ears and forehead. She sat with her elbows on the table, hands clasped together and fingers intertwined. The fact that she was still in handcuffs didn't seem to bother her. In fact, nothing appeared to phase her -- except for the sight earlier of Jill dressed as the vigilante.

  Yuki was certainly a mystery. Every database Ramon could think to run her name and prints through came up empty, both nationally and globally. He was still waiting for a return call from one of his contacts in D.C., but Ramon had to admit, at least to himself, that probably wouldn’t pan out either.

  The sound of the door opening snapped Ramon out of his train of thought, and he sighed when he saw Daniel Richards walk in. The captain joined Ramon by the observation window, hands in his pockets, red tie loose around his neck. Under the harsh light, the bags under Richards’ eyes looked even worse, and he stared through the glass over the black-rim glasses hanging from his ears.