Page 17 of Urban Justice
Chapter 8
It wasdifficult to know how she felt as she lay on the floor, cradled in the arms of the man still deep inside her, his head in her neck while his breathing slowed bit by bit.
Damn, she’d had one night stands, but never with colleagues. It couldn’t even be considered as such as she’d jumped the poor man. Not that it wasn’t like her, but certainly not when so much was on the line.
So if she was wrong, why did she want to wince when his arms loosened around her?
He was gentle now as he touched her. The roughness gone, his fingers almost caressing as he disengaged himself and helped her up.
Sloane wasn’t shy or awkward, but she still gathered her clothes and went to the bathroom to clean herself up. Maybe to also gather her thoughts.
She heard him move on the other side of the door, which pushed her to get ready fast, way before she had the chance to be grounded again.
Luke had dressed too, and was making another coffee, or two. When he turned, Sloane was ready to give her usual speech, the one that worked like a charm. However, when he handed her a cup, he cut her off. “Now that is out of the way, I think we need to talk, Ms. Sloane Friday.”
The cup was in her hands before she could utter a syllable. It was a simple fuck, although a mind-blowing one, and he agreed. Everything was settled before it even started.
“I think you’re right, Professor Radcliffe.”
He gestured for her to sit on a stool at the breakfast nook beside him.
Everything seemed so cozy, so friendly, even though appearances could be so deceiving. She took a sip of coffee, the caffeine pushing the remnants of bliss out of her system. “Back to business, professor. Does that mean you’re in?”
With a laser-like gaze from over his coffee mug, he nodded. “As long as you’re straight with me and I’m not being played, I see an opportunity for a temporary partnership.”
“It wasn’t my intention, our intention, to hide anything from you. Stopping the distribution of Phantom is our only goal.”
The professor pondered on her words. “No wonder the traffickers are using the tunnels. There are so many ins and outs. However, tunnels that aren’t used, or most importantly, forgotten, aren’t that common. Not anymore. There are always people around.”
“You mean because scholars like you are in them? Mapping it out before revealing it to the world, professor?”
His mouth resumed the smile she remembered from the day before. “I think that after what just happened, where your hand and my mouth have been, you should call me Luke.”
He wasn’t wrong on that. “Well, Luke, that’s the reason we contacted you, but we learned we weren’t the only ones. As a matter of fact, they’ve been on you for a while and grew tired of being ignored.”
“And that leads me to two more questions. Who is after me, and how do you know I’ve received those emails?”
Sloane winced. “For the emails, let’s say that someone on our side with uncanny talent found that bit of information. As for the other question, it leads to a man by the name of Mr. White.”
“Okay, I’ll skip the bit about hacking into my accounts, as it happened before our agreement. Now, who is Mr. White? And is he real?”
“Very real. A few weeks ago, we had a tip about Phantom making a leap over the Atlantic and coming to Chicago. There was a bidding war over the exclusivity of the lab here. Or, more precisely, the formula. Mr. White won, even killed his partner over it. Everything is concealed under his conglomerate, Maximon. We almost got him, almost shut all this down before he invaded Chicago with his poison. We failed and now we’re trying to plug the holes in a ship that is sinking faster than we dare to admit. Mr. White has all but vanished, so our only avenue is to track him from the bottom up, go after his minions in the hopes we get enough information on the way to bring him down. It hasn’t worked so far, so my suggestion was to put a crick in his business and bug him enough that he comes out and confront us.”
Luke put his empty cup down and stood. “Like poking at a tiger with a short stick. Sounds desperate or damn stupid to me.”
Now, the last of the lust fumes were blown away. “People are dying from that drug!”
“And you, and whoever you’re working for, including the Vigilante, are willing to just step randomly in front of bullets to stop him?”
“Not randomly. But it’s a risk we all accept. The Vigilante knows that death may be part of the equation. What if that fateful bullet stops it all? Wouldn’t you take the risk?”
She knew the man in front of her would do it. He’d been a Marine. He’d faced that possibility, that sacrifice. It was written all over his face for a second.
“Sloane, the bullet can be avoided with a plan. Sacrifice is an end, but if everything starts over once you’re dead, you won’t be there to take care of it, to support the Vigilante.”
Death didn’t scare her. Maybe because so little tied her to life besides her purpose.
“We were right to contact you. You’re the voice of reason, aren’t you? The logical mind. There was no way we would’ve contacted you unless it was our last resort. I promise it will only be for this and that it will be done anywhere you like, far from any danger. We won’t put you in the line of fire, risk your life or your job. That’s a promise I can make.”