Page 15 of Shadows of Justice

I chew on my cheek and watch him for a minute. He’s being funny, but it’s to veil the truth. He has sadness underneath his dark eyes. I know, because I hide behind humor as well. A defense mechanism—as they say.

I can see it in him now, because I see it every time I look in the mirror.

“Why did you save that girl?” I ask him, eyes narrowed.

The inhabitants of 783 Seedling Street were not having a party. After Eliana was handled, we entered the premises and found a sea of bodies ranging in activity from shooting up to deep in a heroin coma. We found Eliana’s mother, Demetria, passed out in a back room with two naked men on either side of her, a needle still in her arm. She couldn’t even tell us who Eliana was when she first came to.

My gut tells me that Leo didn’t come upon that car on happenstance. He went out there looking for Eliana out of sympathy. Because he cared.

Now, I really need him to say something other than that, so I can shut my feelings up and arrest him without a shred of remorse. I need to hear that he’s just another bad guy asshole, not a heart in his obscenely muscular chest to be found.

Leo puts his arms down, his face growing serious.

“As shitty as it sounds, Eliana is there with Demetria quite often. Single mother, and all that. She’s there enough that I noticed when she wasn’t. I guess that comes from being the only sober one.”

“You expect me to believe that you frequent heroin dens but you don’t partake?” I ask, quirking a brow.

He holds out his forearms, showing them to me.

“Do I look like a junkie to you? We got the same smoothie, ‘Lean Green Machine,’” he teases, tapping the straw on my nose and looking absolutely devilish. “I’m a healthy man—I’ve never touched the stuff. The owner of that house is just an associate of mine, and our relationship has nothing to do with drugs. What he does on his free time is up to him.”

I chew on my cheek, my thoughts racing. A health-conscious, in-shape drug dealer who doesn’t do drugs, only drinks soda at bars, and saves innocent kids in his free time?

Things aren’t adding up about this guy. I’ve taken in a lot of assholes in my eight years, never with a second thought, and then basked in the satisfaction of removing waste off the streets for the betterment of my community.

But Leo seems . . . different. He’s not fitting the profile he portrays in his file back at the precinct. Not by a long shot.

“I’ll ask you one more time, officer, so that we can each continue on with our Saturday,” he leans in again, and his scent wafts to me in the warm breeze as it tickles my face. “Are you going to arrest me?”

I push out a breath and roll my shoulder. His eyes are like charcoal, boring into me with enough intensity to make me squirm. My mouth is dry and I wet my lips, my heart race picking up for the first time since he had me against the wall.

I can’t make this mistake again.

I might never sleep another night in my life.

“Yes,” I say, and clear my throat when my voice cracks. “Yes, I am. I just need to call it in.”

His expression darkens, but not in anger. It’s more, oddly, like respect.

He turns, walking the few steps to where my phone fell. He picks it up and wipes it on his shorts, coming back to me. The screen is cracked, but it lights up as he picks up my wrist and places it in my hand. He never takes his eyes off of mine—every movement fluid, like a shark in water.

I dial the non-emergent line for Pasadena PD, wanting to get transferred directly to my captain. I know he’s there; he works half of the day every Saturday.

The line rings and I tap my foot impatiently. If I look at Leo again I’ll lose my nerve, but I can sure feel his gaze on me. I even feel it as it goes down to my fidgeting foot, and then burns its way back up to my face. His throaty chuckle caresses my ears as I look anywhere but at him.

“Why are you so nervous?” Leo asks, his tone low. “Not sure I deserve it?”

“Of course you deserve it,” I answer, still not looking at him. “You put drugs and other harmful substances on the street.”

“Actually, if that’s the extent of what you believe I do, then you truly have no idea what it is that I do.”

His annoyingly matter-of-fact response chips away at another piece of the puzzle I’m grasping to, considering he’s willing to be brought in without a fight. Clearly he knows we have nothing on him, meaning either our knowledge is incomplete, or he’s just plain innocent.

The line is still ringing. For crying out loud.

I risk a glance at him and instantly regret it. He’s smirking at me again. He’s irritatingly handsome.

“Maybe I could make myself of use to you,” he says with a small shrug. “Earn me a pass that justifies you letting me go—again—without you losing any sleep over it?”

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