A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(4)

Making her way to the stairway, she entered and then jerked to a stop. Marty stood on the fourth step, apparently waiting for her. “Why are you following me?”

She saw no weapon, but knew he could get to his gun in a flash.

Outrage flared in her eyes. “I beg your pardon. I am merely headed to my car.”

“I saw you yesterday in the department store.”

Dammit. She had thought he might have. He had been stalking Mrs. Worthington and her daughters in the store. And Irelyn had been stalking him. Mrs. Worthington had stopped at the cosmetic counter. Marty had been only a few feet away. Irelyn had been in the lingerie section several yards away and had thought herself well hidden. However, she’d glanced over at Marty, and for half a second, their eyes had met. She had looked away quickly, and when he had turned away without another glance, she had convinced herself he hadn’t noticed her. Those were the kinds of mistakes rookies made, not seasoned professionals like herself. She’d dwell on that later. For now, she had a job to do.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, and I resent the—” Her eyes shifted to the top of the stairway. As she had intended, Marty made a fatal mistake and looked up, too. Irelyn pulled her weapon and fired. Two shots, one in the chest, one in the head. Neat little bloodless holes that belied the damage occurring inside the body. She caught him before he fell forward. Thankfully, he wasn’t a large man, but he was a dead weight, and it took some effort to pull him down the stairs and into a small alcove on the other side of the railing, out of sight. A dead body on the stairs wasn’t something the children needed in their heads. His eyes were already fixed in that death haze.

Pulling her cellphone from her pocket, she took several close-up photos. She’d email them later.

She heard a sound and peered out into the garage. The Worthingtons had just entered. The girls were giggling with each other, and Mrs. Worthington was laughing softly at something her husband said. It was a sweet sound of happy innocence, and one she had rarely heard.

Even though mistakes had been made, she was pleased with the night’s outcome. The Worthingtons would continue on, never knowing how close they’d come to death. As soon as she returned to her hotel room, after she emailed the photos of Marty J’s body, she would send a separate, anonymous message to the Worthington patriarch. He needed to know what his evil son had almost gotten away with. If the man didn’t change his will, it would likely happen again. Hopefully, Mr. Worthington would take the free advice.

She walked out of the garage and back onto the street. The image of Marty’s death mask would forever remain in her memory. Killing another human being, even one as vile as James Martin, was a nauseating, disturbing act. She might have been trained to be a killer, but she would never accept that she was one. However, she had made this bed and now she had to lie in it until she accomplished her goal.

If she lived that long.





Chapter Two





Dallas, Texas





“The last one was found in a parking garage in Chicago. Two shots, head and chest.”

Grey Justice studied the photographs before him. Five men, all skilled assassins, had been shot at point-blank range. The murder business was a dangerous profession, so the likelihood of an assassin getting killed wasn’t uncommon. However, these five men had been killed within the last six months, and their deaths were not only mysterious, the hits were professional. It took a very skilled killer to take down another one. And he had intimate knowledge of one of the most skilled.

“You think she’s responsible for all of them?” Nick Gallagher asked.

Over the past two years, Gallagher had become a close confidant. As a team leader, he had personal knowledge of every aspect of the Grey Justice Group. Grey had not only come to rely on Gallagher’s good judgment and intellect, but he depended on his trustworthiness, too. When he’d asked him to investigate the murder of an assassin late last year, he had known he might find out things he didn’t want to know. And now there were four more murders similar to that first one.

Aware that Gallagher’s keen eyes were reading his every expression, Grey said quietly, “I don’t know.”

Irelyn was certainly capable of committing all of them. She had skills that would put the highest-paid contract killer to shame. But there was one thing she lacked…the one thing that made him doubt the evidence. Irelyn didn’t have the heart of a killer. Beneath that beautiful, icy veneer was a warm, compassionate woman. Others might not see it, but Grey had firsthand experience. He knew Irelyn’s heart.

A couple of years ago, another woman, looking almost identical to Irelyn, had been responsible for several kills. Ivy Roane had done her best to make others believe she was Irelyn and had almost succeeded. But he knew for a fact that Ivy Roane was dead. So was there another? Had infamous contract killer Hill Reed, with his bizarre obsession for Irelyn, created more than one knock-off?

His gut said no. This was something different. Something else was going on here, and Irelyn Raine was right in the middle of it all. If she had taken out these men, there was a reason. A damn good one. Question was, what?

“She’s much better with a knife than a gun,” Grey said.

“That’s not exactly a reassuring vote of confidence.”

Grey’s smile was grim. “No, I guess not.” He sighed. “Truth is, I don’t know. She’s got the skills, but…” He shook his head.