Covert Justice. Lynn Huggins Blackburn

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СКАЧАТЬ the bossy side, not that he would complain.

      “Mr. Harrison?”

      The voice. Yes. He would know her voice anywhere. Although last night she’d called him Blake. He preferred Blake. He opened the door before he could change his mind.

      “Hi.”

      Yes, same eyes, flashing with amusement now as she studied him.

      He followed her gaze to the bat clenched in his hand. He considered putting it down, but really, what did he know about her?

      Besides the fact that she’d saved his life.

      “May I come in?”

      He hesitated and looked behind her. A small Acura SUV sat in his driveway. “How did you get in here?”

      “Your code’s not complicated.”

      His mind raced with the implications. She knew where he lived. She’d had no difficulty entering their gated driveway. She hadn’t tried to hide either of those facts.

      “Mr. Harrison?”

      He met her gaze.

      “I’d rather not stand on your porch all evening. If you don’t want me to come in, I’d be happy to meet you somewhere more public.”

      “No.” No way could he let her get away without giving him some kind of explanation for what was going on. Although he doubted he’d be able to stop her if she wanted to leave.

      He stuck out his hand. “My name is Blake Harrison.”

      She grinned as she shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrison. I’m Heidi Zimmerman.”

      “It’s nice to meet you. Please come in. And please, call me Blake.” He opened the door wider and stepped to the side. “Have a seat.”

      He didn’t miss the way her eyes darted around the room as she crossed the threshold, or the way she chose a chair with a view of the door and the rest of the room.

      “Thank you,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

      “Fine.” Her smirk told him she wasn’t buying it. “I’m moving slow, but there’s no permanent damage. Thanks to you.”

      They stared at each other for a moment. He got the impression that she was analyzing everything he said, every move he made, but he couldn’t be sure what she’d concluded about him. “Can I offer you a Coke? Mountain Dew? Tea? Water?”

      “Water would be great.”

      He tried not to let on how stiff he was as he walked to the kitchen.

      Her voice followed him. “You have a lovely home.”

      “Thanks. It was my grandparents’. I inherited it after they passed away.”

      Why on earth had he said that? He grabbed a water for her and a Mountain Dew for himself. Returning to the living room, he handed her the bottle and eased into the chair across from her. He had so many questions, but no idea where to start.

      She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and removed a small leather case. She flipped it open and slid it across the coffee table. “Maybe this will help.”

      He read the words on the badge. FBI? Was this for real?

      “Need a closer look? You can call headquarters, if you’d like to verify it’s legitimate.”

      FBI? A lead weight settled on his chest as the faint hope that the events of last night were a fluke disintegrated. “I think I’d like to hear what you have to say first.”

      “Fair enough,” she said. “I need you to know, before last night I had no idea you were in danger.”

      The way she looked at him with her head cocked to the side, brows knit, mouth tight, he couldn’t question the sincerity or concern behind her words.

      Then again, for all he knew the FBI gave their agents acting classes.

      He’d fallen for a pretty face once before. And Heidi Zimmerman qualified as more than a pretty face. Her hair spiraled past her shoulders in shades of blond and brown and one little curl kept breaking free from where she tucked it behind her ear. Long lashes framed big green eyes set over a cute nose.

      Cute nose? Nobody had a cute nose. He needed to pull it together. What had she said? She hadn’t known someone wanted him dead? What did someone say to that? Great?

      She sat straighter in her chair. “I’m sure this goes without saying, but if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you, I’ll deny it and you’ll be prosecuted for obstruction of justice.”

      “Sounds fun.”

      Her lips twitched. Super FBI agent lady had a sense of humor. Interesting.

      No trace of humor lingered when she spoke again. “Fifty years ago, Viktor Kovac immigrated to America from Hungary. It didn’t take him long to settle into New York City and within a few years, more members of the family joined him. Within ten years of his arrival, the Kovacs had made a name for themselves in criminal circles. The police suspected them of everything from money laundering to drug smuggling.”

      She took a sip of her water. “Like most organized crime families, they are focused on doing whatever it takes to protect their own and make as much money as they can. In recent years the younger Kovacs have pushed into darker territory. Instead of money laundering and protection schemes, they’ve been linked to human trafficking, arms smuggling and trying to corner the market on certain prescription drugs.”

      “I’ve never heard of them.”

      “No. You wouldn’t. Other than the occasional low-ranking lieutenant or wannabe, they’ve never been prosecuted.”

      “Never?”

      She shook her head, disgust etching her features. “They’ve been linked to multiple homicides yet despite extraordinary efforts on the part of detectives, FBI agents and even informants, there’s never been enough proof to take them to trial, much less secure a conviction.”

      Her voice cracked and for a moment, a cavern of pain opened in her eyes. As quickly as it appeared, she looked away and when their eyes met again, steely determination was in its place.

      “The younger Kovacs are opportunists. They function without morals, ethics or loyalty to anything or anyone other than the family.”

      “You don’t have to convince me. They’re bad news. I’ll be sure to stay away from them.”

      “I’m afraid that won’t be as easy as you may think.”

      “What are you talking about? I don’t know any Kovacs.”

      When she looked at him her eyes filled, not with the intensity he’d seen a moment ago, but with compassion. She had the look his mother had had when she’d told him about Grandma’s cancer. A look like that only came with bad news.

      “Are СКАЧАТЬ