Chapter 3

Working alone was always easier for me. No witnesses to keep quiet, no partners that could potentially betray you, no one to watch like a hawk so they don't screw up the whole fucking plan. The only people I trusted to help me were my brothers, and even then, only a select few. Although it was rare that I took anyone with me, they usually supported me from somewhere else. Like Hack's security company.

Entering the courthouse when it was open gave me the opportunity to blend in with the crowds, but it made bypassing access control systems much more difficult. There were times when the invisibility of a crowd was necessary, but this mission required solitude.

I wanted to get in and out unnoticed in case I couldn"t find proof that Judge Timkins was making side deals, profiting off giving people lighter or harsher sentences than their crimes warranted. If I left empty-handed, I didn't want the judge on alert that someone was digging around in his life.

Hack had already done a deep dive into his life. He found plenty of skeletons, but none of them were enough to get the judge's ass thrown in jail. Disbarred, probably. Divorced, definitely. But not jail.

So we figured the trail must be on paper, which was why I was at his office later on a Friday night. And on the plus side, if I found something, he couldn't report the break-in without them wanting to know what was stolen. Then he'd be up shit creek without a paddle.

We'd let him stew a little while we handled Rom's case, though. One of our fill-in tail gunners, Knight, was a bounty hunter and could track just about anyone. Babysitting the judge was below his skill level, but when it involved another patch, he wouldn't trust the job to just anyone else. He worked with a couple of other fugitive recovery agents, particularly a married couple who saved his ass a time or two. They'd been more than happy to help when they heard about the judge's dirty dealings. So they would watch Timkins when Knight was unavailable.

"Unlocked the southwest fire exit," Grey said into my earpiece, breaking into my thoughts. He was Hack's best hacker and a good friend, so I trusted his skill. Plus, he'd already proven himself many times when he was a prospect and then a patch.

Security at the courthouse was minimal on the weekends because most doors and windows were locked, as well as offices, courtrooms, and other spaces—many that had restricted access during the day, as well. And CCTV footage covered most of the building.

"Motion lights?"

"Some young punks threw rocks at the lights this afternoon and broke a few," Grey said with laughter in his voice. Then he sighed. "Some people's kids."

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my lips tipped up—pretty much the equivalent of a grin for me.

"Cameras?" I asked as I walked along the wall. The windows started an inch or two higher than my six-foot height, so there was no need to crouch. If I had been forced to walk bent at an angle, it might have attracted the attention of anyone who looked in this direction. Not that many people spent time walking around the entire building, but the parking lot was at the rear, so depending on the spot they chose, they had a good view of where I was. But most people ignored their surroundings, especially dark areas.

"Still frame," Grey answered. "But I can only pause them for ten to fifteen seconds at a time or anyone watching the screens will see the hitch in the feed."

I crept up to the door he'd opened for me, glanced around to make sure I was alone, then pulled it open and stepped into the stairwell. The interior of the courthouse had cream walls with expensive artwork, and everything else was made of dark wood. In stark contrast to that, the fire exits were gray concrete from top to bottom, with the exception of dark-blue railings and bright-red fire hoses. Every little sound echoed loud and clear, so I was careful not to let my boots squeak on the floor.

"The cameras are only on the landings," Grey informed me. "So stop two steps from the top, and I'll tell you when."

I did as I was told as he guided me up to the third floor where the judge's chamber was located.

"The door to his office is about a thousand feet to your left. There are two cameras that cover that area. Just a sec—okay go."

I slipped into the hallway and beat a silent path to Timkins' chambers. It was restricted by a keypad and a fingerprint scanner, but the biometrics in the building had broken down that morning…I hooked up the decoder and let it do its thing. In less than five seconds, the lock disengaged, and I was able to slip into the office, narrowly missing Grey's window on the cameras.

"I don't have eyes in there, so just let me know when you're ready to leave," Grey reminded me. Apparently, the judge was too "private," which meant paranoid in my book, to have cameras in his chambers. He relied solely on the controlled access and distress alarms.

Silently, I shut the door behind me and looked around. The chambers were a large suite of rooms, smaller offices, a conference room, a bathroom, and a few others. But I walked toward the one with the obnoxiously ornate knocker on it. The guy was a pompous ass, and it didn't surprise me one bit that he would make sure his space was distinct.

A delicious scent wafted to my nose, and my feet automatically moved toward it. There was a small, neat desk in one corner, and although I didn't see a candle or lotion or anything that would be producing the smell, it was strongest there. Breathing deeply, I felt my mouth water at the hints of vanilla and cinnamon in the air. And to my utter shock, my dick stirred. What the fuck?

"Everything okay?" Grey inquired, reminding me where I was and making me feel like a complete pussy for being captivated by a scent, especially such a feminine one. I'd been so distracted by it that I hadn't responded to his comment.

I cleared my throat, but my voice was gruff when I answered. "Yeah, just getting the lay of the land."

Forcing myself to walk away from the tantalizing aroma, I headed toward the big office. There was moonlight filtering through the tall windows, so I didn't need to use my flashlight to find my way around. However, when I entered the judge's room, I pulled it from my pocket to help me see smaller details. Like the labels on the file cabinets, and indications of hiding spots.

I opened the first file drawer and started combing the papers. When I didn't find anything damning, I moved to the next. It was unlikely that the guy would be stupid enough to leave evidence of his misdeeds in an easily accessible spot like that. However, sometimes hiding in plain sight was the safest bet…like fading into a crowd.

And who knew what other dirt I might find, so I went through the entire cabinet. I found plenty of case files where the defendants were completely screwed over in the justice process and even more who were given sentences that were outrageous in relation to the crime. In many cases, like Rom's, misdemeanors were escalated to felonies on a technicality. Then there were the opposite cases, ones where people who should have been sent to prison for life, or at least longer than five years, such as the drug kingpin whose file I was reading.

I replaced the cases, shaking my head in disgust. We needed to take this motherfucker down by any means necessary. Mac wouldn't agree, especially when the guy was so high profile, but I was a fucking fixer. I knew how to make it look like a suicide, or he'd overdosed with one of the druggies he'd let off with a light sentence. Hell, I could make it look like a fucking heart attack and no one—and I mean no one—would know the difference. I was that fucking good.

I finished up with the first cabinet, then decided to do a little creeping around before starting on the next one. Without disturbing much—slight shifting of items and the chair could be explained by custodial—I ran my hands over the desk, feeling for out of place notches, gaps in the seams, or anything that didn't feel right.

Just as my fingers were gliding over a bump in the floor beneath the desk—the bulge was distinctly different that the one that covered a distress alarm—Gray coughed in my ear.

"Shit. Fuck. Someone is headed your way."

"What?" I hissed, my temper spiking.

"She's young and dressed so casually, I assumed she would be heading to the records room or somewhere like that. But she got off on the third floor and turned toward Timkins' office."

The judge's suite and courtroom took up a good portion of the left wing on the third floor. "You sure she isn't headed somewhere else?"

"Yeah, brother. She's about to walk into the outer office. Better make yourself invisible until she gets whatever she came for. Probably just left her purse or whatever and will be gone in a minute."

Just in case, I took my gun out of the holster, then stepped into the shadows, close enough to be hidden but with some visibility of the unexpected visitor.

"I can't believe I'm here on a freaking Friday night," a sweet but irritated voice huffed adorably. "Not that I had better plans, but she didn't know that. Okay, that was a little mean. Bingeing with Snowball is a great activity."

She didn't sound convinced, and it curled the corners of my mouth up.

The scent of cinnamon and vanilla suddenly got stronger, and I realized that the small desk out front must have been hers. Fuck, it was making me hungry.

After a second, she sighed, and I nearly stumbled backward when my dick jumped to life. Was that what she would sound like after being thoroughly satisfied in bed?

For fuck's sake! What are you thinking, Lawson?

Apparently, my cock was doing all the thinking. And it only got worse when the lights flipped on and the mystery woman came into view.