The Cost of Justice Read online

  There might be a handful of low-level officers that still had some grandiose notion of protecting the citizens in their zone. Jess had heard of one or two actually doing their job on very rare occasions. They were most definitely the exception to the rule and would never climb the ranks to a position of higher authority without going along with whatever corruption consumed the rest of their district. Which is exactly what happened every time.

  Either way, they had little effect on the pathetic state of the country. For the most part, a victim going to the police with their problem runs the risk of being further exploited and victimized again by the very people that claimed to protect them. That was just common knowledge, no one risked it.

  If you were targeted, it was either deal with it yourself and hope like hell that you got away with it, or pick up the pieces and pray they didn't come back. The latter was wishful thinking more often than not.

  Justice was raised to be a fighter, a survivor, and well aware of the way the world worked, but even she had learned her lessons the hard way. A mistake that she excused with youth and desperation - and one that she would never make again.

  Justice, or Jess as the waitress knew her, tucked some money behind the counter and stood, chugging the last of her coffee. "Later, Kat."

  The young waitress spun and gave her a warm smile. "See ya, Jess. Stay safe."

  Kat was around Justice's age. But the age gap was exaggerated by the very different ways they lived and the vast amount of bullshit Justice had endured in her twenty-two years. Kat wasn't really a friend. Justice had no friends. She couldn't afford the liability.

  Jess was just a regular at the tiny diner Kat ran trying to provide a meager existence for her little brother. It helped that it was the only diner anywhere in the area. But with extremely limited hours and food options, Jess was probably her best customer with a coffee addiction that most people couldn’t afford.

  More often than not, Jess showed up sporting a new bruise, cut or limp. At first, Kat had tried to pry, but she soon learned that Jess didn't talk about herself.

  Her concerned looks and inquiries were always answered with a wicked smile and some ridiculous comment about a natural disaster, or some rabid animal that was probably long extinct. The closest she ever came to the truth was, “You should see the other guy.”

  Kat watched with admiration as Jess blew out the door without a backward glance. She always walked like that - tromping around with purpose in her heavy black combat boots as if she belonged anywhere she went. Jess didn't ask permission for anything, nor did she need it.

  She always dressed the same, in functional, tight black pants with plenty of pockets and hidden compartments and a simple black top crisscrossed with strips of heavy material. She kept her dark hair tied back, and heavy black eye makeup always drew attention to the look of mischief in her light brown eyes.

  Jess could probably stomp right into an elite black-tie gala in her typical gear and exude enough purpose and confidence to make everyone else feel overdressed. It was an image that she worked hard for, and one that she could never let slip.

  Chapter 4

  The outer blocks of the warehouse district were just as quiet as the deadly streets where the Underground entrance hid but moderately less dangerous. The outcasts still lurked and wandered out from the center of it all, but without the same numbers that made the heart of the district so lethal.

  There was no place left for those unfortunate souls, so they ended up on the outside of civilization continuing their fight to survive, scavenging and stealing whatever they could, and killing each other for supplies or space. They avoided the populated areas, preferring instead to pick off stragglers when they wandered away from the pack - or made the dangerous trip to the Underground.

  Still, people kept their distance. Settling in old neighborhoods away from the abandoned cities, keeping their heads down and grabbing on to whatever existence they could make for themselves. Since Justice wasn’t great with keeping her head down, she preferred having places to crash all over, ensuring no one saw her in one area too often. Most were just drug dens that she’d cleared out and taken over. But her needs were simple, and they worked just fine.

  The place she was heading to had been used in a human trafficking ring as a holding place for their cargo until transports could make periodic pickups. She hadn’t taken down the entire operation. The transport vehicle meant they were big. That or they catered to politicians or the elite. She got the faction in the area, though, including their runner and his vehicle. A luxury she’d had for all of a day before it was stolen.

  It was just as well, she could never have afforded the fuel, and selling it would only have brought unwanted attention her way.

  The Underground had the only other vehicle that she knew of. They transported employees and certain patrons that brought in money one way or another. It was likely how the couple she’d met got in. They wouldn’t have survived the walk she’d made.

  There were probably a few other operations that had cars hidden somewhere as well. But Jess keeping one would have stood out like a monk in the Underground, and she didn’t need another target on her back.

  A scuffle in the alley drew her briefly from her thoughts. She kept walking, minding her own business until the pained cry of a girl caught her attention. Jess didn’t often get involved in trouble that wasn’t hers unless it benefited her with information or money. But the panic in the girl’s voice brought back memories of a different life.

  She’d paused during her internal debate, but forced herself to continue walking. She wasn’t noble or heroic, or some good-hearted schmuck that took on other people's troubles. She had her own problems. But every step laced Jess with guilt. Not that she’d admit that.

  The unmistakable sound of a fist hitting flesh, followed by a raspy cry had her turning back before she could re-think it. They were making way too much noise and someone had to deal with it before they drew unwanted attention. Justice rounded the corner and took in the scene.

  The girl couldn’t have been out of her teens. She had a full bag strapped across her that had probably attracted every outcast she’d passed. Justice rolled her eyes. A bag full of goodies might as well be a sign begging people to rob you.

  Her clothes were dirty, torn, and rather unusual. People typically used whatever they could find, but Jess had to wonder where she’d found them. Her scuffed shoes were slim and flat. The top of her pants had a single tight piece of fabric wrapped around both legs, ending a few inches above her knees - a horrible design flaw.

  The girl held some kind of weapon - a pipe, or crowbar from the looks of it. She was making a valiant, though sloppy, effort to ward off her two attackers. Jess could see at least two more lurkers at the other end of the alley, and she had no doubt more would come if she didn’t end it soon. She pulled a knife from its place on her hip and moved in. All eyes turned to her as she approached.

  Keeping her voice even, she crept closer. “Slowly move this way. Get out of here and don’t come back.”

  The girl gave a shaky nod and side-stepped closer, drawing her attacker's attention again. Justice used the distraction to toss a throwing knife. It sank into the shoulder of the closest body, drawing his attention back to her. He lunged at Jess. The girl ran for the street, making good time despite the restrictive clothing.

  Justice dove out of the way and tackled a second man that had started to chase the girl. By the time she was back on her feet, the lurkers at the other end had closed in. Jess was surrounded, five to one. The only sound to be heard was the girl’s rapid footsteps echoing through the empty streets, growing fainter at an impressive pace. Yep, she was on her own. And no doubt more would be coming if this didn't end quickly.

  Justice let out a breath and twirled the knife in her hand. Guns and ammo were too expensive for the average person. They were only regularly carried by high-level criminals that could afford both the bullets and the cops they attracted with the noise. Jess had
stolen a couple, but with only a handful of bullets and no cop on her payroll, she didn’t carry them unless she was heading into a situation that specifically called for it. The situation was calling. Screaming actually, and she was really wishing she’d grabbed one now. It was only a matter of time before she was mobbed with all the noise that girl had been making.

  Justice chose the target blocking her exit and tossed a few throwing knives before fighting her way past and behind him. She held a larger knife to his throat, feeling slightly better once she no longer had an enemy at her back. The shifting shadows in the distance quickly snuffed out her little bit of triumph. She was about to be truly fucked.

  The other four closed in, her hostage making no difference to them. Seeing that it was pointless, she slammed the heavy hilt of her knife into his temple and dropped him to free her hands. She stepped back into a fighting stance.

  No one moved.

  Justice would have liked to claim responsibility for their sudden hesitation. Being seen as a formidable opponent was something she’d been working at for years. But four sets of eyes were now looking right past her, frozen with fear. So much for not having an enemy at her back.

  Almost as one, they took off in the other direction. Deja vu coupled with icy awareness to dance down her spine and she forced herself to suppress a shiver. Nothing good could have caused that reaction in a group that lives and breathes violence. Swallowing hard, she straightened and turned to face the new threat.

  He stood in the opening of the alley with that same unnatural stillness that was both alarming and creepy as fuck. Like Jess, he was dressed all in black, and probably for the same reason. Wide leather cuffs adorned each wrist, and swirling tattoos covered his arms, flowing like water in some places, curling like smoke in others and cut through with flames and lightning bolts.

  He definitely gave off vibes that screamed of danger. And sure, he was tall and muscular, but seeing someone so young scare the piss out of those that lurked these streets was unheard of. Hell, anyone scaring them was unheard of.

  Creepy guy's black hair fell across his forehead partially obscuring his piercing blue eyes. They weren't a friendly blue like Kat’s - not even close. His steely grey-blue gaze was dead, cold - completely emotionless. Empty. Justice didn't scare easy, but this guy sent chills down even her spine.

  Forcing an unimpressed expression, she stooped to pull her throwing knife from the body on the ground. Not wanting to be caught in a vulnerable position, she stood quickly and headed out of the alley, slowing when she realized she was alone. The creeper was gone from one moment to the next, no sign of him down any street.

  He’s just one of the outcasts, she convinced herself as she headed to her hideout. They clearly had a new guy taking over their streets, but that thought didn’t bring any comfort. Creepy guy somehow found a way to control the outcasts through fear. Jess couldn’t think of a single scenario where that was a good thing.

  Chapter 5

  His name was Fitz. The list of enemies he’d made might almost be impressive if it wasn’t for the number of victims he’d left in his wake. As long as he’d stuck to killing and fucking over those whose families couldn’t afford retribution, he’d been safe. But Fitz had gotten greedy and finally messed with someone that could pay the contract on his head. Justice wouldn’t feel bad about her hand in making it happen. Even with the shit payment, it was worth it.

  Her knees cramped from squatting on the rooftop for so long, but her discomfort had finally paid off. The info Archer had given her said that Fitz was holed up deep in the heart of Devil’s Riot gang territory - and that he never left.

  Archer knew exactly what he was doing when he’d given her the job. Anyone else would have been forced to pose as a new member to get close enough to take Fitz out, but Devil’s Riot was well known, and there was no way in hell they’d let a woman in unless she was being passed around for their guys to enjoy. There wasn’t a chance in hell Jess was doing that, and Arch knew it. He’d given her an impossible job so he could blacklist her once she failed.

  She had no idea why the men she dealt with acted like women couldn’t handle shit. Unless they were using their penis to club a target over the head, there was nothing they could do that she couldn’t. She just had to be a little more creative.

  She’d been spending hours every day for weeks stalking their territory, waiting for her chance. After far more of a time investment than the measly pay was worth, she finally had eyes on her man. Fitz was meeting with someone just outside the borders she’d become much too familiar with. A smile tipped her lips and she glanced up at the sky. It was such a lovely day, the haze of pollution thick as ever in the practically poisonous air. A casual stroll down the street was definitely in order.

  She didn't bother to hide her eye-roll at the cat-calling, but when the dumb ass associate had the nerve to grab her wrist as she approached, she decided to teach him some manners first. Twisting her wrist, she broke his grip and latched onto his instead, yanking his arm out to the side and angling it to put pressure on the wrong side of his elbow. With the threat to snap the joint the wrong way, she quickly dropped him to his knees.

  Seeing a tiny girl take the man down had Fitz letting out an amused snort, but he made no move to help.

  "When will men learn to keep their hands to themselves, or that catcalling is not attractive? It’s not a hard concept. Try just introducing yourself before you comment on a girls ass,” she teased, putting more pressure on his elbow joint. “Go on, try it out. What’s your name?” She added pressure until the idiot finally grunted out a name. “Was that so hard? So nice to meet you, Eddie, my name is Justice.”

  The smile fell from Fitz’s face and he reached for his gun. Excitement rose up in Jess's gut.

  "You’ve heard of me," she beamed, yanking Eddie to his feet in front of her with the help of her knife at his throat. "You wouldn't believe how long that took. Seriously, like a long time. It’s my fault, really. I keep forgetting to leave people alive. Makes it kinda hard to become famous."

  "Famous ain’t gonna mean shit if you’re dead."

  Jess smiled and whipped her knife out in a flash, sinking it deep into his bicep. His gun went off, shooting Eddie and skimming her side. Searing pain sliced the skin along her ribs, and warmth ran down her side, seeping into her shirt. That was not how she’d planned that. She shoved the dead weight of her hostage forward into Fitz and used the distraction to get out of his line of fire.

  Fitz dumped Eddie to the ground as his eyes focused somewhere over her shoulder. The color drained from his face, wariness taking the place of his anger. Dammit, that was starting to get old.

  Justice didn't waste any time asking questions. She swung inside his reach knocking the gun outward and smashed her elbow into his face with a satisfying crunch. Blood gushed from his nose, making their fight a little messier than she preferred. This was why all of her clothes were black.

  During their struggle, Jess managed a glance in the direction she previously stood. A shiver ran down her spine when she met the glacial eyes of the man from the other night. The cast-offs didn’t wander that far, nor did they blend in with the general population. Which made him a whole different kind of stalker. Her eyes narrowed, aiming a glare in his direction. Why the hell did this guy keep showing up?

  The distraction cost her a headbutt to the face. Her cheekbone throbbed, and her eyes watered. Damn, that was a rookie mistake. Good thing Archer wasn’t there to see it. With her attention back on the fight, she managed to get Fitz on the ground while she rested a boot over his groin and aimed his gun at his chest. The job was just a kill, but since she had him at a disadvantage, she might as well try to get some information.

  "This is a really nice gun, mind if I borrow it?” she teased. “And how about you tell me who you work with while you're at it."

  "You’re going to pay for this," he growled. Jess sighed and stepped down a little harder causing a panicky grunt. "We work for lots of peo
ple. Anyone that’s payin’!"

  "So you have lots of connections then. Anyone kidnapping instead of killing?"

  "Haven't worked any kidnappings."

  Jess stepped down even harder, smiling at his pained squeal.

  "I got no damn idea! We do hits, move some drugs, make good on threats. That’s it!”

  Jess frowned. "Fine. Who's responsible for the Niyazine dealing?"

  "Devils ain’t got nothing to do with that," he gasped as the pressure on his groin steadily increased.

  She clicked her tongue in disappointment. "Not what I asked."

  "I don't know! Never seen that shit anywhere."

  Jess let out a heavy sigh and glanced back to the end of the alley where the creepy guy had disappeared. "Who was that guy?"

  He pursed his lips, and another solid nudge of Jess's boot was required to get him talking again.

  "I don't fuckin’ know, I only know not to fuck with him. He works for someone important, no one knows who. Got a reputation. When he comes around you get out of his way or he'll remove you. Permanently." And he’d set his sights on her. Great.