Deadly Justice Read Free Page A

she'd been caught off guard by whoever was taking the photo, but her smile mesmerized with its openness and honesty. A deep purple colored blouse beneath the jacket emphasized breasts that would be the envy of any pin-up model.
    It was hard to tell from the picture what color her eyes were, but Carpenter instinctively knew they'd be green. 
    “Who is she?”  Wilson “Gunner” Everett, Carpenter's security and weapons specialist asked, reaching for the picture.  Carpenter barely resisted snatching it off the table, away from the mens' lustful gazes.  This was business.  Hell, he'd never even met the woman.  He had no right to feel possessive.  Everything was about to change, though, as this case, this woman, pointed them straight at Richard Webster. 
    “Her name is Andrea Kirkland.  She's an executive assistant for Lawrence Mitchell of Mitchell International.”
    “What's her connection to Webster?  She's obviously involved or you wouldn't bring her into the equation.”  Trust Jean-Luc to get right to the heart of the matter.  The Cajun former Navy SEAL was his best friend.   His blood brother.  They'd taken an oath while still in school to always have each other's backs.  Carpenter had gone to school with all four of the Boudreau brothers, or as the New Orleans' locals called them, Gator's Boys.  He'd lost touch with most of the folks back home over the years when he'd been undercover.  Everyone except Jean-Luc.  
    It had been a natural fit to put the ex-SEAL in charge of his private security company when he'd founded it three years ago.  Jean-Luc was an independent S.O.B. who didn't deal with authority well, but he didn't have a problem running things for Carpenter—well not much anyway.  Put two strong alpha personalities together, they'd bump heads from time to time.  It came with the territory.  Fortunately, Jean-Luc understood Carpenter would let him have free reign, but he always had the final word.  As long as nobody tried to overstep their boundaries, things ran smoothly.  
    The men on the team understood the hierarchy, and rarely pushed the boundaries.   He could only think of one time, but once was enough when faced with a fire-breathing Cajun dragon. 
    Carpenter had no problem leaving the day-to-day operations in Jean-Luc's capable hands.  Everything except this case.  This one was personal.  Dealing with Richard Webster elevated things to a whole different level.   
    “Two weeks ago, Ms. Andrea Kirkland initiated a transfer of funds to an account held by Richard Webster.  Different name of course, not an alias we'd seen before, and buried beneath so many dummy corporations it was nearly impossible to track, but boy genius over there,” he gestured to Carlisle, “nailed it down.”
    “Are we thinking Ms. Kirkland is working with Webster?”  Nate asked before popping a bite of doughnut into his mouth.  Carpenter shook his head.  Damn, the man was a bottomless pit.  He had no idea how the man put away so much food, but still kept his body trained like a lethal weapon. 
    “That's the sixty-four thousand dollar question.  She's the executive assistant to Mitchell.  There's no record of him knowing Webster, though.”
    “I've heard of him,” Jean-Luc's deep voice rumbled, his Cajun accent coloring his words.  He rarely spoke in these meetings, preferring to listen and observe, gain all the evidence, information, and facts, to make the job efficient and executable with the minimal amount of fuss or interference by outside entities.  Especially those with alphabet names.  Jean-Luc had a real problem with authority figures.
    That didn't mean he didn't keep his thumb on the heartbeat of industry.  He might look and act the droll Southern boy from deep in the Louisiana bayou, but there was a vicious fire breathing dragon underneath the spit and polish portrayal.  One who would swoop in and decimate his enemy while rescuing the damsel in distress without a single