Justice In The Shadows

“Ohh,” Sandy gasped, jerking nearly upright, both hands on Mitchell’s head now, holding her close, just holding on. “Dell…Dell, I’m gonna come.”

Mitchell swiftly forgot her own needs, bringing both hands beneath Sandy’s hips, holding her fast as she carried her higher. Breath suspended, she followed the rise and fall of Sandy’s hips, timed her strokes to the pulse beating between her lips, and thrilled to the sensation of her lover climaxing in her mouth.

Sandy grabbed a handful of Mitchell’s hair and tugged weakly. “C’mere.” She edged one leg between Mitchell’s thighs. “Oh, you’re really wet.”

“Yeah. You make me so hot.” Mitchell turned her face to Sandy’s neck and kissed her. She wanted to come, but she never wanted the excitement to end, so she held very still, holding back. “You feel so good.”

Sandy put her mouth to Mitchell’s ear and whispered, “Come on my leg.”

The words shot through Mitchell like a bolt of lightening, triggering her nerve endings, everything going off at once. Her control shattered, and she came with a shout.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Sandy soothed, stroking the length of Mitchell’s back. “You’re so sexy, Dell. God.”

“You kill me,” Mitchell mumbled.

“Mmm. I like that.” Sandy tightened her hold, feeling at once incredibly strong and incredibly vulnerable. Mitchell did scary things to her.

But when Mitchell sighed, “Yeah, me, too,” all Sandy really felt was happy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Will you stop fidgeting?”

“It tickles.”

“Aww.” Sandy drew the brush along Mitch’s jaw. “I bet you didn’t give Jasmine a hard time.”

“Jasmine wasn’t standing between my legs.” Mitch shifted on the stool, and Sandy pushed closer, making Mitch gasp.

“Good thing,” Sandy muttered. “She’s way too hot.”

“Not interested.”

“Shut up, Mitch. You’ll ruin my line.” Sandy switched to a pencil and widened the already dark brows. “So, where you goin’?”

“Jasmine is taking me to the Troc. Depending on how things go, I might go out clubbing with some of the kings later. The sooner the better, Frye says.”

Sandy reached down and gently squeezed Mitch’s crotch. “Just make sure you don’t spend it anywhere else tonight.”

Mitch got wet and hard. Shit. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna spend it right here.”

“Mmm. I can do fast.”

“I can’t.”

“Liar.” Sandy reached down between his legs again.

“Not right now, anyhow.” Mitch grabbed her hand. “Will you give me a break?”

Sandy laughed again. “No freakin’ way.” She kissed him, seriously this time, until she felt him start to rock against her, then she stepped back. “See ya later then, stud.”

“Jeez, you’re a tease.”

“Mmm, you complainin’?”

“You hear me complaining?” Mitch murmured, sliding off the stool and pulling her close. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. Man, I want to.”

“Sure. So go already, since you’re no good for anything else right now.” She kissed him one last time to soften the words.

“I’ll be good later.”

“Promises, promises.” But she was smiling as he walked out the door.

Jasmine wore figure-hugging deep red slacks, a scoop top, and a short shiny black vinyl jacket. “Sandy did a great job. You look great. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever gonna be.”

“You okay on the background stuff we reviewed?” Jasmine hooked a hand around Mitch’s forearm as they walked. “I’ll be with you tonight, and we’ll just hang out. Tomorrow I’m performing though, so you’ll be on your own for a while then.”

“I can handle it.”

Jasmine slid her arm around Mitch’s waist as they reached the door of the club. “I have no doubt.”

Immediately inside the door a burly guy in a tight black T-shirt and black jeans stood with arms folded across his massive chest.

“Hi, Ronnie.”

“Hi, Jas.” He leaned over and delicately kissed her cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Ronnie, this is Mitch.”

He held out his hand. “Yo.”

“Hey,” Mitch said, shaking the huge hand which was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Is Kennie here?” Jasmine asked.

“Sure. He’s in the lounge with a few of the other guys.”

Jasmine took Mitch’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Mitch took a deep breath. Show time.

The lounge was a paneled, low-ceilinged space with a sofa, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table and a pool table. Two drag kings stood, cue sticks in hand, intently studying the lie of the balls on the faded green felt. A third sat with his booted feet propped up on the table, watching the game, a beer bottle in one hand. All three were dressed in jeans, Tshirts, and boots, and all had the smooth-faced, androgynous features so typical of drag kings. One had a small trim mustache that looked real, one had convincing sideburns, and all of them were flat-chested.

Mitch couldn’t help a quick glance at their crotches, wondering how he measured up. Nothing too obvious. Guess I’m okay there.

The seated guy rose as they walked around the pool table toward him. He was Mitch’s height and a few pounds heavier with a small tattoo, a kanji symbol from the looks of it, low on the side of his neck.

“Jasmine! Hey, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Jasmine dipped her head and kissed him on the mouth. “Hi, Kennie.” She tugged Mitch forward. “Ken, this is Mitch. Mitch, Ken Dewar, the troupe leader of the Front Street Kings.”

“Hey,” Ken said, extending his hand.

The drag king with the mustache snorted. “Yeah, make him sound important, why don’t ya.”

“Aww,” Jasmine soothed. “We all know how special you are, Dino.”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned. “Hiya, I’m Dino.”

“Mitch.” Mitch shook hands all around. The third guy Mitch recognized from the Front Street Kings’s website. Phil E. Pride.

“Mitch just moved up here from DC. I thought you guys could show him around.”

Ken lifted a shoulder and looked Mitch over. “You perform, Mitch?”

Mitch shook his head. “Nope. No talent. At least not on stage.”

That drew a laugh.

“What brings you up here?”

“A girl.”

Ken raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jasmine.

“Oh, not me, Ken.” Jasmine smiled sweetly. “You know I adore every one of you, but you’re way too much men for me…” They all laughed. “And I am oh so already taken.”

“I keep hoping,” Ken said.

“I’m going to go talk to some of the girls,” Jasmine said. She squeezed Mitch’s arm. “I’ll see you later, stud.”

“Okay.”

Mitch took the seat opposite Ken in one of the lumpy chairs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I haven’t been here very long and I’m trying to get a sense of the scene. It’s tough, you know…on your own.”

“Most kings hang here, because of our shows. There’s seven of us in the troupe, and maybe that many regulars who aren’t performers.” Ken reached for his beer. “You looking for a job?”

“I could use one. I’ve got a straight day gig, but it doesn’t pay much.” Mitch grinned. “Like I said, I’m not looking to perform. I used to be a bouncer, and I can do almost anything around a bar.”

“Ought o be able to find something around here then.” Ken propped his feet back up on the coffee table. “So—you’re friends with Jasmine.”

“Yep.” Mitch waited, sensing Ken considering that fact.

“You interested in the club scene or is the thing with your girl serious?”

“It’s serious,” Mitch replied. “But I’m not married.”

And just like that, he was in.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Sandy.” Sandy turned her back on the guy at the end of the bar who was giving her the once over. “Lucy said maybe you could put me with this movie guy to make some fast cash.”

Trudy, the thin Asian girl from the video, looked away. “Lucy sent you?”

Sandy nodded, then swiveled on her seat as a hand stroked her shoulder. It was the guy from the end of the bar. “Buzz off, will ya?”

“What’sa matter, honey? You too busy or something?”

The guy moved his hand lower, brushing the side of her breast.

Sandy’s eyes narrowed and, without moving anything but her arm, she slid a hand up the inside of his leg and closed her fingers around his balls. Then she squeezed, gently. “Well…”

He smiled.

She kept squeezing.

His smile turned to surprise, and then his eyes suddenly widened in shock. “Jesus,” he whispered desperately. “Let go.”

“I’m trying to have a conversation here.”

“Okay, okay.” His knees buckled, and he grabbed the edge of the bar. “Ah, Christ…please.”

His eyes started to tear, and satisfied, Sandy released her hold. “Goodbye now.”

“Bitch,” he croaked, but his voice lacked any venom.

The girl with Sandy watched the stranger limp carefully away. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll be waiting outside for you?”

“Most of the time they’re too drunk by then to do anything, but I’ll go out the back just in case. So—can you help me out?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Look, if you do, I’ll split the money with you.”

Trudy’s eyes widened. “No way.”

“It’d be worth it to me. I’m tired of blowing slime balls like that guy over there for small change.”

“Yeah, you got that right.” Trudy picked at a nail. After a minute, she said, “I’ll ask around.”

“Hey, thanks.” Sandy tried not to look as happy as she felt. I earned my money tonight, Frye. “So let me give you my number, ‘k?”

When Sandy left the bar on Delaware Avenue it was almost four in the morning. Ordinarily, she would have strolled over to the strip on Locust and tricked for another two hours in the dark alleys or front seats of parked cars. Tonight she headed home, hoping that Mitch, or Dell, would be there waiting.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Rebecca groaned and reached for the phone. “Frye.”

“It’s Sloan. I have to talk to you.”

“What time is it?”

“Five.”

“How important?”

“Very.”

“Ah, Christ. Okay.” Rebecca sat up and pushed the sheets aside. “Your place?”

“That’ll work. I’ll wake Jason.”

“You need the rest of the team?”

“It can wait til later.”

“Am I gonna like this?”

“Maybe.”

Catherine waited until Rebecca put down the phone. Voice fuzzy with sleep, she asked, “Everything okay?”

“Sloan has something.”

“Call me later.” She burrowed back into the pillow.

Rebecca smiled, walked around to Catherine’s side of the bed, and leaned down to kiss her cheek. Lips close to her lover’s ear, she whispered, “What’s the matter? Something tire you out last night?”

“Mmm.” Eyes closed, Catherine smiled at the memory. “Something.”

Mitch stood uncertainly before the door to 3B, listening intently for any sound from the other side.

“Sandy?” he called softly, tapping very gently. He waited a minute, then turned to go down the hall to his own apartment. The door behind him opened.

“Hey.”

Mitch spun around, heart racing. “Hi.”

“Where ya goin’?”

“I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Why not?”

“Well, you know…it’s late. Early…whatever.”

Sandy wore only a pair of dark string bikini underwear and a tank top. She leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, her eyes moving slowly over Mitch’s body. He looked even better than she’d remembered in his black T-shirt and leathers. “So, you wanna come in?”

Mitch nodded, trying not to look as hungry for her as he felt. “Yeah.”

“How was your night?” She didn’t move.

“Long.” He moved to the opposite side of the threshold and stretched an arm up along the frame, tilting his body toward hers, but not touching her. And inch separated them, and he could feel her heat across the chasm, penetrating his clothes, soaking into his skin. His insides twisted he wanted her so bad.

“Did you go out with the boys?” Sandy asked casually as she lazily drew her fingers across her bare abdomen.

“Uh-huh.” Mitch’s throat was dry, his eyes riveted on the slow caress. “We…uh…hit a few places.”

“Did you score?” This time there was a slight edge to the question.

Softly, Mitch replied, “Not yet.”

Sandy reached out, pushed her fingers beneath the waistband of his pants, and yanked him into the room. “Smart answer.”

She swung the door closed and then pushed him back against it with the weight of her body glued to his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her mouth to his, and rubbed the tiny square of black fabric covering her groin over the swelling in his crotch.

“I’ve been so hot for you,” she breathed against his neck. “So…crazy…hot.”

Mitch cupped Sandy’s butt and held her as she rode him, letting her have…take…do…whatever she wanted. She was going to make him come pretty soon just from the pressure of her thrusting hips, but he figured she knew that, because he couldn’t help groaning with pleasure and need.

“Unzip your fly,” Sandy gasped, pulling his T-shirt from his pants. She raked her nails down his abdomen, her thighs braced against his. Then she pulled her tank top off as he opened his pants for her. She looked down, saw the full white jockeys. She looked up and met questioning blue eyes, so filled with longing it made her heart ache. Gently, she took Mitch’s hands and brought them to her breasts. Moaning softly, she closed her eyes and bit her lip as the first touch of his fingers against her hard nipples sent pleasure streaking deep into her core.

“Oh,” Sandy moaned, straddling a rock hard thigh and sliding her slick skin over the cool leather. “You make me want to come so bad.”

“Sandy,” Mitch whispered, “I want—oh, god…” He leaned his head back against the door and fought to stay standing as Sandy reached into his pants. He felt the force of her fingers on the outside of his underwear, gripping him in her palm and slowly, rhythmically squeezing.

“Can you feel that?” Sandy murmured. “Baby?”

“Yes,” Mitchell groaned as the insistent pressure massaged her clitoris.

“Enough to come?” Sandy watched the muscles in Mitchell’s neck strain and a pulse race erratically the length of her throat.

“Oh, yeah…Sandy…” Mitchell gave a small cry as Sandy removed her hand and the tantalizing pressure disappeared. “Please…I’m almost there.”

“Next time,” Sandy reached beneath everything inside Mitchell’s briefs until she found skin, then slid a finger on either side of Mitchell’s hard clitoris, “wear your working gear.”

Mitchell couldn’t answer. Sandy’s fingers, tugging and stroking her quivering, poised-to-explode flesh, were quickly bringing her to orgasm. With her last bit of will, she pushed her hand down Sandy’s belly and inside her bikinis.

“Oh,” Sandy cried in surprise, instantly ready to come. “Dell…Dell, put your hand inside me. Oh…hurry, baby.”

Shuddering, Mitchell climaxed as she slipped gently inside Sandy’s warm depths. Hips bucking, she wrapped her free arm around Sandy’s waist and held them both upright as Sandy buried her face in the curve of Mitchell’s neck, clinging to her and crying out her pleasure, over and over.

In the midst of her orgasm, Sandy instinctively followed the lift of Mitchell’s hips and entered her, pushing Mitchell to yet another, deeper, climax.

“Oh god, Sandy,” Mitchell moaned, “you’re so good…so good.”

“Dell.” Sandy rested her palm against Mitchell’s cheek and stroked her gently. Carefully, she withdrew her fingers from between Mitchell’s thighs and immediately wanted to return. “That was so…so…”

“Yeah. It was.” Mitchell sighed and opened her eyes. She looked down into Sandy’s sated face and kissed her gently. “You ready for bed?”

“Mmm. Okay.”

“I should shower,” Mitchell said tiredly. “I smell like a fucking barroom.”

“I don’t care,” Sandy replied, taking Mitchell’s hand and pulling her toward the open sofa-bed. “Shower later. I want to go to sleep with you naked next to me, and you just wiped me out.”

“Me?” Mitchell laughed. “Jesus, you were the one who jumped me.”

Sandy smirked. “I did, didn’t I?”

“I just came from having another look at Flanagan’s computers,” Sloan announced. “Looks like I fucked up in more ways than one the other night. I missed something.”

Jason sat up straight. “On the back-trace to Henry?”

Sloan shook her head. “On the back door itself.”

“What, there isn’t one?” Rebecca asked sharply, fatigue coupled with her lack of expertise in a critical area of the investigation making her very short on patience.

“Oh, there is one.” Sloan grimaced. “In fact, the whole department’s system is so wormy it looks like Swiss cheese.”

“Just give me the bottom line,” Rebecca snapped. “It is it Henry or not?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Christ.” Rebecca wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or to tear Sloan’s head off. “God damn it, how could you have made that kind of mistake? Jesus, we could have blown this whole case!”

“Sergeant,” Jason interrupted quietly, “maybe we should hear her out?”

Rebecca spun in his direction, but just before she let loose with another string of invective, she caught sight of the shadows under his eyes. Then she took a good look at Sloan, who’d been up all night. Again. The cybersleuth looked worn out, although she was making an attempt to stand tall. “Ah, hell.” She leaned back and shrugged her shoulders, forcing herself to settle down. “Explain it to me.”

“Networks, especially big ones like those that link municipal services, have all kinds of maintenance functions that run in the background constantly. A lot of it happens automatically—preprogrammed updates and the like.” Sloan waited, gauging Rebecca’s reactions. At a nod from the detective, she continued. “There have to be avenues for that work—that information—to travel to individual computers, and the way that happens is via file transfer ports, or entry ways.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said. “I got it.”

“Those ports are always open and provide a way into a network—in essence, they’re huge potential highways for hackers. That’s how the Blaster and So.big worms spread so fast. So,” Sloan said, “all someone has to do is bring in an infected computer, connect it to the system, and launch the worm. Some worms don’t even have to be attached to email or any kind of file, so the user never even suspects. Just—boom—information will start pouring back to the source computer, or anywhere else the hacker programs it to go. Want a password? No problem. Want to read someone else’s mail? Have a seat. Want root access to alter or erase entire files? Tougher, but with a good code writer creating the worm, possible.”

“And that’s what happened?” Rebecca asked.

Sloan nodded. “Someone inserted a worm into the system at the PPD, and it has infected any number of computers. I missed it the first time, because it’s a tiny bit of code piggybacked onto a huge file and when I saw that log-in hack, I went off in another direction. Henry’s computer is one that was hit, which is how his password was usurped. I don’t know how many others there are, but there could be any number.”

“You’re sure it’s not Henry?”

Sloan shrugged. “I couldn’t find anything in his files to suggest he’s dirty, and my guess is that he’s just a fall guy. But someone is able to read and possibly even modify just about every bit of data in the entire system.”

Rebecca rubbed her face, drank more coffee, and digested the information. The thought made her stomach heave. Entire cases were built on lab reports, witness accounts, and other information stored in the system. Personnel files, home addresses, health records…the list was endless. And Sandy’s name is in there now, too. All spelled out and officially listed as my CI. “This is bad.”

Sloan and Jason were silent.

“So, we’re nowhere?” Rebecca looked from one to the other, working to beat back the hopeless feeling.

“No, we’re definitely somewhere.” Sloan’s eyes lit up. “I know where the worm came from.”

Jason whistled. “You have been busy.”

“I screwed up the other night.” Sloan’s eyes were hard, her voice like granite. “That could have cost us all.”

“Who?” Rebecca’s heart raced. Name. Just give me a name.

“Not who, yet,” Sloan advised. “But I’ve got where. It came from a computer in the District Attorney’s office.”

“A name,” Rebecca said quietly. “I need a name.”

Sloan and Jason spoke simultaneously. “We’ll get you one.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“What’s that?” Sandy mumbled, pulling the thin blanket over her head and burrowing deeper into Mitchell’s side.

“Shit! My beeper.” Mitchell jumped from the bed and almost fell over Sandy’s platform sandals. “Mitchell,” she said after a few seconds. “Uh-huh. Okay…sure.” She put the phone down and stood up, dizzy with fatigue and hunger. “I gotta get over to Sloan’s.”

“Now?” Sandy’s voice was muffled by the pillow over her head.

“First I gotta shower. I smell like I spent the night in the drunk tank.”

Sandy stumbled into the bathroom in Mitchell’s wake and crowded into the tiny shower stall with her. Eyes closed, she put her arms around Mitchell from behind and rested her cheek against her back. “Fuck, Dell, you worked all night.”

“Yeah,” Mitchell muttered as she let the spray hit her in the face. The water was still cold and the warmth of Sandy’s body felt good against hers.

“Frye there?”

“I dunno.” Mitchell doused her whole head in the lukewarm water. “Why?”

“I wanna talk to her.”

“You got something?” Mitchell asked, waking up quickly now.

Sandy stood with her head back, eyes closed, desultorily working up the lather in her short blond hair. “Maybe.”

“You didn’t say anything last night.”

“We were fucking, remember?” Sandy yawned and edged Mitchell aside to stand under the water.

“Yeah.” Mitchell grabbed her around the waist and kissed her neck. “I recall it was spectacular.”

“It was.” Suds-free, Sandy threw her arms around Mitchell’s neck and kissed her, rubbing her wet skin against Mitchell’s. “Mmm, you feel so good.”

Mitchell tightened her hold, running her tongue over Sandy’s lips and into her mouth. Somehow they ended up against the wall, legs entwined, bucking and groaning and groping each other. Mitchell yanked her head back, panting. “I don’t have time!”

“What?” Sandy gasped unbelievingly. She grabbed Mitchell’s hand and tugged it between her own thighs. “You don’t have a minute? Feel me.” She rocked against Mitchell’s palm. “Come on, baby. Touch me.”

Time lost all meaning as Mitchell eased her fingers into the heat and promise of her lover’s desire. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, slowly pushing deeper into the welcoming folds.

Sandy arched her back and threaded her fingers into Mitchell’s hair, claiming her mouth with bruising intensity as the sensation of being filled spread though her belly. Never, never had anything—anyone—touched her like this. “You make me feel so alive,” she whimpered, her hips beginning to lift with the first ripple of orgasm.

Stomach taut, legs trembling, Sandy held on to the one solid thing in her world, helpless to do anything but surrender to the desire she both needed and feared. Slowly, the rolling contractions stopped and she could breathe again. “I’m…like…addicted to you or something. I can’t stop wanting you to do that to me.”

“What?” Mitchell murmured. “Make you come?”

“Uh-uh,” Sandy replied, cupping Mitchell’s breast and toying with her nipple. “Making me come out of my mind.”

“Sandy, honey.” Mitchell laughed shakily, easing Sandy out of the stream of water and backing away. “I have to go.”

“What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“You are?”

Sandy looked just a little worried, and Mitchell shook her head. “No, I’m stone-hard, and I’d probably come if you touched me for ten seconds, but—”

“But work’s more important?” There was more than a bit of ire in Sandy’s voice. “Right?”

“No, I just can’t come while imagining Frye’s face if I’m any later.”

“Oh.” Sandy reached for a towel. “I can see that. So let’s go already. Jeez.”

When Mitchell got off the elevator with Sandy, the first person she saw was Jason.

“Where’s Sloan?” she asked when Jason swiveled in his chair to greet them.

“Rebecca sent her to bed.”

“Lucky her,” Sandy grumbled, squinting in the bright sunlight. “Jesus, it’s not even noon and we—”

Mitchell coughed and Jason grinned.

“Just get to sleep, did we?” Jason asked archly.

“Who said anything about sleeping?” Sandy tossed back.

“Sandy,” Mitchell groaned.

Jason sighed. “Sorry, Dell, but I need help. Frye wants these backgrounds done yesterday, and I can’t run them all myself.”

“I gotta go talk to Frye,” Sandy announced as she walked away.

Jason and Mitchell mumbled goodbyes, then Jason confided, “Sloan traced a worm back to the DA’s office, so we’re looking at the two ADA’s and the judge for being our inside person.”

“Okay.”

“How did Mitch do last night?”

Mitchell glanced across the room to where Sandy stood talking to Frye. “Depends on how you look at it.”

Jason glanced over and raised an eyebrow. “Things looked pretty good with Kennie and the others.”

“That was fine. It was later.” Mitchell stared straight ahead at the monitor. Data scrolled by, and she watched it, automatically shifting through the figures. “This is between us, right?”

Jason’s eyes grew dark. “Dell, what happened?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly. “We went to Ziggies, which is just what we’d hoped for.”

“And?”

“Too soon to tell.” Mitchell forced a grin. “But I’m set to go out again tonight after your show.”

Jason studied her intently, then looked at the group across the room. Watts was talking, Sandy was gesturing emphatically, and Rebecca was shaking her head in a vehement negative motion. He kept his voice low. “Did you sleep with someone. Is that it?”

“No!” Mitchell glanced at Sandy. “But what if…what if something happens, and I have to do…something?”

“Like sex?”

Mitchell nodded.

“No one expects you to do anything you don’t want to do.” He leaned forward, patted her thigh. “Draw a line, Dell. Whatever you can live with.”

“What if I get pushed into a corner, and I have to go along to save my cover?” she asked miserably. “Jesus, Jase—I think Sandy would kill me.”

He laughed. “I think you’re right. Maybe Mitch had better keep that kind of thing just between us boys.” He looked up. “Speaking of Sandy, here comes the team.”

“Time to talk,” Rebecca announced. “Sandy has a proposition.”

Mitchell rose, a question on her lips, but Sandy walked by without looking in her direction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Finally,” Rebecca said, “we’ve got a direct link to the porn ring, at least the part making the videos. Now, we need to work this angle as hard as we can.”

As Rebecca outlined the newest plan, Mitchell clamped her jaws tightly together and stared straight ahead. Her hands were balled into tight fists beneath the table and bile churned in her gut. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Letting Sandy work a sting on the guys who were running the live sex videos? It would be like sending a cadet into the front lines of a skirmish. It was crazy. And Mitchell was scared. Scared right down to her toes. If something happens to her…

“The first meet will most likely just be for a talk,” Rebecca continued. “Hopefully Sandy will get a location and a time for the video shoot from that.”

“What about a wire?” Watts interjected. “It wouldn’t hurt to have this guy on tape setting up the job .”

“Not a bad idea.” Rebecca looked Sandy. “What do you think?”

Sandy shrugged. “Depends on how big it is, and where I need to put it.” Watts sniggered, and she gave him a cutting look. “I don’t, you know, wear a whole lot of clothes most of the time. It would look funny if I was all of a sudden covered up.”

Mitchell couldn’t stand it any longer. “What’s the point of her wearing a wire if we can’t monitor what’s going on? There’s no way anyone is going to be able to cover this meet.” She finally looked at Sandy. “You’ll be out there on your own.”

“Officer,” Rebecca said quietly. She wasn’t entirely happy with the idea herself, but Officer Mitchell appeared to be having major difficulties with Sandy’s new role. Before the young officer could say something that Rebecca would not be able to overlook, she softly said, “This is a command decision. If you’re having problems working on this team, I can have you reassigned.”

“No, ma’am,” Mitchell said, biting off the words. “No problem.”

“Good.” Rebecca worked her shoulders to ease some of the tension, then she looked at Sandy. “If Trudy or anyone else contacts you, I want you to at least try to postpone the meet until you can call me. Watts will fit you out with a wire—”

“Uh-uh. No freakin’ way is he doing it.”

“Aw, I can’t believe you’d say no to a little fun.” Watts grinned. “Believe me, you’d like it.”

“I don’t think your heart could take it.”

“As long as I live long enough to slip it up—”

“Shut up, Watts.” Mitchell said the words quietly, calmly, as she turned in her seat to face him.

He stared at her in surprise. There was something cold and lethal in her expression.

“Dell—” Sandy’s voice was soft, gentle.

“Mitchell, you’re dismissed. Wait in the other room.” Rebecca didn’t even spare a glance in Mitchell’s direction as Mitchell stood abruptly and walked from the room.

“Let’s go, officer.” Rebecca turned and headed for the elevator.

Mitchell rose from the chair where she had been sitting motionless for thirty interminable minutes and followed into the elevator without a word. When they reached streetside, Rebecca turned right and began walking toward the river. Mitchell fell into step.

“We have a problem,” Rebecca said flatly as they crossed Front Street at Market.

Mitchell said nothing. She knew what was coming. Another disciplinary action. And this time it would mean the end of her career.

“What’s going on with you and Sandy?”

“I’m in love with her.” Mitchell couldn’t see any point in lying. Not any longer.

“That’s just terrific.” Rebecca sighed. Silently, she led the way onto the concrete footbridge which arched over Delaware Avenue to Penn’s Landing, climbed to the top, and stopped. “What if I ordered you to choose between Sandy and the job?”

“I’d quit.”

“Christ,” Rebecca muttered. She turned her back to the wall, leaned a hip against the stone, and faced Mitchell. “You’ve got the makings of an exemplary officer in almost every way—you’re intelligent, dedicated, trustworthy.” She didn’t add brave, but she believed it.

“Thank you, sergeant.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“But you’ve got a very serious weakness, Officer Mitchell. Your temper. You were insubordinate back there, and it’s not the first time. I’ve let it slide before, but I can’t do that now.”

“I understand, ma’am.” Jesus, just tell me I’m out. Just say it.

“I don’t think you do.” Rebecca watched Mitchell carefully. “Ordinarily, a little bit of temper isn’t a bad thing. You need that fire burning inside to face danger without flinching. Do you understand?”

Mitchell thought about going down the alley in the dark, in the rain, alone, barely able to see an inch in front of her face. Knowing that whoever was waiting was probably bigger, probably stronger, and probably armed. But she’d heard a woman scream, and that had made her angry. It was the anger as much as her sense of duty that had carried her into that alley. Softly, she answered, “Yes, ma’am. I understand.”

“But a fire you can’t control will eat you up, and something’s eating you up now.”

Mitchell said nothing. Her insides rolled, and for a minute, she feared she might vomit.

“You need to take yourself off the team if you can’t deal with what Sandy is doing.”

“Aren’t I off already?” Mitchell looked at Rebecca, confusion in her eyes.

“That depends. I can’t tell you who to sleep with. I can’t tell you who to love.” Rebecca looked past Mitchell to a ship that slowly made its way into the port of Philadelphia. She thought about Catherine, and how having Catherine in her life had made her a better cop because her own fires consumed less of her now. “I can tell you that if you can’t give her up, you’re going to have to learn to live with who she is.” Rebecca turned her gaze back to Mitchell’s face. “And what she does.”

“I’m trying.”

“Not hard enough.”

Mitchell nodded.

“You need to sort this out, in a hurry. I can’t order you to, but I think maybe you need to talk to Dr. Rawlings.”

“I want to be on this team more than anything in my life, except being with Sa—”

“I got that the first time, Mitchell,” Rebecca snapped. “Stop telling me things I don’t want to know about.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Mitchell straightened. “I’ll talk to Dr. Rawlings.”

“Your business.” Rebecca held Mitchell’s eyes. “You lose it one more time and you’re gone. I’ll put it in your file, and they’ll bury you somewhere until you quit from sheer boredom.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rebecca nodded and turned toward back toward Old City. “Let’s go. Jason says he has work for you.”

“Thank you, sergeant. I hope I—”

“Don’t thank me, Mitchell. Just get me a lead, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’m on it.”

At the corner of Front and Arch, Rebecca spied the thin blond in the short leather skirt, shiny black faux-motorcycle jacket, and calf high, stack-heeled boots lounging against a light pole. Her face betrayed nothing but ennui, but her eyes were alive and riveted on Mitchell’s face. Rebecca sighed and glanced sideways at Mitchell. The officer’s expression was just as nonchalant as that of the woman who watched her, but her gaze was hungry.

“Christ.” Rebecca pulled her keys from her blazer pocket and stopped by her car. “Five minutes, Mitchell, and then get your ass back upstairs.”

In a rare breach of protocol, Mitchell forgot to reply as she hurried over to Sandy. She barely heard the Vette revving in the background or the engine roar as Rebecca pulled away.

“Hi,” Mitchell said quietly, reaching for Sandy’s hand. Their fingers entwined and she held their joined hands between their bodies, out of sight of casual observers.

“You okay?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah.” Mitchell grinned sheepishly. “I’m missing a few pieces of my anatomy, but, yeah.”

“I’m sorry, Dell.” Sandy searched Mitchell’s eyes, looking for the real wounds. “I’m really sorry.”

“Why? It wasn’t your fault. I got hot upstairs and mouthed off to Watts. That’s what Frye was on me about.”

Sandy looked away, remembering the pain in her girlfriend’s eyes when Frye had come down on Mitchell at the briefing. She remembered, too, Frye’s warning about what any kind of relationship with Sandy could do to Mitchell’s career. “You know, rookie, I can’t afford to cross Frye on this deal. If hanging around with you is going to screw it up, maybe we better coo—”

“Don’t…” Mitchell’s voice broke and she swallowed hard. “Don’t do this to me, Sandy. Please.”

Sandy had never imagined that someone else’s pain could hurt so much. “Dell, I…I don’t know what to do.”

“Just don’t leave me, okay?” Mitchell caught Sandy’s hand. “I need you.”

“You’re nuts.” Sandy’s heart hurt, hearing the words. Hurt in a good way, like something inside of her that had lain cold and buried for longer than she could recall was coming to life. “I don’t want to need you.”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” Mitchell smiled sadly. “I always knew you were the tough one.”

Sandy brushed her fingers down Mitchell’s chest. “I said I didn’t want to…I didn’t say I don’t.”

“That sounds so good.” Mitchell closed her eyes and rubbed Sandy’s fingers against her cheek.

“Jeez, will you cool it.” Sandy jerked her hand away and looked around nervously. “What if Watts or someone sees us.”

Mitchell shrugged. “Won’t matter now. I told Frye about us.”

Sandy gaped. “You what?”

“I told her I was crazy in love with you and if she wanted to fire me, to go ahead.”

“Oh, man.” Sandy hooked her fingers around Mitchell’s belt and dragged her to relative privacy under the overhang of the nearest building. Then she put her arms around Mitchell’s neck and kissed her until they were both breathless. Leaning into Mitchell’s body, she muttered, “I want to rip your clothes off and…do things to you.”

“Okay.”

“Go. To. Work. Dell.” Sandy kissed the grinning young cop again and hurriedly walked away before she totally lost her cool.

Laughing, Mitchell watched until Sandy turned the corner, thinking how hot she looked in that leather skirt.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Sloan savored the warm breath against the back of her neck and the soft hand caressing her abdomen. It was twilight, and Michael lay pressed against her, one arm encircling her waist. The soft swell of breasts against her back and the whisper of gentle lips on her skin was the most precious sensation she’d ever experienced. The terrible fear that had filled her chest for endless hours disintegrated like ice in the sunlight and flowed from her on a healing river of tears.

“Sloan. Darling?” Michael tightened her hold, sensing the subtle shift in Sloan’s breathing. “Oh, no, my love, don’t cry.”

“I’m okay,” Sloan rasped quickly, lifting a hand to brush away the moisture. “Just happy. Have you been awake long?”

“A while.” Michael slowly drew her fingers over Sloan’s breasts, flicking over her tight nipples before drifting down her abdomen. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You’re waking me now,” Sloan murmured as Michael brushed her fingertips lower. “Michael…”

Michael laughed quietly and traced one fingertip along the valley between belly and thigh.

“Michael, we can’t,” Sloan warned, edging her hips away.

“Don’t make me have to follow you, darling,” Michael cautioned. “I seem to do best if I stay in one place. You don’t want to give me a headache, do you?”

Sloan sighed and grew still. “That’s blackmail.”

“Is it?” Michael sounded surprised, and then she laughed again. “All right. So I’ve been found out.”

“We should wait until you’re better.”

“I am better,” Michael insisted, placing her palm gently between Sloan’s thighs, her fingers resting against slick, ready flesh.

“I won’t be able to come.” Sloan drew a sharp breath as a fingertip circled her clitoris. “I’ll be worried about you the whole time.”

“Oh, this is serious.” Michael’s voice held a hint of playfulness. “All right. You are not required to come. You merely need to submit to my attentions.”

“Michael…” She thirsted for Michael’s touch, hungered to touch her. But the memory of fear rode hard on her heart, and she fought the desire. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I’ve missed you.” Michael’s tone was serious now, almost wistful. “Because I need to be connected to you. Sloan, I need you back, too.”

Sloan’s heart turned over in her chest, and she was lost. Lost as she was each time the enormity of Michael’s love washed over her. “Oh, god. Anything you want. You know that.”

“I love you.” Michael smiled tenderly. “I just want to touch you. I want to feel your heart beat beneath my fingers. I want to feel your passion flow for me. I want to hear your breath break just for me—”

“Promise me,” Sloan asked, her pupils dilating with the surge of arousal mounting beneath Michael’s teasing fingers, “that…ah, god…that…”

“What, darling?” Michael watched Sloan’s lids slowly close as she pressed the length of her clitoris. “What?”

Sloan forced her eyes open. “That you’ll stop if…” her hips jerked and she gasped. “If it hurts…you…anywhere.”

“Sloan,” Michael soothed, her own heart beating furiously. “Touching you could never hurt me.”

“I love you.”

Michael smiled. “Then let me watch you come.”’

Sloan rested her forehead on Michael’s, her hand gently cupping Michael’s breast. She kept her eyes on her lover, but she couldn’t see. Love, desire, and need colluded to make her blind. Michael’s presence, alive and beautiful and loving, was more exciting even than her exquisite touch. It was too much for Sloan to hold.

A small cry of surprise and wonder escaped her. “Ohh…there…”

“Yes. Yes, my love.”

Gasping, Sloan slumped down to the bed, her limbs boneless, her chest heaving. “I’m…out of practice.”

Michael laughed, a husky sensuous purr of satisfaction. “Oh, I don’t think so.” Michael rested her head on Sloan’s shoulder, drawing lazy circles on Sloan’s belly with her fingers. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Sloan nuzzled Michael’s ear, then lightly bit the lobe. “I should head downstairs. I left things up in the air this morning.”

Michael lifted her chin and kissed the undersurface of Sloan’s jaw. “Promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“When you find out who caused the accident, let Rebecca handle it.”

There was nothing Sloan could do. There was nothing in her, nothing she was, that Michael didn’t own. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Michael kissed her again. “I know what that took.”

“You don’t know how much I love you.”

Softly Michael smiled. “Oh yes, darling, I do. You always make me know.”

Catherine stretched and sighed. “God, I love sex in the afternoon.”

“It’s not afternoon,” Rebecca pointed out.

“Mmm. It was when we started.”

Rebecca grinned. “Wonder what Joyce thinks about where you disappeared to.”

“I hardly disappeared,” Catherine pointed out. “I merely took some…personal time…before my evening sessions.”

Rebecca stroked her lover’s hair, aware of a strange new emotion. Contentment. “I’ll be late tonight.”

“Has something happened?” Catherine asked carefully. She wanted to say, Don’t go out. Stay here. Let me close my eyes knowing you’re safe. Let me fall asleep in your arms.

“Not yet, but soon. Mitchell is going out undercover again, and I want to be nearby.”

“Be careful, hmm?”

“What, with Mitchell?” Rebecca asked.

“No, my sweet detective, you.”

Rebecca sighed. “I more or less ordered Mitchell to see you professionally today.”

“Ordering someone to undergo therapy isn’t usually the best way to start that process.” Catherine’s tone was mild, but her eyes were deeply serious.

“Maybe not, but she’s about to fuck-up her career. I gave her a choice.”

“Me or what—traffic patrol?”

Rebecca grinned. “Something like that.”

Catherine sighed. “Rebecca, darling—”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. I said she could see anyone she wants, and that whether she did or not was up to her. I wouldn’t check up on her.” Rebecca brushed her fingers over Catherine’s cheek. “Okay?”

“It sounds like a done deal.” Catherine rolled onto her lover and kissed her, a kiss that soon deepened and grew hungry. “Oh, dear,” she gasped.

“Uh-huh,” Rebecca muttered, wrapping her arms around Catherine and turning until she was on top. “Oh dear indeed.”

“Aren’t you hungry?” Sandy asked.

“What?” Mitchell picked up her chop sticks, then set them down with a sigh. “Not really.”

Sandy tipped her beer bottle back and drained it. “So. What’s up?”

Mitchell met Sandy’s inquiring gaze with worried blue eyes. “Look, will you just please promise not to go off to some meeting with this porno guy without checking in? Just do that?”

“Ah, jeez, Dell. Not that again.”

“What if something happens, and we don’t know where you are?”

Sandy put her hand on Mitchell’s leg and leaned close. “Nothing’s going to happen. Trudy will take me to meet the guy. I’ll say, Oh yes, I’d love to take off my clothes and suck your dick, and then he’ll say, Great, I’ll pick you up at such and such a time blah blah blah. Then you and Frye and Bluto will kick his ass.”

Mitchell smiled despite the unease that was burning holes in her gut.

“I’m a big girl, rookie. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” Mitchell said softly, playing with Sandy’s fingers. “Will you just try, really try to call Frye if anything goes down. I…I can’t take thinking about you getting hurt again.”

“Okay, baby, okay.” Sandy leaned into Mitchell and kissed her, her hand sliding to Mitchell’s stomach and then around her waist. As her tongue met Mitchell’s, she whimpered faintly and half climbed into Mitchell’s lap.

“Home,” Mitchell gasped when Sandy finally broke the kiss. “Home—Jesus, we gotta go home now.”

Breathing hard, Sandy rubbed her hand over Mitchell’s middle, then down the front of her jeans. “Yeah? To do what?”

Mitchell fumbled for her wallet, her hands shaking. “Take off our clothes, roll around—you know.”

“Oh, that. Okay.” Sandy tugged lightly on Mitchell’s waistband, grinning at the hazy need in Mitchell’s eyes. “Then we can dress Mitch.”

“Oh, Jesus,” Mitchell moaned.

Laughing, Sandy tugged her from the booth by the hand. “Come on, rookie. You got business to tend to.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Mitch? Mitch, you okay?”

Mitch blinked and focused on the bare breasts two feet in front of his face. Quickly, he averted his gaze and turned to Jasmine. “Yeah. Fine.”

“I have a feeling she’d like you to look a little more interested.” Jasmine studied the drag king with some concern. “You look a little bit out of it.”

“Just tired.” It was after three in the morning, and he hadn’t had much sleep the night before. Knock-down, drag-out sex with Sandy had pretty much taken everything he had left. After Jasmine’s show at the Troc, Jasmine and all the kings had gone barhopping. Ziggies was their last stop and by then, Mitch was bleary-eyed with fatigue.

“You need to be sharp,” Jasmine said as she leaned close and rested her hand on Mitch’s thigh. With her lips close to Mitch’s ear and her hand roaming over his leg, anyone watching would have thought they were lovers, which was just what she intended. “You lose focus, you’ll be in trouble.”

Mitch tilted his chin and kissed the corner of Jasmine’s mouth. Then he moved his lips along her jaw and murmured, “I got it. I faded out a little, but I’m okay now. Thanks.”

Jasmine nuzzled Mitch’s neck. “Frye would have my ass if anything happens to you.”

“Mine, too, if there was anything left of it.” Mitch blew softly in Jasmine’s ear. “You can probably take your hand off my dick now.”

Jasmine laughed and settled back in her seat. “I never get to play with any of the boys.”

Laughing, Mitch stood and stretched, then pulled a dollar from the pocket of his leather pants, reached out, and tucked it into the barely-there red G-string of the woman dancing just in front of him.

“You coming back, hot stuff?” she purred as she swiveled her hips suggestively.

“I will if you’ll still be here.” Mitch glanced at the other kings and Jasmine. “I’m gonna grab another beer.”

I need to get someone to talk to me, not just flirt with me. I need to make something happen.

“There’s so many things wrong with this picture, I don’t even know where to start.”

Rebecca balanced her third cup of coffee since midnight on her knee and gave Watts a wordless stare.

He returned her gaze with righteous indignation. “I’m a detective second grade, and I’m sitting on my ass out here in the cold while a wet-behind-the-ears rookie is inside where it’s nice and warm.”

“You’d look…” Rebecca shuddered, “out of place in leather pants. So you’re with me out here in the cold, and if you want to make detective one, you’ll act happy to be along.”

Watts snorted, his good sense having vanished with the last ten degree temperature drop. “And another thing…I’m freezing my nuts off while the kid with the fake johnson gets to watch the girls hump those shiny steel poles. Probably can’t even get a decent hard-on.”

Rebecca rubbed at the blistering headache that pounded between her eyes. “I don’t want to hear about your ass or your nuts or any other part of your anatomy, freezing or otherwise. I just want you to sit there and shut up. We’re on surveillance here, not Entertainment Tonight.”

“At least I’d be able to appreciate all the bare tits getting thrown around in there,” he grumbled. “So, can I smoke? It’s a department ride.”

“No,” Rebecca replied for the fifth time in an hour. She lifted her coffee cup, halted with it half way to her face, and squinted at two figures approaching from the far end of the block. Softly she said, “Oh, oh. What’s this?”

“So,” Mitch said casually to the bartender when he passed him the beer, “how do I get some action around here?”

The bartender seemed not to have heard, his attention focused on something across the room. Mitch turned in that direction, and his heart stuttered to a stop while his stomach convulsed with shock. A pretty Asian girl wended her way between the tables, followed closely by Sandy.

For an instant, Sandy looked in Mitch’s direction, and when their eyes met, there was nothing in Sandy’s expression to suggest that she had ever seen Mitch before in her life. She looked back to her companion. “What did you say this guy’s name was?”

“I didn’t.” Trudy shrugged. “I don’t think he ever said. He’s got some kind of accent…I don’t know what. Italian. Russian. Something like that.”

“I’m gonna get a drink. You want something?”

“Nah.” Trudy sat at one of the tables opposite the kings and Jasmine. “He should be here soon.”

Sandy sauntered to the bar and edged a hip up onto a stool six seats down from where Mitch still leaned with his back against the bar. The bartender took his time approaching, and when he got within earshot, she said, “Would it be too much trouble for you to get me a beer?”

“Would it be too much trouble for you to suck my dick?”

“Not if the price is right.”

He laughed. “You think in a place like this I have to pay for it?”

“If I told you what I think, I might not get my beer.” Sandy lifted a shoulder, a slow easy smile on her face. “And I’m very thirsty.”

Still laughing, he pulled a bottle of Budweiser from the cold case beneath the bar, popped the top, and slid it to her. “Four bucks.”

Sandy pulled a bill from a slit pocket beneath the waistband of her crotch-high red skirt. Her shoes were the same deep red, and she wore a black satin top with spaghetti-string straps.

“Give me five minutes in the backroom, and you can keep your money.” As he spoke, his eyes dipped to her breasts and fixed on the outline of tight nipples stretching the shiny material.

“You wouldn’t last a minute, but it’s still not worth my time.” She pushed the bill across the bar.

As he snorted and picked up the money, Sandy hefted the bottle and turned in Mitch’s direction. Their eyes met, and Sandy nodded, then turned and walked away.

“What do you think?” Watts asked.

“I think there’s going to be a meet right now,” Rebecca said sharply. “Christ almighty. We’ve got three people in there, and we’re deaf and blind out here. There’s no way we’re going to know what’s going on.”

“She should have waited, god damn it.” Furious, Watts regarded the windowless door of the sex club. “We were supposed to get her the wire tomorrow.”

“She gets the call, she goes. Sandy knows the game.” Rebecca’s stomach writhed with apprehension, but her voice was cool, her face expressionless. “Jasmine and Mitch will keep an eye on her while she’s inside.”

“Right—a flaming fruit civilian and a rookie whose head is harder than her dick.”

“They’ll stand up,” Rebecca murmured, recognizing Watts’s insults for what they were. Concern. Gaze nailed to the door, she willed Sandy to walk back through it. Come on, sweetheart. Bring him out to us.

“You want I should call for backup?”

“For what? Right now all we’ve got is a CI looking for information.” Rebecca shook her head, then, with more confidence than she felt, said, “We’ll tail them when they leave—find his studio.”

“This don’t smell right.”

I know.

A few minutes later, Mitch watched from the bar as a muscular, dark-haired man in a surprisingly expensive looking suit entered from the rear of the semi-dark room. The newcomer stopped at the far corner of the stage where two women continued to gyrate and casually, but thoroughly, surveyed the room. After his perusal of the bar’s occupants, the man walked to Sandy’s table and sat down.

It was the guy from the video. There was no way for Mitch to get close enough to hear the conversation. All he could do was watch helplessly as the man leaned forward and put his fingers beneath Sandy’s chin, then turned her head from one side to the other. Acid burned a hole in Mitch’s stomach, and when the stranger ran a thick index finger down the side of Sandy’s neck and then between her breasts, Mitch’s vision blurred with a combination of rage and sick terror.

Do the job. He forced himself to walk casually back to his seat. As he sat, he slid an arm around Jasmine’s shoulders. “You see them?”

“Yes.” Jasmine snuggled beneath Mitch’s arm, keeping her voice low. Mitch’s body vibrated with tension. “Take it easy. Nothing’s going to happen in here.”

“I’m not worried about in here.”

“Rebecca’s outside.”

Mitch stiffened as Sandy, Trudy, and the man rose. “They’re going to go out the back door. Fuck. Frye won’t see them leave.”

“Mitch,” Jasmine warned as Mitch stood. “What—”

“I’ll take my bike down the alley and come around on the street behind the bar. I should be able to pick them up from there. Tell Frye.”

“Wait for back-up…”

But Mitch was already half-way to the door, and he was not turning back. He was not going to let Sandy disappear into the night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The young cop swung a leg over the motorcycle, started the engine with one swift, hard leg kick, and wheeled the motorcycle down the alley next to the building that housed the bar. In less than five seconds, she had disappeared from sight.

Watts turned in his seat with some difficulty, released the lock on the rear door, and Jasmine tumbled in, saying breathlessly, “Thanks. They’re on their way…out the …rear exit.”

God damn it. Rebecca gritted her teeth, knowing that they’d been caught unprepared. “What the hell is Mitchell doing?”

“Following them,” Jasmine reported grimly.

“Jesus Christ.” Slowing, Rebecca edged the vehicle into what was little more than a wide alley. Most of the buildings that backed up to it were dark.

“There!” Jasmine pointed through the windshield as she leaned forward over the front seat. “At the other end of the alley—I think I saw taillights.”

At almost four in the morning, there was very little traffic in North Philadelphia. Since she hadn’t seen the target vehicle, she was forced to follow the motorcycle, hoping that Mitchell could manage to keep the suspect in sight. She followed the motorcycle as closely as she dared, using the few cars that were on the road for cover.

“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch,” Watts muttered. “I hope to hell that rookie doesn’t give himself…herself…ah, fuck…the tail away. If these guys think they’ve been made, they’ll do those girls and dump them somewhere.”

Watts was right, and Rebecca said nothing, her jaws clamped tight and her unblinking eyes fixed hard on the road in front of her. As they turned onto a dark street of mostly abandoned buildings and empty lots, Mitchell surprised her by accelerating fast and disappearing, the red taillight of the motorcycle fading like a candle extinguished in the wind.

“Let’s hope that was a signal,” Rebecca murmured as she pulled to the curb behind a broken-down car that sat tireless on rusted rims. She looked in all directions and saw no sign of life. There were half a dozen vehicles parked along both sides of the street, but no one on foot and no lights in any of the buildings.

Five minutes passed.

No one spoke.

Rebecca tilted her head, concentrating on a faint rumble in the distance. She glanced into the rearview mirror. There were no streetlights and little moon, and the street behind her was shrouded in shadows. As she watched, a ghostlike form emerged.

Watts glanced over his shoulder. “Son of a bitch.”

Driving without lights, Mitchell slid the big motorcycle in behind the surveillance sedan and cut the engine. Keeping low, she came alongside the vehicle and tapped on Watts’s door.

“Where are they?” Watts asked as he opened the door to find Mitchell crouched beside the car.

“Fourth building down from the end of the street on the right. Warehouse of some kind.”

“Okay,” Rebecca said briskly. “Watts, call for two black and whites for backup. We’ll take one unit in with us and put another on the vehicle in the alley.”

“You want to take him now,” Watts asked flatly.

“We have him ID’d from the video. We know he’s in there with at least one minor and violating local, state, and federal laws. I’d say we have probable cause.” She glanced at Mitchell whose eyes were riveted on her face. “Besides, if we don’t move on this, Sandy and Trudy are going to have to go through with the video.”

Watts’s face hardened. “Then let’s bust up his party.”

Against Watts’s objections, Rebecca went through the door first. She took in the big room in one sweeping glance. The studio set up right in the middle and brightly lit. Same bed, same backdrop, same pathetic props. Same star, except this time the woman he had his hands on was Sandy, and Rebecca wanted to drop him in his tracks. Her blood was burning, but her mind was crystal clear.

She shouted police and never stopped running until she had her weapon in his face and her knee in his crotch. Then she flipped him onto his stomach and slapped on the restraints.

“The other guy’s headed out the back,” one of the uniforms yelled and ran after him.

“Watts, cover this guy.” Rebecca got quickly to her feet and glanced at Sandy. You okay?

Sandy nodded, her face pale but her eyes clear. She smiled weakly. Glad ya made it.

“And keep your eye on these two,” Rebecca ordered for the suspect’s benefit as she headed after the uniforms to join in the pursuit.

Sandy wanted to ask where Dell was, but she wasn’t supposed to know these cops. She wasn’t supposed to be anything other than a hooker making some quick money in a skin flick. But the question was in her eyes as she looked at Watts.

The alley was dark and the bricks against Mitchell’s back were rough and cold. When the side door banged open and a large dark figure hurtled through, she saw was the patrol officers tackle the guy.

He was big and strong and he didn’t go easy. Both uniforms were on him, and still he writhed and twisted and kicked. The alley reverberated with shouts and grunts and curses. Mitchell came at a run from her spot just inside the mouth of the alley where Frye had positioned her.

She was three feet away from the thrashing snarl of arms and legs when she saw the glint of steel as the suspect pulled the blade from his boot. He swung it in a flashing arc toward the back of the female officer who had him pinned and Mitchell dove.

“Knife!” She shouted while still in mid-air.

The knife caught her in the left thigh before the second officer grabbed the suspect’s arm and efficiently snapped it. For the first few seconds it didn’t hurt at all, and then the pain rose up like a wave of red fire and took her breath away. She rolled away, grabbed for the shank buried in her thigh, and reflexively pulled it out. It took all her willpower to clamp down on the scream that threatened to erupt from her. Oh fuck, fuck. God. It hurts.

From somewhere close she heard shouts and then a steady deep voice that seemed to penetrate the pandemonium with calm strength.

“Stay put, Mitchell,” Rebecca said sharply as she bent down. “Let me get a look.”

“I’m…okay, sergeant,” Mitchell gasped, coughing. “Sandy…is she okay? Did he—”

“She’s fine. He never touched her.” At least that’s the story unless she tells you different.

“Tell her…I’m all right.”

“You can tell her yourself in a little while.” Rebecca looked at the pool of blood beneath Mitchell’s leg and her stomach roiled. There looked to be a lot of it. She pulled off her jacket and wrapped the sleeve tightly around Mitchell’s thigh, then pulled out her cell phone and called for an ambulance. Kneeling, she put one hand on Mitchell’s head, and with the other she applied steady pressure over the leaking wound in the younger woman’s thigh. Mitchell’s skin was clammy. “You just take it easy.”

Catherine jerked awake at the first ring of the phone, her heart pounding. Her eyes flew to the clock. 5:44.

She knew instantly that she was alone, and she knew with absolute certainty what the call was about. Oh my god. No!

“Dr. Rawlings.”

“Catherine, I’m fine,” Rebecca said immediately.

The relief was swift and sweet, but short-lived. “What is it?”

“Mitchell’s on the way to University. Knife wound. I can’t leave the scene…”

“I’m on my way,” Catherine said at once as she pushed back the covers and rose. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine. I’ll be there soon.” Another pause. “Catherine, take good care of Mitchell.”

“Like she was my own.”

“I love you. I gotta run.”

The phone went dead.

I love you.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Interesting team you’ve got here, Frye,” Dee Flanagan said as she stood just inside the warehouse door, hands on hips, surveying what was now her crime scene. Her blue-jacketed CSU techs were busy photographing the studio, diagramming the layout, and collecting and cataloging evidence. To her left, an astonishingly sexy woman in clothes that should rightfully only be worn between the hours of midnight and five a.m. sat conferring with Sloan before a bank of video monitors, computer screens, and other electronic equipment.

“Unconventional, perhaps, but unparalleled.” Because she trusted Flanagan as she trusted almost no one else in the department, with the exception of Watts, and because she needed to see for herself that Mitchell was all right, Rebecca added, “As soon as Sloan is satisfied that the electronic data is secure, you can take anything out of here that you need to.”

Again, Flanagan nodded, her eyes everywhere at once, ensuring that everything was being handled appropriately. “Looks like you made a big score tonight, Frye. Nice going.”

It was true, but it wasn’t everything that she wanted. They had a piece of the puzzle, and they were likely to get media-worthy arrests from it. But she didn’t yet have the source of the leak within the department, and she didn’t have Jeff Cruz and Jimmy Hogan’s killer. She didn’t have Michael’s assailant. They’d made a start, but the job was far from finished. “What I’ve got is an officer in the hospital.” Rebecca sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Hell.”

“Go take care of business, Detective.” Flanagan patted Rebecca’s back and walked off to chastise a tech for failing to blue light the sheets on the bed for bodily fluids before bagging them.

“Look, I don’t need to be examined by any gynecologist. The guy didn’t leave anything on or in me,” Sandy said hotly. “And believe me, I’d know.”

“It’s just routine.” Watts pulled the unmarked surveillance sedan into the turnaround in front of the emergency department at University hospital.

Sandy eyed him suspiciously. He hadn’t looked at her once since they’d gotten into the car, and he hadn’t insulted her, made any lewd comments, or been the least bit suggestive. Something was wrong. There was only one thing she could think of that he would keep from her. Her stomach cramped. “Where’s Dell?”

“The operation is still ongoing,” Watts replied stiffly.

“I want to talk to her right now. Get her on the phone.” The longer he stalled, the more frightened she became. Oh, baby, what’s happened? Where are you?

“Fuck me.” Watts rubbed his face with both hands, wondering what he’d done to deserve this ass-end of the detail. “Okay, just take it easy, okay? She got a little dinged up, and she’s in the ER being looked—hey!”

He stared after Sandy’s retreating back as she raced toward the emergency room entrance.

Catherine stepped outside the curtain just in time to witness Sandy rush headlong down the corridor. She reached out and caught Sandy’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Sandy shook her head vehemently. “Is Dell here?”

“Right inside,” Catherine replied with a tilt of her head toward the curtain.

“Is she—” Sandy’s voice broke. “Can I see her?”

“I don’t see why not.” Catherine took Sandy’s hand and with the other reached to pull the curtain aside. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Sure,” Sandy said flatly. Like anyone would tell me the truth.

It was worse than she expected.

Mitchell lay on a stretcher, eyes closed, with intravenous lines running into both arms. And she was white. Not pale. White. Sandy’s heart sank. Slowly, she walked to the head of the stretcher and touched her fingers to Mitchell’s cheek. “Dell? Baby?”

Mitchell’s lids flickered open, her pupils wide and unfocused. She blinked, her vision cleared, and she focused on Sandy’s face. “It’s okay.”

“You hurting?” Sandy’s lip trembled and she caught it in her teeth. She stroked her hand over Mitchell’s hair.

“Not so much. They gave me stuff.”

The tears came. Sandy couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been able to stop the tears. But it was all too big, too much to hold inside. Letting Dell into her life, loving her, the terrible fear of losing her.

“Honey,” Mitchell said soothingly. “Don’t…jeez, couldn’t you…yell at me for being too slow or something?”

Sandy sniffed. Smiled tremulously. “Were you?”

“Maybe a little. But Frye put me way back in the alley…I had to run a long way.” Mitchell struggled to keep her eyes open, but the drugs were winning. “Don’t worry, ’k? I love you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sandy leaned close and kissed her. “I love you, Dell.”

Mitchell closed her eyes. “You go home. Don’t worry.”

It was terrifying to watch her slip away. She brushed her lips over Mitchell’s ear. “I’ll just wait for you.”

Rebecca found her lover and her confidential informant tucked away in the corner of the hospital cafeteria a little after nine a.m. Catherine looked beautiful, and just seeing her eased the ball of tension she’d been carrying in her chest. Sandy looked worn out, but unexpectedly cute in Catherine’s University Med sweatshirt and baggy jeans.

“Hi,” Rebecca said as she slid into the free seat.

“Hi.” Sandy watched Catherine out of the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Detective,” Catherine said in a tone that was almost a caress. She quickly took in her lover’s rumpled shirt, which was uncharacteristically untucked. Of more concern were the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the faint tremor in the hand that held the paper coffee cup. “Have you had breakfast?”

Rebecca lifted a shoulder. “Not yet. How’s Mitchell?”

“We’re still waiting. She’s been in surgery a little over an hour, so I expect we’ll hear any time now.”

“I have to get back to the station soon.”

“Right away?” Catherine couldn’t hide her concern. Less than two weeks before, she’d been the one waiting in the ER while Rebecca underwent emergency treatment. She very much did not want to experience that again.

“Mmm.” Rebecca sighed tiredly and leaned back in her chair. “Sloan’s still at the warehouse, and Jason’s back at the office coordinating the data. Between what they got from the computers on site and the IDs we’ve been collecting the last few weeks, we’re going to have a list of names by midday. I need to arrange warrants and put together a couple of strike teams to hit these guys all at once.”

Catherine turned to Sandy. “Would you excuse us for just a few minutes?”

“Sure,” Sandy replied, getting to her feet with a grin. Frye’s gonna get her ass chewed. Wow.

When Sandy was out of earshot, Catherine leaned forward and put her hand on Rebecca’s arm. “You’re in no shape to lead a strike team. You’ve been up all night, and you just went back to full du—”

“You’re right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rebecca linked her fingers with Catherine’s. “I said, you’re right. I’m not going to.”

“Oh. Well.”

“But…I still need to organize it. I need to get Watts to walk the warrants through and I need to brief the teams and I need to be in the surveillance van timing the arrests.” She sighed again.

“You won’t be…going through any doors today?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“I won’t ask about last night.” Because I already know. Sandy was inside, one of your own. Of course you went through first.

“Okay.” Rebecca ran her thumb over the top of Catherine’s warm hand. “Thanks.”

“Where’s your jacket?”

“I had to throw it away.” Rebecca looked around for Sandy. “Mitchell’s blood was all over it. She saved a cop’s life tonight, Catherine.”

Catherine smiled fondly. “She’s just your kind of cop, isn’t she, my love?”

“Yeah.” Rebecca grinned. “Yeah, she is.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mitchell swam up through dark heavy waters, struggling against the unseen hand that threatened to pull her ever deeper. Her chest ached, hungry for air, and distantly, pain broke over her like an angry surf. Gasping, she opened her eyes.

“Take it easy,” Rebecca said gently, resting her palm lightly against Mitchell’s shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re in the recovery room.”

“Sergeant,” Mitchell said hoarsely, struggling to focus. “Where’s…Sandy?”

“Waiting outside with Catherine. I had to pull some strings to get in here.” Rebecca smiled, pleased to see that Mitchell’s eyes were clearing rapidly. “You’ll be able to see her in a bit.”

“What’s happening…with the case?”

Rebecca grinned. “In about two hours, we’re going to kick some major ass.”

Mitchell groaned.

“Are your hurting? You need me to get the nurse?”

“No. I can’t believe…I’m going to miss this.” She tried to raise her head but was still too weak.

“Unfortunately, your kicking leg is temporarily out of commission, officer.” Rebecca squeezed Mitchell’s shoulder.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah. The surgeon said you’d be back on your feet in no time.”

“Back on the team?”

“I don’t know that there will be a team after today,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Sergeant?”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

“Kick some butt for me.”

The corner of Rebecca’s mouth lifted into a feral grin. “You can count on it.”

When Mitchell next awoke, the pain was less, and her overwhelming sensation was one of hunger. She started to sit up, and a small hand gently pressed her down.

“You’re supposed to lie still.”

“Like I’ve got a choice.” Mitchell turned her head on the pillow and smiled at Sandy. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi, baby.”

“Am I supposed to starve to death, too?”

Sandy grinned. “They didn’t mention that part.” It was so good to hear Mitchell’s voice that she felt tears threatening again. That was crazy. She waited until she was sure her voice was steady. “You okay?”

Mitchell gave the question some thought. She felt weak, and her leg felt like she’d been kicked by a horse. But the pain was tolerable. “Yeah, I think so. You?”

“Yeah.”

“You look cute.”

“Huh?” Sandy glanced down at the too-big sweatshirt and the shapeless jeans and then snorted. “Oh yeah, terrific. Did something happen to your head, too?”

“My head’s just fine.” She reached out and caught Sandy’s hand. “What time is it?”

“Afternoon sometime.”

Mitchell asked, “Can you help me sit up?”

Sandy carefully worked the bed controls and positioned pillows until Mitchell was upright. “Okay?”

“Perfect.” Her leg was throbbing, but Mitchell managed a grin. “Maybe you should get one of those hot little nurse’s outfits—you know, the ones with the tight, short, see-through white dresses?”

Sandy regarded Mitchell thoughtfully. “Blow me, rookie.”

“Okay.” Mitchell caught Sandy’s hand and brought it to her lips. She kissed her knuckles gently. “You’re the boss.”

The worry and fear of the past hours slipped away like mist on the sunrise. Leaning down, Sandy kissed Mitchell again. When she drew her mouth away, she whispered, “You know, you’re pretty smart for a cop.”

Sloan looked up at the sound of the elevator’s soft whir, perplexed because she hadn’t buzzed anyone in. Looking over her shoulder, she gasped in surprise, then jumped to her feet. “Michael!”

Dressed in a white silk T-shirt and loose cotton slacks, Michael smiled and walked slowly into the office. “I realized that if I was ever going to see you, I would have to track you down.”

“Jesus,” Sloan cried anxiously, grabbing an office chair and wheeling it in Michael’s direction. “Sit. You shouldn’t be down here.”

“Hi, Jason,” Michael called as she settled into the plush leather. From across the room, he raised his hand and waved a greeting while she eyed her lover critically. “You didn’t come home last night, and I didn’t see you for breakfast, and you didn’t call all day. I missed you. How are things going?”

“We got Rebecca the names of half a dozen Internet porn distributors and ten times that many customers. The operation is going down now. Depending on how the sweep plays out, it could be big.”

“I’m proud of you,” Michael said softly.

Sloan pulled another chair near, sat, and took both of Michael’s hands in hers. “It wasn’t just me. It was the whole team.”

“Yes, but you’re the only one I’m in love with.” Michael streaked her fingers through Sloan’s hair. “Will you promise to come to bed later?”

“It’ll be late, probably.” Sloan caught Michael’s hand and kissed the palm.

“I don’t have any plans.”

“How are you feeling?”

“As if I’m going to get bedsores if I sleep any longer.” Michael laughed. “Better. The headache comes and goes, but at least once in a while, it does go.”

“Thank God,” Sloan whispered.

“Are things almost wrapped up here, then?”

Sloan looked away.

“Sloan?”

“We know that someone downtown leaked the details of the task-force operation. I’m close to finding out who.” A muscle jumped along the edge of Sloan’s jaw. “I’ve narrowed it down to two people. When I get the name…I’ll give it to Rebecca.”

“I believe you. I do.” Michael sighed, slid her fingers to the back of Sloan’s neck, and pulled her close. With her mouth a breath away from Sloan’s, she murmured, “There are countless reasons why I love you. But I fell in love with you for the way you love me.”

At a little after nine p.m., Watts walked into Sloan’s office carrying a magnum of champagne. Rebecca followed, a tired smile on her face.

“Well?” Jason asked, rising rapidly to his feet.

“Sixty-four arrests,” Watts bellowed. “Including five who have been under surveillance by the OC division for the last six months because of suspected ties to Zamora.”

Sloan handed around plastic cups. “Outstanding.”

“You’ll be able to hear all about it on the 10 o’clock news,” Watts continued exuberantly as he poured champagne. “Sarge?”

Rebecca shook her head, then glanced at Sloan. “Any coffee?”

“In the back. I’ll get it.”

“Why don’t we all head back there, and we’ll see where things are,” Rebecca suggested.

The group trooped back to the conference room and settled around the table.

“The Sarge looks really good on camera. The brass are practically creaming over her.” Watts refilled his cup happily. “And rumor has it…”

Rebecca coughed. “Okay, Watts, okay.”

He grinned at her.

“Everyone did fine,” she said, looking at each of them in turn. “We did what the joint task-force should have done—we broke the back of the Internet porn ring.”

It was a victory, and it felt good. She knew, though, that such triumphs were short-lived, and the beast would rise again. That’s what police work was—a series of battles in a war that was never won. She had learned to take satisfaction in each small conquest, but there were days when she wearied. She squared her shoulders. “But we’re not done yet. We’ve got days of interrogations in front of us, because the distributors are all hard-core professionals, and they’re not going to roll easily, if at all. Plus, we still don’t have a handle on where the girls are coming from.”

“What do you mean?” Jason asked.

“This operation was too big and too well organized to rely on casual street-pick ups like last night. I’m willing to bet there are still girls out there being exploited by the guys who set up this deal, if not for other videos, then for good old-fashioned cash money.”

“Yeah,” Watts agreed. “And we still need to plug our leak.”

Rebecca just nodded. “Sloan? Anything on that?”

Sloan hesitated then blew out a breath. “I’ve got two very good possibles as the identity of our inside ‘man.’” She stood, too restless to sit. “Margaret Campbell, age twenty-nine, joined the DA’s office three years ago. Single, one child.”

“Divorced?” Watts asked, suddenly serious.

Sloan shook her head. “Never married.”

“A woman,” Rebecca mused. “In the middle of a porn operation?”

“She doesn’t have to be part of the porn network itself,” Sloan pointed out. “She just needs to be tied to whoever is behind the pornography racket.”

“And is she?”

“Counselor Campbell used to dance in a strip club in Manhattan. Since it was during the time she was a law student at NYU, I’d guess she did it to pay the rent.”

“So,” Watts said, “you figure what…she got into trouble while working the wrong side of the street and owes someone now?”

“Could be.” Sloan leaned against the counter and jammed her hands into her pockets. “Zamora or someone in his organization could be squeezing her.”

“Anything else that doesn’t look kosher?” Rebecca asked. She’d worked with Campbell a few times. Tough and competent. But she didn’t know her. And she’d learned not to trust anyone she didn’t know. “Like big cases she lost that might have been mobbed up?”

“None that I found, but I haven’t exhausted the search.”

“And the other one?” Rebecca asked.

“The other ADA—George Beecher.” Sloan rolled her shoulders and swallowed the rest of her champagne. “On the surface, he doesn’t fit our profiler at all. Thirty-two, been with the DA’s office four years. Ivy leaguer, comes from old money, owns a condo on the waterfront—which he can afford.”

“So why do you like him?” Rebecca asked.

“When he was twenty, Counselor Beecher was charged with raping a coed at a fraternity party.”

Watts straightened abruptly. “Charged—but no conviction?”

“Charges dropped. Could be the victim recanted, could be she was paid off, could be she just didn’t want to go through the indignity and humiliation of a trial.” Sloan’s features hardened. “Justice is not necessarily kind.”

“So what now?” Rebecca asked.

Sloan looked at Jason. “Time estimate?”

“Depends on if we get lucky. A few days, could be a few weeks.”

She turned to Rebecca. “We have to…access…the home and work computers of both subjects, look at phone records—including mobiles, dig out every bit of electronic data available, and do it without whoever launched that worm in the first place noticing.”

Rebecca rose and walked to the windows, surveying the familiar view. She was surprised at how hard it was to say what she had to say next. The group behind her was silent. At last she turned.

“All we’ve got are suspicions and conjecture and gut feelings, but no hard evidence. And our bust tonight has made my Captain very happy. We salvaged something out of that federal fubar. He’s made the brass happy because the numbers look great. City Hall is happy because we made the national news. Everybody’s happy—end of story.”

“But the case isn’t finished,” Watts complained.

“That’s the way we see it—but to the powers that be, it’s all wrapped up with a nice little bow.”

“Well,” Sloan said calmly. “We all know how politics work. It was a pleasure working with you, Sergeant. You, too, Watts.”

Rebecca regarded Sloan thoughtfully, then said to Jason and Watts, “You want to give us a minute?”

Watts picked up the champagne bottle and gestured to Jason. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.” He cocked his head as Jason rose. “Although I kinda wish you were wearing that little red number.”

Jason’s perfect eyebrow arched. “And you think Sloan is scary?”

As the two men left, Rebecca walked over to Sloan. “You’re not going to let it go, are you?”

“Would you, if it had been Catherine?”

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “I’m a cop.”

“Your point is?”

“Don’t go rogue on this, Sloan.”

“Then figure out how to sell it to your Captain, Sergeant.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Catherine said, sitting on the arm of the overstuffed chair and threading her arm around Rebecca’s shoulders. “Are you going to come to bed? It’s late, darling, and you’re exhausted.”

Rebecca leaned her head against Catherine’s shoulder, rubbing her cheek over the soft silk of the ivory camisole. “I’m still keyed up, I guess.”

“You looked very calm on TV,” Catherine murmured, rubbing the tense muscles at the base of her lover’s neck. “In fact, you looked fabulous.”

“God, you feel good.” Rebecca closed her eyes, lulled by the gentle hands and the sweet seductive fragrance of Catherine’s skin.

“So do you.” Catherine reminded herself that Rebecca had been working for nearly two days straight, but her body didn’t seem to be listening. She slid her fingers beneath the collar of her lover’s shirt and stroked the skin above her left breast.

Rebecca groaned, feeling the familiar ache settle between her thighs. “I need to shower.”

“And then you need to sleep.” Catherine’s voice was breathy with desire.

“I will,” Rebecca promised, pulling Catherine into her lap. As she kissed her, she slipped her fingers beneath the sheer material and cupped Catherine’s breast. She moaned in appreciation as the nipple hardened instantly against her palm. “Later.”

Catherine wrapped her arms around Rebecca’s shoulders and fisted the hair at the back of her neck, losing herself in the pleasure of Rebecca’s mouth. When she felt Rebecca’s hand drift lower, across her abdomen and under the edge of her silk pajama bottoms, she stopped the questing hand with her own. Gasping, she warned, “If you start, you’ll have to finish. You know I can’t hold back when you do that.”

“I was planning on finishing,” Rebecca growled, brushing her fingers over the inside of Catherine’s thigh. “Ah god, you’re wet.”

“Then go shower and come to bed,” Catherine said urgently. She pushed away and stood on trembling legs. “Because I want you to finish with me.”

Rebecca’s eyes darkened, and she rose quickly, all thoughts of fatigue, of frustration, of powerlessness gone. Now, there was only Catherine.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Rebecca. Rebecca, darling, it’s time to get up.”

Groaning, Rebecca turned onto her back, opened her eyes, and blinked against the light, which seemed awfully bright even though the lamp on the dresser was turned down low. It took her a second to focus on Catherine, who stood beside the bed in a two-piece, deep plum colored silk suit, the jacket of which she wore buttoned over apparently very little.

“Nice.”

“What?” Catherine asked, perplexed.

“The jacket.”

Catherine glanced down and blushed, noting where Rebecca’s gaze was fixed. “This is my going-to-work suit. It is not supposed to be seductive.”

“Sorry, but it is.”

“To you, maybe,” Catherine noted with a laugh.

“Not maybe—definitely. Any chance you could come back to bed?”

“None.” Catherine leaned over and kissed her, then stepped back out of touching range. She didn’t trust her lover, or herself. “Besides, I thought I’d taken care of that particular urge of yours not too long ago.”

“You did, spectacularly, but that was last night. Today’s a brand new day.” Rebecca sat up against the pillows, carelessly unconcerned about her nakedness as the sheet fell away. “What time is it?”

“Seven.” Catherine’s eyes flickered over the scar so very close to Rebecca’s heart and her own heart missed a beat. God, it was so close.

“How come you’re up and I’m not?”

Catherine forced a smile. “Because I need to leave for work, and you needed to sleep.”

Rebecca patted a spot on the bed next to her. “Stay for just a minute.”

“Mmm—okay, but you’re not allowed to touch.” Catherine sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, her skirt sliding to mid thigh.

“I’m not very good with authority figures.” To prove her point, Rebecca leaned forward and kissed the cleft between Catherine’s breasts. “Or…” Rebecca ran her finger under the hem of the skirt, “orders.”

Deftly, Catherine captured Rebecca’s fingers and moved them. “I’m in doctor mode and therefore immune to your charms.”

“So this is what happens to romance when you live together, huh?” Rebecca’s eyes were dancing.

“We’re not living together,” Catherine said softly, her eyes searching Rebecca’s face.

“I seem to remember you asking.” Rebecca’s blue eyes were serious now.

“I did. Yes.” Catherine traced her fingers along Rebecca’s jaw and down her neck. “And I sincerely doubt that seeing you like this more often would dampen my ardor.”

“Oh, yeah?” Rebecca’s voice was husky.

“I can assure you, my love, that fifty years from now I’ll look at you and want you just as much as ever.”

“Those seem like pretty good terms to me.”

“I want you to be sure.” Catherine’s voice was gentle, her smile wistful.

Rebecca leaned forward, her hands framing Catherine’s face, her thumbs brushing the elegant cheeks. Her mouth was very near to Catherine’s when she murmured, “I’m certain that I could never love anyone more and that I will never stop loving you.”

Catherine slips curved into a smile against Rebecca’s mouth. “Those seem like the perfect terms to me.”

“Well, well, well,” Captain Henry said with undisguised delight. “The detective of the hour. Sit down, Sergeant…or should I be the first to say, Lieutenant?”

“Sir?” Rebecca sat in the familiar chair and crossed her trousered legs.

“You’re not going to be able to refuse the promotion this time, Frye. I’ve already had a call from the Chief who said he speaks for the Commissioner, and they both want your promotion made effective immediately. The department needs good officers, and you’ve earned this.”

The department wants to be able to point to a few women of rank, come election time. Rebecca chose her words carefully. She wasn’t entirely certain she wanted a promotion, especially not if it meant she’d be riding a desk at One Police Plaza. But perhaps she could play this to her advantage.

“I’m a street cop, Captain. I don’t want to sit in an office and push paper.” She held his gaze. “There’s still work to be done on the case my team’s been investigating.”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Organized crime is going to work with the DA firming up the cases against the distributors. They’ve all lawyered up at this point anyhow, so there’s nothing that you need to do there. The paperwork on the individual arrests can be handled by some of the detective ones and our clerks.” He leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk. “Look, Sergeant, I’m expected to deliver you to the promotion ceremony in person. The press department is ready to announce it. Don’t jam me up on this.”

“I wasn’t talking about tying up last night’s loose ends, sir. I was talking about the other aspects of my investigation which are still open—including the source of an inside leak that fingered Sloan and maybe Jimmy and Jeff.”

His eyes narrowed. “Those are serious allegations, Sergeant.”

“Yes sir, I’m aware of that.” She played her final card. “You might be interested to know, Captain, that whoever’s been pilfering files and leaking the details of confidential police operations made things look like you were the source of the leak.”

His mahogany features darkened dangerously, and he said stiffly, “How?”

“Computer intrusions that track back to you. It’s complicated—I’d need Sloan to lay it all out for you.”

“Why am I just hearing about this now?”

“Because until very recently, I didn’t have enough facts to bring them to you.” She didn’t see any reason that he needed to know everything that she knew, or when she knew it. Or that for a while she had seriously suspected that he was guilty.

“And now you do?”

“Nearly the whole package. With the right team, I can give you a direct link to Zamora—the same person who’s responsible for setting up Jimmy Hogan and Jeff Cruz. We’re close, Captain.” And while I’m at it, I’m going to find out where Zamora’s people are getting the girls to keep his sex businesses running.

He studied her contemplatively, and Rebecca knew that he was figuring his angles just as she was working hers. She wondered what the price would be.

“Let’s say I approved a special high profile case unit within our division, with you as the lead, reporting directly to me. You’ll accept the promotion?” He tried to read her response, but saw only the cool blue gaze. The Chief had already the floated the idea to him, but Frye didn’t need to know that. Or why the offer was on the table.

“I get to choose my own people, and,” she added quickly, “I want official department recognition for my civilian consultants.” If I can talk Sloan into doing anything official.

He leaned back, a shadow of a smile on his face. “We might be able to work something out. Of course, there might be a few conditions.”

She waited, because there always were—and it was his move.

Henry picked up the phone and punched an extension. “Send him in.”

Rebecca turned her head at the sound of the door opening behind her and met the flat stare of Avery Clark, the Department of Justice agent who had headed the defunct joint task force and who had usurped the evidence and the arrest that belonged to her team.

“Congratulations, Detective Sergeant. Very nice job,” Clark said with apparent sincerity.

Rebecca inclined her head slightly.

“I’d like to know how you identified the suspects so quickly. Commendable.”

“You can read my report for the details.”

“I’m sure it will be quite elucidating.” He took the seat next to hers and nodded to Captain Henry.

“Agent Clark contacted me last night about the scope of your investigation, Sergeant. He said he was impressed.”

“I’m flattered,” Rebecca said sarcastically.

Clark turned in his seat to face Rebecca. “You made a dent in Zamora’s organization, and I’m willing to bet that you’ve got more leads cooking. We’re very interested at Justice in what you might be pursuing.”

“I don’t work for the Justice Department.”

“I lost a man, too, Sergeant.”

“And if my team had been allowed to work the evidence from the last arrest, we’d be closer to knowing who’s responsible.”

“But you’re still close, aren’t you?” he asked softly.

Rebecca said nothing.

“I’m not asking for joint jurisdiction,” Clark continued. “I’m asking for cooperation and a sharing of intelligence.”

Rebecca grimaced. “I think you’ve already proven that sharing is not high on your list.”

“Sergeant,” Henry said blandly, “I think that the Chief would look favorably upon the development of a major crime unit that interfaced with a federal unit. It’s got selling power.”

So that’s the deal breaker. If I want to keep the team together, I’m going to have to play ball with the feds. A muscle in Rebecca’s jaw tightened. “Watts gets promoted to detective third grade, and Mitchell gets her shield.”

“I think we can manage that, Lieutenant.”

Clark stood as did Rebecca. He held out his hand. “Let me be the first to congratulate you, Lieutenant. I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon.”

“I’m sure.” She shook the offered hand and turned to Henry. “Thank you, Captain.”

“Lieutenant.” He watched her walk out, pleased with the morning’s work.

When Rebecca stepped into the squad room, Watts jumped up and hurried over to her.

“Well? What’s the word?”

“Not here, Watts. Let’s take a ride.” She kept walking, waving her thanks to the frequent calls of congratulations from other detectives.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Watts puffed, “just tell me…are the rumors true? Is it Lieutenant now?”

“You always believe everything you hear, Watts?” Rebecca hit the door to the stairwell and started down. From behind her, she heard a long whistle and then a small hoot of pleasure that had her smiling despite herself.

“So where we going, Loo?” Watts hurried to catch up to her on the stairs.

Striding into the parking lot, she said, “We’re going to the hospital to see how Mitchell’s doing.” She pulled open the driver’s door of the Vette and slid in. As she started the engine, Watts dropped into the seat beside her. “Then we’re going to Sloan’s to brief the rest of the team.”

He caught his breath sharply. “The rest of the team? Officially?”

“Yep.” She gunned the Vette out of the parking lot and grinned. “We’re going to be on our own, more or less. HPC…high profile crimes.” She’d tell him the bad news about Clark after he’d had a chance to enjoy this a little.

“Oh man, that is sweet.” He fumbled in the inside pocket of his jacket for his cigarettes, a broad smile on his face.

“Yeah, it is,” Rebecca said softly, allowing herself a brief moment of pleasure as she imagined telling Catherine about the promotion. Then she glanced over at her partner, who was just about to strike a match. “Even D-threes don’t smoke in my ride, Watts.”

“Sure, Loo,” he said with satisfaction, pocketing his smokes. “You’re the boss.”

When an instant later he gaped at her and sputtered, “D-three?”, Detective Lieutenant Rebecca Frye merely smiled.

She was already thinking about the hunt to come.