Justice For All

Sandy, can you leave right now?”

“I don’t think so. Darla’s with me. I don’t think they’re going to let us just walk out.” Silence. “There. Sheraton.”

“Which one? Does it say?”

“I’m not sure. Close to 95.”

“We’ll be ther—”

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“I gotta go, baby. I’ll try to call you when we’re leaving. It might not be until morning.”

“Jesus, Sandy,” Dell yelled, finally losing her cool. “I want you to get out of there. You—”

“I’ll be okay. I love you.”

Dell was left listening to dead air again. “Jesus Christ!”

“Where is she?” Rebecca said, starting the engine.

“Trenton. Fucking Trenton!”

Rebecca pulled out onto Spring Garden and headed east, cruising around the corner toward the all-night food mart. Watts was just walking up the street with his coffee. She eased up to the curb next to him. “We’ll head up there. But chances are whoever took her will transport her right back down here. They’re not likely to hurt these girls, Mitchell, as long as they don’t find out what Sandy’s doing there.

And Sandy’s smart.”

“If she was that smart, she wouldn’t be there.”

“No. If she weren’t as brave and ballsy, she wouldn’t be there.”

Mitchell rubbed her face. “I could use some of those balls right now.”

“What’s this about your balls?” Watts said, sliding into his seat.

“You having equipment problems, kid?”

“Not now, Watts,” Rebecca said softly.

“No,” Dell said gruffly. “Woman problems.”

Watts blew on his coffee. “Join the rest of us, kid.”

v

Sandy didn’t think she’d been gone more than a few minutes, but when she returned, someone had turned the lights down so that she almost stumbled over an end table. Darla was on the sofa next to a thin man in a white shirt and dark pants. He’d removed his jacket and tie and had his arm draped over her shoulders, his hand on her breast.

Sandy scanned the room. The Russian who’d been in the backseat with her leaned against the wall next to the hallway door. His gaze flicked over her as if she weren’t there, but she had no doubt he knew exactly where she was. Since no one seemed to be paying her any particular attention, she sauntered over to Darla and plopped down next to her. She leaned close, and to anyone looking, it would almost seem

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as if she had kissed her neck. She knew from experience that at these kinds of parties, guys got off on seeing girls getting it on together. Most of her friends in the life were totally comfortable having sex with each other, and most of the time, would prefer it to the anonymous johns. So they always tried distracting the men with a little girl-on-girl action at parties like this. If they got really lucky, sometimes that was enough.

“Everything okay?” Sandy whispered.

Darla clamped onto her thigh with one hand as if to anchor her to the couch. Then she turned and kissed Sandy full on the mouth.

“Missed you, baby.”

Sandy snuggled close, checking to see who might be watching them out of the corner of her eye. A girl knelt on the floor in front of the adjacent chair, giving a man a blow job while he talked on the phone. On the opposite sofa, a big man with hands the size of baseball gloves mauled another girl’s breasts, which he had exposed by pulling her top down and scooping them out like treats from a candy sack.

Sandy hadn’t done anything like this in weeks, longer really, since she’d started falling in love with Dell, and she was sickened in a way she never had been before. She had been numb for a very long time, but she wasn’t anymore. Now she was even more determined to stop these men. All of these men.

“Well, I’m back now and I promise not to leave your side for the whole night. Who’s your friend?”

“Oh, this is…” Darla, despite being a little freaked by her surroundings, was no neophyte. She read Sandy’s message loud and clear. Dropping her free hand into the thin man’s crotch, she squeezed fleetingly, making him grunt in surprise. “What did you say your name was, honey?”

“I didn’t.” He looked past Darla to Sandy. “Who are you?”

“I’m Sam,” Sandy said, putting a purr in her voice. “I guess my girlfriend got the lucky seat first.”

“You two together?”

“Uh-huh,” Darla and Sandy answered in unison.

Sandy saw his pants tent under Darla’s hand. Bingo. He liked to watch, and watching was the safest thing for them. If they were really lucky, they could string him along until all the other guys were occupied.

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“You don’t mind if I join in, do you?” Sandy slid her arm around Darla’s waist and nuzzled her throat.

“Kiss her,” he said, covering Darla’s hand with his and curling her fingers around the ridge in his pants.

Darla had had practice at this, and they made it look and sound like they were really into each other, showing a lot of tongue more than really kissing. Giving the guy what he expected. Sandy almost never kissed her johns, and hadn’t kissed another woman since Dell. The touch of Darla’s mouth felt strange. Too soft, too casual. When Dell kissed her, she always felt Dell’s need. Dell’s hunger for her. Dell’s kisses could be gentle, but they were always demanding. This was an act, and that was cool with her, especially if it kept her mouth off some guy’s cock.

“Go slow on him,” Sandy whispered in Darla’s ear when they broke for breath. “Don’t let him come right away until everyone else gets busy.”

They went back to fondling and making out while Darla massaged him through his pants. After a while, he unzipped and pulled himself out, but Darla knew how to stretch a hand job into a marathon. By the time he came, everyone else in the room was busy. No one bothered Sandy and Darla as they curled up together in the corner of the couch.

After a while the thin man tucked his flaccid penis back in his pants and sat with his eyes closed, drinking his drink.

v

“What about letting me check out the lobby.” Dell stared at the hotel, her skin itching like fire ants were crawling inside her clothes.

Sandy was in there somewhere. With men who would dispose of her like so much trash if they discovered why she was there. Even if they didn’t hurt her, they were using her. Dell knew what Sandy had done to survive. She didn’t care what Sandy might have to do tonight to stay safe, as long as doing it didn’t hurt Sandy.

“Can’t,” Rebecca said. “You can bet there’s someone in the lobby. They’ll have someone watching the ground-floor elevators, the stairwells, and outside in the hall by the room. No one is going to get close to the men in there.”

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“I can get a look at the guy.”

“And he might look at you. We can’t risk it.” Rebecca turned sideways and stared at Dell in the faint glow of the hotel marquee.

“You’re going to get up close and personal with these guys. But when you do, it’s going to be because Irina introduces you.”

“I’ll take a walk around the block,” Watts said. “They’re going to have a car, maybe two, near an exit. I’ll get the license plates.”

“Make sure your cell is on,” Rebecca said. He waved a hand as he closed the door.

“What good is it to her with us out here,” Dell griped.

“This is surveillance, Mitchell. You know how it works. We watch.” Rebecca moved her seat back to give herself more legroom and rubbed the back of her neck.

“You okay?” Dell asked quietly.

“Yes. Little headache. It’s nothing.”

“I’m sorry. I keep thinking I should’ve seen this coming.”

Rebecca laughed softly. “If you ever get to the point where you know what Sandy’s going to do before she does it, let me know. I’ll promote you.”

“Irina agreed to talk to Dr. Rawlings.”

Rebecca turned her head. “Really? Nice work.”

“I think if we could get Witsec for her, she’ll come around about her sister too.”

“I’ll talk to Clark on Monday.” Rebecca grunted. “Hell. Why should he have a day off. I’ll call him later on today.”

“I want to be at the next one of these parties,” Dell said.

“Good. Because that’s the plan.”

v

By sometime around 4:00 a.m., the only sounds in the suite were a few intermittent moans. Several of the girls were curled up asleep on the floor or draped over slumbering men. A few men, still awake, sat drinking and talking. Another was being serviced by two girls, one with her mouth on his cock, the other offering him her breasts to bite.

“I’ll be right back. Don’t move,” Sandy whispered.

She slid from the couch and carefully slipped into the shadows, making her way down the hall. Earlier when she’d gone to the bathroom

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to call Dell, she’d seen an open door with coats on a bed. After checking that the hall was clear, she darted into that bedroom and closed the door almost completely. A wall sconce gave her just enough light to maneuver by. She pulled her camera out one more time and rummaged through the coats. She knew where to look and quickly found several wallets. Holding the billfolds open to the light, she shot pictures of the driver’s licenses behind their clear plastic coverings. She had no idea if her cell phone camera would be good enough for what she needed, so she committed the names to memory. But she knew her word would never be enough. She needed proof.

She’d just opened the third wallet when a muffled curse and the sound of stumbling footsteps alerted her that someone was approaching.

Her options were limited. The bed was too close to the floor to crawl under. She didn’t want to hide in the closet in case someone had left their coat in there and was coming to retrieve it. Behind the bedroom door.

No. If someone came in and closed the door, she would be instantly exposed. She shoved the wallets back into the coats, praying she had them in the right order, and bolted over the bed and onto the floor on the far side, rolling as close to the bed as possible. The bedroom door opened wide and a shaft of dim light, seeming as bright as a searchlight beam, cut across the room. Sandy held her breath, afraid her panting would give her away. Heavy footsteps approached. The bed sagged as someone sat on the far side, then she heard a few mumbled words in a language she couldn’t understand. It must be one of the Russians.

The unmistakable sound of a zipper sliding down, a grunt, then the liquid sounds of someone sucking. He was collecting a little bonus pay before leaving, which meant that the party was probably going to break up soon. Within minutes he was breathing heavily, and Sandy prayed he would pop quickly before other men began rousing to leave.

His grunting increased and the sucking turned to gagging chokes. The bastard wasn’t letting her breathe, and it was all Sandy could do not to vault over the bed and smash him in the face. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, closed her hands until her nails dug into her palms, and told herself she would only make matters worse if she were discovered.

He gave a hoarse cry and she slowly let out her breath. It was over, and within seconds, they were gone. Trembling, she got to her knees, checked that the room was empty, and hurried to the door. The hall was clear.

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The lights in the main rooms were still turned down low, but as soon as she angled toward the couch she realized something was wrong.

Darla wasn’t there. Quickly, she hurried back down the hall the way she had come. Beyond the room where the coats were stored was another room, and she could hear the wet slap of flesh on flesh. She could also hear Darla crying no.

Bastards. Sandy shoved open the door and stormed across the room all in one motion, yelling, “Hey! That’s my girl.”

A heavy man with his pants down around his thighs had Darla pinned to the bed, one hand on her throat, the other on his cock, which he was trying to shove between her legs. Even in the half light, Sandy could see Darla’s eyes bulging. He was choking her for real. Sandy shoved his shoulder with both hands as hard as she could, catching him unawares and forcing him to release Darla as he stumbled. He was too quick for her to avoid the slashing backhand blow that caught her across the face and knocked her onto the floor. She felt her lip split and managed to roll partially onto her side so that the kick caught her on the back, and not in the face. The force of the blow knocked the air from her lungs, and a buzzing filled her head as another kick skidded off her temple. She gagged, gasping for air, and dimly heard Darla screaming.

Then angry shouts in English, then Russian. Someone lifted her onto the bed next to Darla, who gathered her into her arms.

“Leave her alone,” Darla shouted. “That bastard was choking me.” “Let it go,” Sandy mumbled, still dizzy and sick. “Don’t fight them.”

Darla pressed her face to the top of Sandy’s head. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You told me not to go anywhere with anyone. But he said to come with him and I—”

“S’okay. S’okay.”

“We go now,” one of the Russians who had brought them said impatiently. He grabbed them by their arms and yanked them up.

“Now.”

Sandy’s right arm was numb, but her shoulder was in agony, and when he jerked her up, her knees gave way. “Wait. Just a minute.

Please.”

“No,” he said fiercely and dragged her down the hall toward the door.

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Her vision swam and she was only dimly aware of the elevator, the bright lights of the lobby, the cold night air. “Darla?”

“I’m here, honey,” Darla whispered.

Baby, Sandy thought as the doors to the Navigator opened and the big man pushed her inside. Dell, baby, I’m so sorry.

• 215 •

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ChAPTER TwENTy-ONE

Sloan swirled the melting ice cubes absently in her glass, then swallowed the rest of the vodka while keying in a new diagnostic with one hand. She was close. Very close. There was a ghost in her machine, and she intended to find it and follow it.

“You’re not quite as good as you think, are you,” she murmured.

She thought of the men she’d seen earlier that night with Kratos Zamora. Somehow, none of them struck her as likely candidates to be her hacker, but appearances really meant nothing. Still, they all looked like handlers or enforcers. Maybe Gregor, the brother, was more than just a figurehead. Maybe he was the brains after all.

While the program ran, she wandered back to the small kitchen to replenish her drink. It was almost dawn. She’d told Michael she wouldn’t be long. That was hours ago, and Michael would be asleep, which was what she really needed, not Sloan’s restless anger. Sloan poured an inch into her glass, not bothering with ice, and leaned against the counter as she sipped it. Her nervous system twanged as if a continuous current ran through it, keeping her edgy. The vodka stirred a fire in the pit of her stomach and with her ass pressed into the counter, she thought of Michael kneeling in front of her in the bathroom earlier, taking her into her mouth, soothing her even as she burned away her unrest.

She sighed and put her glass in the sink. When she returned to her desk, code scrolled rapidly down her screen. It might be a while.

She clasped her hands between her knees and fought not to think about the images of Michael and Zamora that had covered her screen earlier.

Mocking her. With an oath, she shot upright and her chair spun away.

She covered the distance to the stairs in a few rapid strides and

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was in the loft seconds later. She only slowed as she reached the corridor leading to their bedroom. She did not want to frighten Michael.

She undressed in the semidarkness and slid into bed, nude. Carefully, she pressed against Michael’s back, sliding her arm around Michael’s waist.

Michael murmured and rolled over, drawing Sloan’s hand to her breast. “Sloan?”

“It’s me, baby.”

“Is it late?”

“Yes.” Sloan kissed Michael’s forehead. Her skin was smooth, warm, her breasts soft against Sloan’s chest. She rubbed her hand up and down Michael’s back, feeling calmed by the caress.

“Are you all right?” Michael asked.

“I just needed to be with you.”

Michael ran her fingers through Sloan’s hair. “Do you need to make love?”

“No.” Sloan pillowed her head on Michael’s breast, realizing that the beat of Michael’s heart, the scent of her skin, the touch of her hand was enough. For now, in this moment, she had everything she needed.

“I just need this.”

“Go to sleep, darling. Can you do that for me?” Michael murmured.

“Yes.”

“And will you be here when I wake up, so I can have you? I need you.”

“I’ll be here.”

v

Watts pulled open the passenger door and slid into the front seat.

Puffing slightly, he snapped, “Head down to the corner and turn right.

They’re moving and we’ve got trouble.”

“Got it.” Rebecca started the sedan and took off in the direction Watts indicated.

Dell rocketed forward from the backseat. “What’s going on?”

“Three guys just came out a side entrance—right around the corner in that narrow service alley we passed—with Sandy and the black girl.

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Darla.” Watts glanced over his shoulder. “One guy was holding Sandy up. She wasn’t walking any too steady. Drunk maybe. Or high.”

“No,” Dell said instantly. “She wouldn’t be. She doesn’t use, and even if she has to take a hit of something to keep her cover, she’s careful to keep her head on straight.”

“There.” Watts pointed through the windshield. “Four cars up.

The Navigator.”

“I see it,” Rebecca said calmly. “What’s your read, Watts?”

“I couldn’t tell for sure, but if Sandy’s not high, she’s hurt.”

“Fuck,” Dell exclaimed. “Fuck! We have to get her out of there.”

Rebecca dropped back when one of the cars in front of them turned off, leaving them too close to the Navigator. Without another backup car to work with them, they couldn’t leapfrog, making it more likely the driver of the SUV would pick up on their presence. She had to think looking for a tail would be SOP for those guys. “They’re heading for 95.”

“There’s a two-block stretch that’s pretty deserted right before the on-ramp,” Watts commented casually. “We could probably take them there. They’re sure to have firepower. If they use it, it could turn into a clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks.”

Rebecca glanced back at Dell, then at the road. “Detective, you make the call.”

Detective, you make the call. Just like that, everything inside Dell went still. Sandy was in the SUV ahead of them. Maybe seriously hurt.

An innocent civilian was with her. And her partners, her fellow cops, were in this car waiting for her to decide what they would all do next, putting their lives in her hands. What was happening was bigger than her fear, bigger than her anger. If she traded Sandy for any one of the others—the lieutenant, Watts, Sandy’s friend—Sandy would never forgive her, and she would have failed in her duty. She’d been trained to lead soldiers in battle. To make the necessary sacrifices. And to never, ever, leave one of her own behind. She had never feared for her own life, and she had been honored to be responsible for the lives of her fellow soldiers.

“Here’s the plan,” Dell said, her voice steady and strong.

v

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Sandy bit her lip to keep from crying out every time the heavy vehicle hit a rough spot in the road. Her chest hurt and she couldn’t take a deep breath without causing a sharp pain to shoot down her side. She leaned against Darla, who steadied her with an arm around her waist.

The Russian next to her grunted what sounded like a curse as a flashing red light shot through the back window. Sandy pushed herself upright, despite the pain. The man sitting next to the driver turned around, the craggy black and red shadows shifting across his face making him look like Hellboy. Only not as hot.

“You do not talk,” he said.

The man next to Sandy drew an automatic from under his jacket and placed it on the seat between his leg and Sandy’s, his hand on the grip, his finger on the trigger. She glimpsed movement in the front seat and realized both men had their weapons out. The road was almost deserted, with only an occasional vehicle passing. The night was dark.

Perfect spot for an ambush. Oh my God, Dell, Sandy thought. Don’t be a hero. Please, baby.

“We won’t be starting any conversations,” Sandy snorted. “We don’t want nothing to do with the fucking cops.” Even though every movement felt as if her chest were tearing apart, she shifted closer to the man beside her, ignoring the gun on the seat, and leaned her head against his upper arm. “I’m just sitting back here with my man and my girlfriend. Fuck them if they don’t like it.”

“Good,” the man in the front said, facing forward again as the strobing red light was replaced by a harsh white glare from the cruiser’s spotlight.

Sandy tensed as the driver rolled down his window. God, please don’t let them shoot anyone. Please.

“Good evening, sir,” Sandy heard a man say. Not Dell. Not Dell. It didn’t sound like Watts, either. “You appear to have a short in your right rear taillight. It keeps blinking on and off.”

“I will repair it right away,” the driver said.

“Are you sure your electrical system is okay?”

Sandy saw a shadow cross the driver’s face as the officer outside the vehicle leaned down and looked in the window.

“Looks like you’ve got a full house here,” the state police officer said. “You don’t want to break down out here this time of night. The next service station is a good twenty miles away.” He nodded at Sandy.

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“I don’t imagine the young ladies would enjoy sitting out here in the cold for a few hours.”

“Everything looks fine,” the driver said, his tone friendly. He gestured to the dashboard. “No warning lights. It must be a loose connection. I will have it repaired immediately.”

“All right then. I’ll follow you for a few miles to make sure there’s no problem.” He touched the brim of his hat. “Ladies.”

And then he was gone and Sandy could breathe again. The man beside her relaxed infinitesimally, placing his gun back inside his jacket.

Sandy slumped, the effort of having held herself upright leaving her sick and dizzy. Awash in sweat, she felt cold and shaky and a little bit like she might throw up. Darla circled Sandy’s waist and gently eased her down until her head was pillowed in Darla’s lap.

“Close your eyes, honey,” Darla said. “We’ll be home soon.”

Home. Sandy closed her eyes. She really wanted to be home. She wanted Dell.

v

Rebecca’s phone rang and everyone in the car tensed. She found the speaker button and held the phone up for Mitchell and Watts to hear.

“Frye.”

“Three men, just like you said. Two in front, one in the left rear.

Two young females—also in the rear—one Caucasian, one African-American. Both conscious. Looked okay as far as I could tell.”

“Did the men seem suspicious?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I’m wearing Kevlar. They didn’t look jumpy. They looked cool. Very cool. Professionals.”

“You can pull off their tail in another mile. They know you can place them with those two girls. They’re not going to do anything that might jog your memory.”

“I thought if I asked for IDs I’d be pushing it,” the Statie said.

“Agreed. They know you’ll have their plates. Better for them to think it was a courtesy stop. Nice work. We owe you one.”

“Don’t worry.” He laughed. “We’ll collect.”

Frye disconnected and rested her phone in her lap. “That should give Sandy and Darla a little bit of a safety net. Those guys won’t want their bosses to know they were stopped, and they’re not going to want Sandy

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and Darla’s pictures circulating around the law enforcement channels.”

She took a quick look at Mitchell. “Good thinking, Detective.”

Dell wasn’t convinced it was enough. What if the guys operated so far off the grid they wouldn’t care if the state police were looking for them? Maybe they’d dump Sandy and Darla’s bodies in the river and take their chances. She just hadn’t been able to think of any other way to force the men not to hurt the girls without the possibility of a gun battle. But what if she’d been wrong? She was so agitated she thought she might puke.

“We’ll be back in Center City in twenty minutes,” Rebecca said as she punched in a series of numbers with her thumb. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Are you all right?” Catherine asked instantly.

“I’m fine.” Even though she spoke with calm confidence, Rebecca knew Catherine wouldn’t really believe it until she saw her. “But we might have a casualty. Sandy. Can you get dressed in case we need you at the hospital?”

Dell concentrated on staying strong for Sandy through whatever was coming, but she had to convince Sandy to quit risking her life for Frye. She just had to, because she wouldn’t make it without Sandy.

v

Sandy heard the crunch of gravel as the Navigator slowed. She opened her eyes and for a few seconds couldn’t remember where she was. Then the pain returned. The light inside the SUV had turned gray, the sickly pallor of a rainy winter morning. The driver slammed to a halt and she rolled partially forward, swallowing a moan as Darla clutched her to keep her from falling to the floor.

The rear door opened and the handsome Russian in the sunglasses said, “Get out.”

“What about our money?” Sandy slid to the edge of the seat but did not get out. She looked up at him as he stared down at her, his face impassive. She held his gaze. Finally, he laughed shortly, reached into his pocket, and came out with a folded wad of bills. He waved them in the air before turning and walking a few yards away from the Navigator.

She followed him, motioning for Darla to wait nearby.

“Okay,” Sandy said, holding out her hand. “Give.”

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With a thin smile, he leaned forward, cupped her right breast in his huge hand, and squeezed as he slid the money inside her blouse.

“You’re lucky you and your girlfriend look good together,” he said.

“The client liked your little show.” He pulled on her breast, dragging her closer, and she felt the ridge of his cock against her stomach. His fingers closed around her nipple, twisting until it burned. “Next time, don’t interfere. They pay to fuck you any way they want.”

“Next time,” Sandy said, trying not to gasp as her head swam.

“Tell them not to rough us up. Because no one will want to party with you.”

“Who says?” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it around his cock. It felt like he had an iron bar in his pants.

Sandy tilted her head back and smiled. “I do. And if you want me to make that rocket blast off the next time I see you, it’s going to cost you five bills.” She tightened her grip until she knew the pressure bordered between pleasure and pain. For men like him, it was often the same thing.

His voice came out tight, the corners of his mouth white with strain. “What makes you think we’ll meet again?”

“Because I know what you want.” She twisted her wrist until his breath grew shallow. “And you know it.”

He looked toward the car and lowered his voice. “Give me your number.”

Sandy told him, squeezing one last time before she yanked her hand out from under his. She wasn’t going to let him come for free.

She needed him to be thinking about how good it would feel when she finally did him for real.

“We’ll want your girlfriend too.”

“So call me.” Sandy stepped back hoping he couldn’t see how badly she was shaking.

He turned and strode to the Navigator, his back rigid. Gravel spewed as the SUV careened out of the lot.

Sandy reached out for Darla, her legs suddenly numb. Distantly she heard Darla call her name as she sank to her knees, then crumpled to the ground. Pinpoints of pain shot into her cheek. Stones. But she could move her head. She heard the roar of the engine again, but she knew she couldn’t get up. No matter what they were going to do to

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her, she couldn’t fight anymore. She tried to tell Darla to run, but she couldn’t form the words.

A gentle hand slid behind her neck, a strong arm lifted beneath her knees. Then she was cradled against a lean, firm chest. “Dell?”

“Right here, babe.”

“’Bout time.” Sandy closed her eyes and let herself drift. Safe now.

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ChAPTER TwENTy-TwO

I can walk,” Sandy said, sounding irritated.

“Well, that’s very good news.” Catherine ducked lower to reach into the back of the car and brushed a few strands of blond hair off Sandy’s cheek. She could only see the part of her face that wasn’t cradled against Dell’s chest, but even in the poor light, she could see that her mouth was swollen and a streak of blood trailed down her neck. Anger welled within her and she struggled to find the calm that Sandy needed. That Dell needed. “We have rules, you know, even if they don’t always make sense. So rather than get me into trouble, why don’t you just stay here a few more minutes and then let us give you a ride inside.”

“Don’t fight it, babe.” Dell cradled Sandy in her arms. In the dim light, Dell’s pale face looked bloodless, her eyes dark pits of fathomless sorrow. Stroking Sandy’s back, she said, “You won’t win this one.”

“’Kay,” Sandy muttered.

Catherine smiled, nodded to Watts, who emerged out of the passenger side like a dark behemoth out of the sea, and squeezed Dell’s shoulder. “Just another minute.”

When she straightened and turned, she saw Rebecca emerging from the emergency room pushing a stretcher. Her emotions warred in the familiar battle between relief that Rebecca was unhurt and guilt over her happiness, because someone else was injured. Sandy. God, Sandy. Barely more than a child and already with a lifetime of pain, and now possibly more. Why was life so unfair? She knew better than most not to ask those questions, but sometimes in the dark hours of the night when she was weary, she couldn’t help but ask herself.

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She hurried forward. “Let me do that. Are you all right?”

Rebecca stopped the gurney with one hand and cupped Catherine’s jaw with the other. She kissed her fleetingly. “I’m okay. This is a mess, though.”

“We’ll take care of it. Can you see about getting her inside? I’ll find Ali.” Catherine wanted to tell Rebecca to go inside and sit down.

She looked exhausted. But she knew that would be pointless. Rebecca would not rest until Sandy was cared for, and probably not even then.

Whatever had happened tonight would demand her attention. They would not, none of them, stand for one of their own being hurt this way.

As Catherine hurried away, she heard Rebecca tell Watts to get Darla’s statement. Darla, she assumed, was the frightened young African-American she’d seen getting out of the car. She blinked as the harsh lights assaulted her eyes, and she blamed the sudden tears on that rather than the ache in her heart at the thought of yet more young victims.

Dell couldn’t seem to move. She feared once Sandy was inside the hospital she would lose her, even though rationally she knew that wasn’t true. Still, how could she protect her if she let her go?

Rebecca leaned into the vehicle and held out her arms. “Give her to me, Mitchell. It’s okay.”

“I can’t,” Dell whispered, sheltering Sandy in the curve of her body.

“Yes, you can. You’ll be right beside her. You know I won’t let anyone hurt her.” Rebecca slid her arms around Sandy’s shoulders and under her knees, alongside Dell’s. “Trust me.”

Rebecca’s eyes held hers steadily, utterly sure, unwaveringly strong. Dell eased her grip on Sandy, who murmured something she couldn’t understand.

“What?” Dell asked hoarsely. “Babe?”

“Everything is all right, baby,” Sandy whispered. She opened her eyes and tried to smile. “Stop stressing.”

Dell clamped her lower lip between her teeth so tightly she tasted blood. Desperate to believe, she let Rebecca take Sandy from her and settle her onto the stretcher. She felt dizzy as she climbed out of the car, and grabbed the metal railing on the stretcher as much to steady herself as to stay connected to Sandy. “Don’t worry. I’m solid.”

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Sandy closed her eyes. “I know.”

Rebecca pulled the stretcher toward the double ER doors. A willowy brunette nurse in navy blue scrubs and a stethoscope dancing around her neck hurried outside and grasped the stretcher opposite Rebecca.

“Dr. Rawlings said you had a patient for us. Trauma two is open.

Right down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca said. The nurse smiled at her.

“You’re Dr. Rawlings’s detective.”

Rebecca smiled back. “I am.”

v

“This light might bother your eyes, honey. I’m sorry.” Ali flicked her penlight quickly between Sandy’s left and right eyes, watching the pupils constrict. “Everything looks good here.” She clipped the light to the pocket of her scrub shirt and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t lose consciousness?”

“No.” Sandy glanced toward the end of the stretcher where Dell stood, her hands still clenched around the metal railing. “I wasn’t out. I know what that feels like.”

Ali shifted her gaze to Dell. “You might want to wait outside, Dell.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Sandy murmured. “This is just routine.”

“No.”

“Sandy, do you want Dr. Rawlings to come in?”

“No, just go ahead, Doc.”

Ali covered Sandy’s hand with hers. “Were you sexually assaulted?”

“No one touched me.” Sandy’s eyes flickered to Dell again. “No one.”“I only care about you being okay,” Dell said gruffly.

“You’re sure nothing else hurts?” Ali asked.

Sandy started to laugh, but then caught her breath when her ribs screamed in protest. “That’s it.”

“Once we finish the x-rays, we’ll move you upstairs—”

“I want to go home,” Sandy said immediately.

• 227 •

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Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“You should stay here, San, if that’s what the doctor wants,” Dell said.

Sandy frowned. “Oh. Look who’s talking. Macho cop who doesn’t want to stay in the hospital even after she’s been stabbed.”

“Ah, Jesus. Save me from the whole bunch of you.” Ali pointed at Dell. “See that she stays in bed.” She fixed Sandy with a lethal stare.

“You take the medications I prescribe and get your butt back here if you develop any problems. All of which I will write down for you.” She started toward the curtain that enclosed the cubicle, then looked over her shoulder. “And I really don’t want to see any of your team back here again. I’m sick of you all.”

Sandy smiled as much as her swollen lip would allow her. “We all love you too.”

“Yeah yeah,” Ali muttered as the curtain swung closed behind her.

“How is she?” Rebecca asked as soon as she came through the door.

“She’s stable, and all things considered, lucky.” Ali shook her head. “Scrapes and contusions, probably several cracked ribs. Her face is bruised, but the abrasion on her lip doesn’t require sutures. If she weren’t eighteen, I’d say she’d be too sore to get out of bed for a few days. But, knowing her, anything is possible.” Ali grinned ruefully.

“She wants to go home, and there’s nothing more we’re going to do for her here. I’m inclined to let her go.” She glanced at Rebecca. “She needs to stay off the streets for a few days. Until she can move enough to protect herself.”

“I’ll see to it.”

“Isn’t there some way you can get these pricks?” Ali gestured toward the hall and the cubicles beyond. “These girls, the streets are eating them alive.”

“If I could take her place in there right now, I would.”

“Hell. I know. I’m sorry.” Ali let out a weary breath and rubbed her forehead. “I’m just tired. Tired of seeing them come in like this.”

She met Rebecca’s gaze. “So take care of it, will you?”

Rebecca smiled wryly. “I’m working on it.”

• 228 •

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v

“Look, rookie,” Sandy said, “I know Rebecca wants you downstairs with the rest of the team. So go.”

“They’re just finishing up reports and filling in Sloan and Jason.”

Dell hovered inside the door of the bedroom in Sloan and Michael’s loft. “They don’t need me.”

“Neither do I. So just go do your job.” Sandy couldn’t find a comfortable position to lie in. She usually slept on her stomach unless she was with Dell, and then she slept with her leg over Dell’s and her head on Dell’s shoulder. She wanted Dell in bed with her, but she didn’t want Dell thinking she had to babysit her.

“I’ll get you some water in case you need to take some more pills.”

“I don’t want any pills. I don’t want any water. I just want you to take off.”

Dell shoved her hands in the pockets of her jeans, staring at the floor. “I’m sorry about last night.”

“Oh Jesus.” Sandy stretched out her arm. “Come here.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just—”

“Now, Dell.”

Dell crossed the room in three big strides and knelt by the side of the bed. She grasped Sandy’s hand in both of hers and lowered her head until her forehead touched the back of Sandy’s hand. After a few seconds, Sandy felt tears on her skin and her heart did the tighten and roll thing that only Dell had ever made it do.

“Baby,” Sandy murmured. “Everything is all right, baby.”

“I was so freaking scared,” Dell whispered without looking up.

“I wasn’t. Because I knew you were there. I knew you would find us. And you did.”

Dell’s head snapped up. “I fucked up. I left you here to go buy Irina a fucking television.”

Sandy narrowed her eyes. “You bought her a television?”

“I figured she needed something to do. And the more time she spends inside, the safer she is.”

“Yeah well, as long as it isn’t flowers. No flowers, right?”

Dell shook her head, grinning weakly.

• 229 •

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Sandy stroked her face, brushing away the tears. “You know I still would’ve gone out whether you were here or not.”

“I wouldn’t have let you go with those guys.”

Sandy sighed. “And what? We let Darla go by herself? She almost got raped, Dell.”

“I’m going to fucking kill them.”

“No, you’re not. You’re going to do exactly what Frye tells you to do, because that’s who you are. That’s your job.” When Dell tried to look away, Sandy grabbed her T-shirt and tugged her closer, ignoring the pain that reared up in her chest. “Look at me. Look at me, rookie.”

Dell finally met her eyes.

“Promise me. Right now. Promise me you won’t do anything crazy. You’re a cop, Dell. That’s important. It’s important to you. It’s important to me.”

“Oh fuck,” Dell whispered. She started to shake and lowered her head again.

“Baby?” Sandy asked gently.

Dell took several long, deep breaths, then raised her head and smiled crookedly. “I’m okay. Long night, you know?”

Sandy laughed. “Yeah. I noticed.”

“So I was thinking, after I finish with the meeting downstairs, I could maybe sleep in here. Grab some blankets and a pillow. You know, sleep next to the bed so I wouldn’t bother—”

“When you’re done, you get in bed with me.” Sandy stroked Dell’s arm. “I’ll sleep better if you’re here. You make me feel safe, baby.”

Dell swallowed hard. “Okay then. I won’t be long.” She leaned over and kissed Sandy’s forehead. “I love you lots.”

“Same here. Go do your cop thing now, baby.” Sandy waited until Dell left to try to get comfortable again. She moaned as a hot flash of pain raced around her rib cage.

From the doorway, Michael said, “Can I get you anything?”

“There’s some pills on the table next to me,” Sandy said, trying to breathe evenly so the pain wouldn’t get worse. “I think I might need another one.”

“I’ll get some water and be right back.” A minute later Michael returned. She opened the medication, removed a pill, and handed it to Sandy. Then she sat on the side of the bed and gently slid her arm

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behind Sandy’s shoulders, helping her to sit up so she could sip the water. “I heard about what happened. How are you feeling?”

Sandy leaned against her. “Pretty crappy. Don’t tell Dell, though.”

“I won’t.” Michael eased her back onto the pillows. “How are you doing besides the pain?”

“It was scary there for a while.” Sandy held Michael’s hand. “But I think I’m okay.”

“Good. If you need to talk, I’m here. Or Catherine.”

“They didn’t hurt me. I mean, not the way you’re worried about.”

Michael sighed. “I don’t know what to be worried about first anymore. Or who.” She stroked Sandy’s hair with her free hand. “So just don’t frighten me like this again, okay?”

“Top of my list.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“Are you okay? You look pretty tired.”

Michael smiled a little. “I am tired. Good tired, though.”

Sandy grinned. “Oh. Sloan gave you a nice wake-up call.”

“No,” Michael said playfully. “I gave her a nice wake-up call.” She rose carefully and tucked in the blankets around Sandy. “I understand you’re supposed to stay in bed all day today. I’ll check on you later.”

“Hey,” Sandy called as Michael started toward the door. When Michael looked back, Sandy said shyly, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome, sweetie. And remember, I’m here if you need anything.”

Sandy closed her eyes. Dell would be back soon. And she was among friends. She didn’t need anything else.

• 231 •

• 232 •

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ChAPTER TwENTy-ThREE

Rebecca nodded to Mitchell, who came into the conference room after everyone else, dressed in the same clothes she’d worn the night before. She looked tired, but steady. “Grab a cup of coffee, Detective.”

“I’m okay, Lieutenant.” Dell sank into the chair on the far side of Watts. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Understood. How’s Sandy?”

“Crabby.”

“Doing all right, then,” Rebecca said with a flicker of a smile before glancing down at her notes. “Okay. Last night confirms what we’ve suspected all along. The Russians are part of a high-level prostitution game, but they’re not likely to be the ones pulling the strings. They’re doing a lot of the ground-level work—procuring and delivering the girls. Providing security.” She looked at Jason, who was rapidly keying data into the laptop in front of him. “You have those images for us yet?”

“Coming…now.” Jason hit a few more keys and images appeared on a screen built into the wall at the end of the conference room.

Rebecca squinted. The images were murky, the resolution poor.

“Can you clean those up at all?”

Jason raised a brow.

“Sorry,” Rebecca said dryly. “Foolish question.”

“Give me a minute,” Jason said, working away. “When I get these into my other program I’ll be able to do better for you.”

“There—that’s good for now. Thanks.” Rebecca waited while the entire series of images Sandy had taken flicked across the screen. “We

• 233 •

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got three names from the license photos Sandy shot. Two businessmen with strong ties to local government and a city comptroller. I recognize at least one of the others. A state senator.”

Sloan said, “There’s no way men like that would do business directly with the Russian mob.”

“No,” Rebecca said. “They wouldn’t. They would only trust someone who moved in their circles. Someone they considered one of them.”

“The Zamoras?” Watts said skeptically. “Why would these guys trust them?”

“Not them, necessarily,” Rebecca said. “But Kratos. Remember, he’s kept himself apart from the family business, at least on the surface.

The good brother. He’s just a businessman.”

“Yeah.” Watts pulled a face. “And I’m the next chief of detectives too.”

“Sandy got us the kind of intel it might’ve taken us months to get. These guys.” Rebecca waved a hand at the screen where Jason had arranged the images in a series of headshots. “One of them will talk.”

“Maybe,” Sloan said. “If Clark doesn’t get to them first.”

“Clark doesn’t know we have this information. And for now, that’s exactly the way it’s going to stay.”

“That’s not gonna win you points for interagency cooperation, Loo,” Watts said. “Could put you in a tight spot, especially since the brass told us to play nice with the feds.”

Rebecca rolled her shoulders, fighting a headache that had beat at the back of her skull for the last two hours. “If anyone in the PPD thinks this unit is going to lay down so Clark can fuck us over again, then they haven’t been paying attention.”

Watts grinned. Sloan stared at the table, her expression remote.

“So what does that mean for Mitch’s part of the operation? Him and Irina?” Watts asked. “Maybe Sandy got us everything we need.”

“Sandy only got us a piece,” Dell said before Rebecca could answer. “Those pictures don’t tell us who’s putting the clients and the Russians together. We need the connection, hopefully someone close to Zamora, and Irina knows the men who know them. Those are the guys we want. Irina can get me close to the key players. And then we can put on some real pressure.”

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“I agree,” Rebecca said. “We’ve got verification of one piece of the puzzle. But we need someone higher up than street-level soldiers like the men who picked Sandy up last night.” She nodded at Dell. “We still need Irina, and I imagine the Russians want her brought back in.

They know she’s alive. And they know how much she knows. I think it will be safer and smarter if she initiates contact now. A show of good faith on her part.”

“What if she can’t bring me in with her?” Dell glanced round the table uncomfortably. “You said it yourself. She knows a lot. They could decide she knows too much, especially since the house she lived in was raided.”

“If it looks like she’s in trouble, we’ll pull her out and try to get Sandy back in again. That’s probably a good idea anyhow. We know these guys are interested in—”

Dell shot to her feet. “No!”

Watts coughed into his hand and muttered, “Sit down, kid.”

Rebecca stared down the length of the table at Mitchell, watching the young detective struggle with her emotions. After a few seconds she said to the room in general, “Would everyone take a break, please.

Except for Detective Mitchell.” After the door closed behind their colleagues, she said, “You have an objection you would like to make, Detective?”

Dell automatically stepped to attention. “Yes ma’am, I do. If I might speak freely.”

“Go ahead.”

“Sandy’s hurt. They could have killed her last night. She’s not trained to do this.”

“Do what, Detective?”

“Work undercover,” Dell shot back. “She doesn’t know how to fight. She doesn’t carry a gun. She doesn’t have any goddamn backup.”

“And you conclude from this?” Rebecca asked. “As a cop, Mitchell, not as her lover.”

Dell sucked in a breath. “The risk of sending her back in again is unacceptable.”

Rebecca scanned the faces of the men in the images splayed across the wall, a silent gallery of users and abusers. She wondered fleetingly

• 235 •

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what separated her from them, and if the shield of justice was after all only a façade to hide the crimes of those sworn to uphold the law.

“I won’t argue, although I don’t completely agree.” Rebecca spoke quietly, trying to separate the cop in her from the woman and the friend. After a few seconds, she stopped trying because she could only be who she was. “But I will point out this. Sandy is trained. More than you for the work you’re doing with Irina.” When Dell started to protest, Rebecca cut her off. “She has street training. Real-life experience. She handled herself perfectly last night. Probably better than you would have. Or me.”

Rebecca sighed. “She got into trouble not because of the situation, but because she did what she would’ve done if she’d been in a bar on Delaware or a street corner on Arch. She defended one of her own. It had nothing to do with her being at that party because of this investigation.”

“You’re saying it’s her fault,” Dell said flatly.

Rebecca shrugged. “Probably as much as it’s your fault you got stabbed or my fault that I got shot. We do what we do because we can’t do anything else. Neither can she.” Rebecca put her hands flat on the table and leaned forward. “I guarantee you this, Mitchell. If we tell her to stop, she’s going to laugh in our faces and go out there on her own.

And I for one would rather know where she is and what she’s doing.

I’d rather be sitting in a car on the street in front of that hotel than sixty miles away.”

Dell looked down at the floor. When she spoke, her voice was low and rough. “You know her better than I do. You’d probably be better for her than me.”

“Well, that’s fucked-up logic on many levels.” Rebecca laughed.

“Forgetting Catherine, which is impossible, I don’t love Sandy the way you do. Not with my last breath. So unless there’s something else you want to say to me, I think we should let that topic rest.”

“Noted.”

“Look, Mitchell. It’s been a hard night. We’re all tired. And before you and I decide what’s best for Sandy, we’d better check with her.”

Dell finally smiled. “Oh yeah. Not a bad idea.”

“That’s why I’m the lieutenant.” Rebecca walked around the table and dropped her hand on Dell’s shoulder. “If she goes out again, I promise you she’ll have backup. They didn’t check the girls last night.

• 236 •

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They don’t think of these girls as a threat. That’s to our advantage.

We’ll wire her somehow.”

“Okay.” Dell colored. “I’m sorry for the outburst, Lieutenant.”

“Forget it. I’d have done the same.” Rebecca thumped Dell lightly on the arm. “In fact, I have. Now let’s get the team back in here and work out a plan to put these guys out of business.”

v

“Okay. Jason.” Rebecca pointed. “Your job is to ID the rest of the clients. DMV, Armed Forces databases, newspaper archives. You know the drill. They’re too high profile to be hidden. Run the SUV plates…

maybe we’ll get lucky there and turn a name that isn’t fake.”

“On it.” Jason closed his laptop, tucked it under his arm, and headed out into the main office.

“Mitchell. Get some sleep. Then I want you to show Irina copies of these photos. See if she can ID the Russians or any of the clients.”

“I’ll see her tonight,” Dell said.

“Right. Good.” Rebecca turned to Watts. “I’m going to pay Clark a visit later. You stay close in case Mitchell needs backup. Mitchell…

Watts is your first call if you so much as go out for pizza with Irina.”

“Make sure you call me, kid.” Watts shrugged into his raincoat. “I thought I’d check to see if we’ve turned up anything on the computer forensics at the pier too.”

Rebecca grinned. “Do that.”

With the room emptying, Rebecca faced Sloan, who closed the door behind Watts and leaned against it. She’d been wondering if this moment would come. “Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Sloan hooked her thumb over the waistband of her jeans. “Hear what?”

“Whatever it is you’ve been chewing on the last couple of days.

Trying to decide whether to handle it on your own or not.”

“What makes you think that?” Sloan held Rebecca’s gaze without blinking, her eyes a cold, flat indigo. Storm clouds at sunset on a winter night. When Rebecca said nothing Sloan grinned wryly. “Okay. You know how we’ve been thinking Clark’s ultimate goal is to use us to turn someone in Zamora’s organization?”

• 237 •

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“SOP for the feds. They make most of their cases by squeezing the guys they’re trying to put away until somebody cracks and makes a deal. This time we’re the nutcracker.”

Sloan nodded. “So I think someone on the other side is looking for the same thing.”

Everything in Rebecca went completely still. Fury ate at the edges of her control. She would not tolerate an assault on her team. Not on the streets. Not in secret. Not anywhere. “Who?”

“Me.”

“Michael?” Rebecca couldn’t think of any other threat that would be powerful enough to tempt Sloan to cross a line. And she knew with absolute certainty that Sloan had been considering it for the last two days. The question was, what line. Rebecca could not imagine Sloan betraying the team, which left only one option. “How did they get to you?”

Sloan gestured to her laptop and pulled a jump drive from her pocket. “Sit down. I’ll show you.”

Rebecca yanked out a chair at the conference table and Sloan slid the laptop in front of her. Rebecca watched the images of Michael with Kratos Zamora flash by, one after the other. “Son of a bitch.”

“Yes.” Sloan removed the jump drive and slipped it back into her pocket.

“Have a seat.” When Sloan hesitated, Rebecca said, “Don’t fight me on this, Sloan.”

Wordlessly, Sloan sat across from Rebecca.

“Have they approached you with an offer?”

“No.”

Rebecca frowned. “Then what the hell have you been trying to work out for the last few days?”

Sloan shrugged. “Whether I was going to take out Zamora. And if I did whether that would neutralize the threat.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake. Who else knows about this?”

“No one.”

“Michael?”

Sloan shook her head.

“Jesus.” Rebecca wanted to climb over the table and knock Sloan on her ass. The problem was, she understood. And she also understood that Sloan could not be contained by the ordinary rules of engagement.

• 238 •

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She had not been trained that way and she didn’t have the temperament for it. She was as close to rogue as a member of a team could be and still be trustworthy. But Rebecca trusted her. She trusted her because Sloan was sitting across from her right now telling her she’d been considering her own brand of justice. “Can we prove who sent the pictures?”

“No, and we never will be able to. I can tell you where they came from.” Sloan shrugged. “Well. Not just yet, but soon. But that doesn’t prove who entered the data. And, unless an overt threat is made, they’re just pictures. Michael was at a business meeting. Zamora moves in the same circles. No crime in that.”

“But you think you can get a name.”

“I guarantee it.”

“I don’t want you to take a single breath between the time you know the name and the time you call me with it. Are we clear?” Rebecca watched Sloan’s eyes, because the answer would determine the future of their team and their friendship.

Not a muscle flickered in Sloan’s face until she said, “Crystal, Lieutenant.”

Rebecca shoved to her feet, suddenly very tired. “I’m going to grab a few hours’ sleep. Then talk to Clark.”

“What are you going to tell him about this?”

“I’m not going to tell him anything. If he knew, he’d bury you so deep you wouldn’t see daylight for a year.”

“He could try.”

“He could do it.” Rebecca stopped with her hand on the doorknob.

“I want you on this team. I need you on this team. And Michael needs you with her. You’re not alone anymore, Sloan.” She opened the door, then looked back. “And if anyone kicks your ass, it will be me.”

v

Michael stood by the windows and looked out at the river. Sloan was somewhere behind her. The loft was dark, the only light coming from the fireplace. The reddish glow reflected off the walls of glass as if the world were on fire. For a few terrifying moments, Michael felt as if her life was crumbling to ashes. She’d listened to what Sloan told her, trying to take it in. She’d understood the facts, but she had no context for the actions. She had no reference point in her life for such events.

• 239 •

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She wasn’t frightened by what Sloan told her, but she was terrified by the fact that Sloan had not told her until now.

“What did Rebecca say?”

Sloan stood a few feet away, afraid to cross the gap between them.

Michael’s hair shimmered like red gold, and her slender frame looked fragile and so far away. Sloan’s chest constricted with the sudden fear that Michael would somehow slip into the night and she would lose her.

“Something along the lines that I’m an ass. That if I didn’t do exactly what she said she’d kick mine.”

Michael turned, hugging herself. “She’s right. On both counts.

Except she might have to get in line for the ass kicking part. Behind me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not good enough.” Michael crossed the few feet between them and slapped her palm against Sloan’s chest. “You think so little of me that you don’t trust me to handle a problem? How do you think that makes me feel?”

“Michael, I—”

“Am I your partner, Sloan? Or just the woman who keeps your bed warm?”

Sloan jerked back. “God, Michael! I love you. I love you with all my heart. You’re the only thing in my life that really matters to me.”

Michael cupped Sloan’s face in both hands and kissed her softly on the mouth. Then she drew back and stared into her eyes. “Then treat me that way, Sloan. Not like I might break. Not like I might leave you because I’m angry or because things are dangerous or difficult. Treat me like I’m the woman you want to stand by your side. Forever.”

Sloan started to shake and looked away, but not before Michael saw the glitter of tears on her cheeks. Her anger evaporated, replaced by an enormous, aching need to take away her pain. “Oh, baby.” She pulled Sloan into her arms and stroked the back of her head. “I love you. I love you even when you’re an ass.”

“I’m sorry,” Sloan whispered, burying her face in Michael’s neck.

“I know. And later,” Michael said, pulling Sloan’s T-shirt from her jeans, “I’m going to want to know everything that Rebecca said.” She slid her hands up Sloan’s back, then down the tight muscles on either side of her spine. She kissed Sloan’s neck and dug her fingers into

• 240 •

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Sloan’s tight butt, dragging Sloan against her body. “And everything that you’re going to do about it.” She sucked Sloan’s earlobe, then bit down until Sloan groaned. “But first, I want to go into the bedroom.”

She insinuated one hand between their bodies and cupped Sloan’s crotch, squeezing the soft denim in her palm. “I want you to make love to me.” She caught Sloan’s lower lip between her teeth and tugged, then slipped her tongue into Sloan’s mouth. She toyed with Sloan’s tongue, teasing and taunting until she was breathless and Sloan’s hands were on her breasts, inflaming her. “What do you say, Sloan?”

“Yes,” Sloan gasped. “I say yes.”

v

“Why offer her Witsec when we can get what we need without it?”

Clark drained the glass of bourbon and gestured to the hotel bartender for a refill.

Rebecca sipped her coffee, wondering if Clark actually had a house or if he just moved from one hotel to another. She thought about going home to Catherine that morning, of crawling into bed and having Catherine join her. Falling asleep with Catherine’s arms around her, just holding her. Just being there. For a fraction of a millisecond she almost felt sorry for Clark. And then she thought about Irina and the other girls who were nothing but pawns to him. Players on a game board.

She realized in that instant that appealing to his better instincts was pointless. She knew how he saw the world. His was the righteous path, and the end always justified any means. Collateral losses were simply the cost of doing business.

“She has a picture of her sister, but she won’t give it up to us because she doesn’t trust us. If we find the sister, we’ll have more leverage on Irina and we’ll also have another girl on the inside.” Rebecca drank more coffee but it tasted like acid as she said what she knew she needed to say. “New identities and protection for both of them. The cost is nothing compared to how big this will be if we make the case against the Russians. And if we connect them to someone bigger.” Rebecca shrugged. She didn’t need to tell Clark it was a career-making case.

“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”

“I’ll need to have her meet with the federal marshals to convince her.” Rebecca pushed the coffee away. “She’s not your biggest fan.”

• 241 •

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Clark snorted. “You’re breaking my heart.” He finished off his bourbon. “I’ll set it up.”

“Thanks.” Rebecca walked out of the bar, the scent of bourbon lingering in her consciousness. She opened her phone and punched in a number. “I’ll be home in twenty minutes. Can you throw some things in a bag—enough for overnight.”

“Where are we going?” Catherine asked.

“I don’t know. Somewhere not here. Just us.”

“That’s just what I need.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Rebecca closed the phone and took a deep breath of the chill night air. “Me too.”

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ChAPTER TwENTy-FOUR

Dell put the pizza box on the counter next to the six-pack of beer she’d picked up at the corner deli. The television was turned to a nature show. Irina sat cross-legged on the bed, barefoot in black tights and a cobalt blue sweater. Without makeup and with her dark, wavy hair loose around her shoulders, she looked much younger than Dell had previously thought.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Twenty-three.”

Dell slid a piece of cheese pizza on a paper plate and carried it to Irina, then went back to get extra napkins and a piece for herself. Irina shifted over on the mattress, which she’d covered with a floral print sheet and lime green blanket, and Dell sat on the corner of the bed, her booted feet stretched out in front of her.

“If you had called me, I would have cooked you something to eat,” Irina said.

“You don’t need to do that. But thanks.” Dell took a bite of her pizza as she framed her next question. The topic was sensitive and she didn’t want Irina to close down. “Your sister’s younger, isn’t she?”

“She will be seventeen next month.” Irina crumpled the napkin she was holding.

“Fuck,” Dell muttered, but before she could ask her next question a hand slid along the inside of her thigh and Irina changed the subject.

“You aren’t dressed to go out tonight.”

“No.” Dell methodically chewed her pizza and ignored Irina’s hand. Maybe if she didn’t make a big deal out of it, Irina wouldn’t

• 243 •

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either. “My lieutenant thinks it’s a good idea for you to contact Olik, though. Call him and tell him you feel safer now, as long as you have Mitch, and you want to come back in.” Dell glanced at Irina. “It’s important that I go with you. Olik isn’t going to hurt you with a witness there, Irina.”

The assurance sounded more confident than realistic. Dell was pretty sure Olik wouldn’t want a boyfriend hanging around, seeing too much. He’d have to convince Olik he could be useful.

Irina’s fingers drifted higher, skimming Dell’s crotch. “If I bring Mitch, Olik will be angry.”

“What will he do?” Dell covered Irina’s hand and placed it on the bed between them.

“I don’t know. He will test us.”

Dell thought of the undercover narco detectives who were forced to sample drugs during drug buys to prove they weren’t cops. Some of them developed a taste for the product they were trying to eradicate.

She wasn’t exactly certain what Olik might want, but she couldn’t worry about that. “That’s okay. We’ll be fine.”

“So you say, new boy,” Irina said softly.

Dell pulled the envelope from the inside pocket of her jacket and showed Irina the images Jason had printed. “Do you know any of these men?”

Frowning, Irina took the photos and sorted through them. Once or twice she slowed and Dell noticed her hands trembling.

“What? You recognize someone?” Dell probed.

Irina’s mouth tightened. “I know the big man, Sergei. He is one of Olik’s men.”

“What does he do, exactly?” Dell’s heart raced. This was the kind of information they needed.

“He…” Irina hesitated, as if searching for words. “He makes sure that the girls get to the parties or the movie set or wherever Olik wants them to go. Then he stays to make sure no one bothers them. That the girls behave. That the customers are satisfied.”

“He’s an enforcer—like the guy in the club the other night?”

Irina shook her head. “No. He is more like an officer. Not a regular soldier.” She looked frustrated. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain.”

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“No, I get it. He’s one of Olik’s lieutenants. How high up is Olik?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

Dell thought for a second. “You’ve been to these parties. These movie shoots. That Olik arranges, right?”

Irina nodded.

“Where? Where were they?”

“All over. Here. New York City. Washington, once.”

Dell wanted to shout. The Mid-Atlantic corridor. Moving women, girls, between states for the purpose of prostitution was going to buy someone a lot of years in federal prison. “That’s good. You’re doing great.”

Irina smiled. “I made a mistake, believing men like Olik back in Russia. I have been paying for that ever since.”

“You did what you had to do.” Dell squeezed Irina’s hand. “And you’re doing the right thing now.”

“I will leave a message at Ziggie’s. Olik usually comes around on Wednesday nights. To check on the girls. Collect money, I think. I’ll say I want to meet him.”

“Okay,” Dell said. “Mitch and you. Ziggie’s. Wednesday night.”

v

“Rebecca, darling,” Catherine murmured, stroking Rebecca’s face, “it’s time to get up.”

The night before they’d driven an hour outside the city to a small bed and breakfast in the mountains. After an unhurried, intimate dinner, they’d gone to bed early with a fire burning in the fireplace in their room. Rebecca had fallen asleep in her arms, and Catherine hated to wake her. She studied her lover’s face in the predawn light. The bruises hadn’t completely faded yet and now smudges of fatigue were visible beneath her eyes. If she had her wish, they would stay here for a week, to heal in body and soul. But that was not to be.

“Rebecca,” Catherine whispered.

Usually, even when completely exhausted, Rebecca would awaken at full alert, but not this morning. She murmured something unintelligible and rolled closer, pressing her face to Catherine’s breast.

• 245 •

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Catherine felt her nipples tighten and the familiar stirring in the pit of her stomach, and even though she knew they needed to get up soon if they were going to beat the rush-hour traffic back to the city, she responded to an even greater need. Not for the sex, but for something far more important. Sliding her fingers through the short thick hair at the base of Rebecca’s neck, she cradled Rebecca’s head and guided her nipple into Rebecca’s mouth. She gasped in surprise at the swift tug of teeth against her already turgid flesh.

“You’re awake, you faker.”

Rebecca shifted her hips and pushed her leg between Catherine’s, forcing her onto her back and following her over. “I wanted to see if you were really worried about the traffic.”

“I think you have your answer,” Catherine said, knowing Rebecca must feel the rush of wetness where her thigh was pressed to Catherine’s center. “I do have appointments, though.”

“Don’t worry,” Rebecca murmured, kissing her way down Catherine’s body. “I’ll use the siren.”

v

Six hours later, Catherine leaned back in her office chair and closed her eyes, allowing herself a few minutes to relive the earlier moments of pleasure. The sex had been wonderful, but what lingered with her now was the unique feeling of connection to Rebecca that she shared with no one else in her life. Between clients, she thought about calling her just to hear her voice, but then she remembered that Rebecca had said she would be in court that morning and unavailable. Because the HPCU functioned outside the normal hierarchy of the department, Catherine often forgot that Rebecca still had to perform the routine duties of any other detective. The phone call would have to wait until the afternoon.

Just as she reached for a stack of insurance forms, her secretary rang.

“The special appointment you’re expecting has arrived,” Joyce said with a hint of disapproval. She’d informed Catherine in no uncertain terms earlier that morning that there was no time in her schedule to squeeze in another patient. She’d been very unhappy when Catherine told her she would work through her lunch hour.

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“Thank you. Detective Mitchell is with her?”

“Yes.”

“Send them both in, please.”

“You have clinic at one,” Joyce said curtly.

“I know. Thank you.”

“Do you want me to get you a salad to take with you?” Joyce asked in a conciliatory tone.

“That would be wonderful. You’re a dream.”

“I know.”

Catherine smiled to herself as she waited for Joyce to bring Dellon and Irina back. When the door opened, she walked around her desk to greet them. The beautiful young woman with Dellon was not what she’d expected. In Catherine’s experience, criminals tended to be either extremely guarded, hostile, or psychopathically charming. This woman appeared to be confident and without subterfuge. Her gaze was clear eyed and direct, and she regarded Catherine with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion.

Adjusting her expectations for the interview, Catherine shook hands with her as the introductions were made, then asked, “Do you know why we asked you to come in to talk to me?”

Irina sat on the edge of the armchair as though poised to flee at the first opportunity. “Mitch said if we talked, it might help the police.”

“Ordinarily, I don’t discuss with the police the things I talk about with my clients,” Catherine said, settling back into the chair behind her desk. “Are you comfortable with Mitch being here? Because you do know Mitch is a police officer.”

Irina smiled. “I know who he is. He can hear what we say.”

“Detective Mitchell?” Catherine said. “If at any point Irina wishes you to leave, I’ll ask you to do that and what we discuss after that time will be confidential.”

“I understand, ma’am.”

“Before we talk about what’s happened to you since you arrived here,” Catherine said, “I wonder if you could tell me a little bit about your life before. Where you grew up. Detective Mitchell said you have a sister. What about the rest of your family?”

“My sister is my only family,” Irina said. After a slight pause, she told them in a dispassionate voice of the small Russian village where she grew up. Of her father who died in an accident when she was too

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young to remember him. Of her mother, uneducated and unskilled, who had barely been able to provide for them. Of the men who offered young girls a way out of poverty, a chance to realize their dreams in a bright and shiny new world.

For the first time, her voice faltered and she looked down at her hands. “I brought my sister here and now I cannot protect her.” Tears glittered on her lashes and she turned to Mitch, reaching out a hand.

“Even if we find her, how can I get her away from these men?”

Dell clasped Irina’s hand. “There might be something we can do about that. I didn’t tell you before, because it’s not totally set up yet, but my lieutenant called me this morning. She’s arranging for you and your sister to go into the witness protection plan. When we find her.”

“Protection?” Irina looked uncertain. “We will have to go away?”

“Yes.” Dell explained the plan, trying to make the legal process sound more straightforward than it really was. “You’ll be sent somewhere secret where you can start fresh. You’ll have people to help you. And you’ll be safe.”

“What if we do not want this? To go away?”

“Irina,” Catherine said gently. “You don’t have to decide that right now. You’ll be able to talk to the federal marshals who are in charge of the program. Then you can decide. But Mitch and the other police officers want to help you and your sister.”

“Not the man who put me in jail,” Irina said. “He does not want to help me.”

“Ah,” Catherine said. “Forgive me. I was speaking of the officers who work with Mitch. You can trust them.”

Irina threaded her fingers through the detective’s. “I trust Mitch.”

Catherine understood the message. Irina believed Mitch and probably no one else. “Tell me about your sister.”

Irina picked up the purse she had placed by her feet. She rummaged in it for a few seconds, then withdrew a photograph and handed it to Catherine. “This is her. She was only thirteen in this picture.” She smiled sadly. “She looks different now.”

“We can have our artist work with the image,” Dell said. “Change it until it looks more like her now.”

“You will not need to,” Irina said. “You already have a better picture of her.”

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Dell frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“You showed it to me last night.”

v

“We finally got a bit of a break,” Rebecca told Sloan and Jason when she arrived at the HPCU headquarters. “One of the girls Sandy got a shot of at the party the other night is Irina’s sister.”

“Which one?” Jason said, pulling up the images.

“Give me the full-room shot.” Rebecca leaned down and pointed to one of two girls flanking a distinguished-looking man in his sixties.

He was fondling one girl’s breasts while the other girl worked the erection that jutted through his open fly. She pointed to the girl with her hand on his penis. “That’s her.”

“And that’s the Most Reverend Joseph Thomas,” Jason announced.

“He’s that bishop who’s been getting all the press for wanting to root out gay priests, even if they’re celibate.”

“Shit,” Rebecca muttered. If politics weren’t bad enough, now she had a high-ranking cleric in the middle of her case. “This has the makings of a real media nightmare.”

“You know,” Sloan said, “as soon as Clark gets wind of this, that’s the guy he’s going to go after. The church will want the priest to cooperate and turn state’s evidence. The other guys in this photo—they might get fancy lawyers to keep their names out of the paper, protect their interests. But with a priest, nothing has to be made public and he’s still completely fucked if they ship him off to some backwater parish. His political power and influence within the church will go up in smoke.”

“And once Clark gets his witness,” Jason added, “he’s not going to care about anything else. He might even convince the brass to pull the plug on our end of things.”

“Which leaves us with nothing,” Rebecca said, thinking about the men who would still be left to take advantage of girls like Sandy.

“Jason, print me out a copy of Bishop Thomas and his friends. I feel the need for a little salvation coming on.”

v

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Rebecca knocked on the door to Sandy’s room. “You decent?”

“No. Come on in.”

Laughing, Rebecca pushed the door open. Sandy, wearing a PPD

T-shirt, sat up in bed, the covers pooled around her waist. She had an open magazine in her lap. The left side of her face was swollen and when she tossed the magazine aside, she moved carefully.

“Mind a visitor for a few minutes?”

“No, I wanted to talk to you anyhow.” Sandy patted the space beside her. “You can sit here. I’m too sore to jump your bones.”

There was no chair in the room, so Rebecca sat where Sandy indicated and clasped her hands around her bent knee. “How are the ribs?”

“They’re okay as long as I don’t move too fast or poke them.”

“I’m sorry about the other night.”

Sandy narrowed her eyes. “Why? You didn’t hit me.”

“You shouldn’t have been out without backup. Not on this operation.” Rebecca shook her head. “We should have placed an undercover cop with you. Someone from vice, maybe.”

“No way,” Sandy said dismissively. “You know these guys can smell a cop in the next state. Plus, you’re not going to have anyone young enough. These guys, they like them young. I’m surprised I made the cut.”

“You look young, Sandy.” Rebecca took a deep breath. “I don’t want you going out again.”

Sandy sat up straighter, then grimaced. “Fuck.”

Rebecca put her hand on Sandy’s arm. “Hey. Take it easy. I didn’t come here to upset you.”

“Then stop acting like you get a say in my life.”

“I get a say in what you do for me. And I say—”

“Look, I feel like shit. I don’t want to fight with you, okay?” Sandy covered Rebecca’s hand.

The contact was so out of character that Rebecca took a few seconds to react. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up right now. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I will be.” Sandy withdrew her hand. “But I’m glad you came by.

There’s something I need to talk to you about. Something I don’t want you to tell Dell.”

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Justice for All

“Sandy.” Rebecca shook her head. “She’s my officer. Hell. And you’re my CI. I knew this was a bad idea.”

Sandy laughed and then caught herself, rubbing her side. “Just listen. Okay? You think you can do that?”

“I’ll try, but it’s not my strong suit.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Sandy hitched up the oversized T-shirt that had fallen down over her shoulder. “Here’s the deal.”

When she finished, Rebecca studied her for a long moment. Sandy held her gaze, looking years older than her age.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I really am.”

“Okay then.”

Sandy’s eyes flashed. “You mean it?”

“Yes. I mean it.” Rebecca squeezed Sandy’s knee. “But you have to deal with Mitchell. And soon.”

“Okay,” Sandy said with a sigh. “I will.”

• 251 •

• 252 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER TwENTy-FIvE

Alone in the office, Sloan stared at the screen. A lot more than a minute had passed since she’d traced the IP address for the computer where the images of Michael and Zamora had originated and pulled up a name and address for the account. Frye expected her to provide the details as soon as she was certain, preferably within sixty seconds. Before she took action. That was the part Sloan struggled with, because as soon as she turned over the information, what happened next would be out of her hands. And Michael’s safety was at risk.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trying to sort through the labyrinth of choices, some of which would take her well outside the law.

“What’s the matter?” Michael said from behind her.

“I’m pretty sure if I open my eyes,” Sloan said, not moving, “I’m going to see the Sword of Damocles right above my head.”

“So if I’ve got this right,” Michael began to knead the bunched muscles in Sloan’s shoulders, “you know something you’re not certain you want to know. That’s not like you.”

“I know.” Sloan opened her eyes, swiveled her chair around, and tugged Michael onto her lap. Kissing her neck, she said, “I think I’m losing my edge.”

“No, you’re not. You’re finding a different edge.” Michael rested her cheek against the top of Sloan’s head. “Tell me.”

Sloan hesitated. Involving Michael went against every instinct she had. Her need for secrecy, her need to protect, her need to mete out justice according to her own rules. She’d lived by those tenets all her

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life, and the one time she’d broken her own rules, she’d paid with her career and a huge piece of her heart. But all that had transpired before Michael. And now everything had changed.

She took a breath, and before she could question where this new path would take her, she said, “I know who sent the pictures of you and Zamora. I’m supposed to tell Frye.” She looked at her watch. “Twenty-two minutes ago.”

“Why haven’t you?”

“Why aren’t you asking me who it is?”

Michael caressed the side of Sloan’s neck. “Because I care about you more than I care about them.”

“If I tell Rebecca, then what happens will be beyond my control.”

“What do you want to do that Rebecca would stop you from doing?” Michael asked as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing and she felt slightly sick to her stomach. She didn’t fear what Sloan was capable of, only what Sloan might suffer as a consequence of her actions. She felt as if she were walking through a minefield, but she would not be the victim of a misstep. Sloan would. Michael was certain of only one thing. All that mattered was helping Sloan find her way to a decision that would not destroy her. “Baby?”

“I want to pay her a visit.”

Michael stiffened. “Her?”

“Yes. The redhead you saw talking to me at the fund-raiser the other night.” Sloan laughed shortly. “I guess that wasn’t a coincidence.”

“Apparently not,” Michael said coolly. “What kind of game do you think she’s playing?”

“I imagine they’re hoping to buy my cooperation with a threat to you.”

“So why would she reveal herself to you at all? Why not a phone call? A message on your computer?” Michael walked a few paces away, then spun around. “She might be in league with Zamora, or someone like that. But she’s got her own agenda.” Michael pointed a finger at Sloan. “And you are on the menu.”

Sloan’s eyebrows rose. “Me?”

“Darling, you are so clueless sometimes.” Michael walked back and leaned down, gripping the chair arms on either side of Sloan’s body.

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“I thought at one point the other night, when I noticed the two of you together, that she was flirting with you, but I told myself it was just my imagination. Obviously it wasn’t. She has designs on you.”

“Designs?” Sloan thought back to the business card and the phone number. “She gave me her card. With her home number on it.”

“Did she?” Michael studied Sloan through narrowed eyes. “Does that happen to you often? Women you’ve just met giving you their number?”

“Not anymore.” Sloan held up her left hand, where she wore a platinum band that matched the one on Michael’s finger. “But I knew something was off, that’s why I kept it.”

Sloan lifted Michael’s arms away from the chair and kissed her soundly as she stood up. Talia Ballenger had made a mistake by revealing herself. She’d misjudged just how meaningless Sloan found the attentions of any other woman except Michael.

“Not so fast.” Michael grabbed the back of Sloan’s shirt when she would have hurried away. “What are you going to do?”

“Why, I’m going to call Rebecca, of course.” Sloan pulled Michael close and kissed her once again. “What else?”

v

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Bishop Thomas,”

Rebecca said, taking the chair he indicated across from his desk.

The Most Reverend Joseph Thomas was even more distinguished looking in person than the poor-resolution photograph had conveyed.

He wore a black suit and dark shirt with a clerical collar. His steel gray hair was thick and expertly cut, his body fit, and his face tanned and healthy. His blue eyes regarded her with speculation.

“How can I help you, Officer?”

“Lieutenant.” Rebecca crossed her legs and regarded him silently for a moment, letting him look her over. She waited until his gaze flicked away. “I wonder if you could account for your whereabouts Saturday evening from, say, ten p.m. until three a.m.?”

“I can’t think why you would need to know that,” he said with casual confidence.

“I imagine if you gave it a little time, you would.” Rebecca smiled.

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“Since it was only a few days ago, I suspect you remember. So perhaps you would just indulge me so that I won’t have to take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”

Bishop Thomas’s eyes became glacial. “Do I need to consult an attorney, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t know.” Rebecca withdrew the photo from her inside pocket. She’d had Jason print it on photo paper, highlighting the date and time stamp. She slid it across the desk to him. “What do you think?”

He looked at the photo for a long moment without picking it up.

Then he pushed it back to her, obviously knowing that other copies existed and that keeping that one would not protect him. Rebecca was impressed with his control. He was faced with potentially ruinous exposure, and if they could find the girls in the photograph and prove their ages, he could be prosecuted for rape and would undoubtedly go to prison. Still, by all outward appearances, he was unruffled.

“The fact that you’re here and haven’t gone to my superiors or,” he laughed humorlessly, “simply arrested me, tells me there’s something that you want.”

“There are a lot of things that I want,” Rebecca said softly. “I would be happy just to see you in prison, and if that’s all I can get out of this, that will be enough.”

“But?” He steepled his fingers under his chin, as if waiting patiently for her to confess so that he could absolve her of her sins.

For a few seconds, Rebecca wondered if he really believed he was above the law. “Arresting you would make my day. But I’d rather make my week or even a whole month. I want the men who organized this little soirée.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “And you know who they are. If you want to plead ignorance, you certainly may.

But then I’m going to walk you out of this building in handcuffs and let the lawyers fight it out. And I guarantee you’ll spend time in a cell while they do.”

The bishop nodded. “I don’t suppose you’d care that I have some very important friends who might be unhappy if you did that.”

“Not a bit.”

“No, I didn’t think so. What do you want?”

“I want to know how it works. Who you call when you want…

What? A date?”

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Justice for All

He winced. “A companion.”

Rebecca thought of the young girl with her hand on the man’s penis, and the fact that he could sit across from her as if it hadn’t happened. She had to struggle not to cuff him on the spot. “I want to know who you call. Who gives instructions as to where to go. Who do you pay? I want to know how it works.”

“And then?”

“And then I want you to request an evening’s companionship.”

v

“You’re overstepping on this, Lieutenant,” ADA Eva Dunbar snapped when Rebecca laid out the plan for her.

After she’d left the Bishop Thomas, Rebecca had called the thirty-five-year-old African-American prosecutor and asked her to meet in a coffee bar near City Hall. She’d chosen Dunbar because she’d worked with her a few times before and knew she had a sense of the big picture.

Dunbar wasn’t about a quick and easy win if there was a bigger prize to be had, even if there was some risk involved.

“If you’re not interested, I’m sure the feds will be.”

Eva Dunbar wore a deep red Armani suit with a thin black shell and heels. She and Rebecca were nearly the same height, but Dunbar’s body was fuller than Rebecca’s. When she leaned across the table, her dark eyes sparked with irritation. “I’m not a rookie, Rebecca.”

“I know,” Rebecca said with a slight smile. “That’s why I picked you.”“If you trusted the feds, you would’ve gone to them first.”

“You might be right.” Rebecca shrugged. “But I favor the home team. So I thought you’d want a shot.”

“What I want,” Dunbar said, “is to make my own deals. What did you promise him for his cooperation?”

“Not a thing. Only that his cooperation would be given serious consideration.”

“I want to nail his ass to his own cross,” Dunbar said vehemently.

“Perhaps you could keep that sentiment to yourself until I get the one I’m after.”

Dunbar leaned back in her seat. “You really think you’re going to get Zamora?”

• 257 •

RADclY fFe

“I think I’m going to get someone high enough up the ladder to give him to me.”

“Wouldn’t that be pretty.”

When Dunbar smiled, Rebecca had the sense of a powerful predator savoring the coming kill. “So do we have a deal?”

“You’ll still owe me for not coming to me first with this.”

“Consider me in your debt.”

v

“Hey, babe,” Dell called, walking into the bedroom at Sloan and Michael’s. “Your sexy cop is home.”

“Good. Because I want to shower and I need you to wash my hair.”

Dell frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

“I’m sure if you don’t give me a hand, you’re going to be one dead sexy cop.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m on it.” Dell kicked off her boots and shed her shirt and jeans in record time. Naked, she walked to the bed and pulled down the covers. Holding out her hand, she said, “Ready?”

Sandy surveyed her, taking her time, looking over Dell’s wiry muscular frame, her small neat breasts, her tight ass. She licked her lips. “Man, do I want a piece of you.”

Watching Sandy’s tongue skate across her soft, full lips, Dell got hot all over and her clit went wild. “You just gave me a full-on hard-on, babe.”

“Yeah?” Sandy smiled in satisfaction. “That’s nice.”

Dell groaned and ran the flat of her hand down her stomach, brushing lightly through the crisp hair at the apex of her thighs. “It would be except you’re in no shape to take care of it.”

“So?” Sandy patted the bed next to her. “You’ve got a hand. Get your butt down here and kiss me while you do the job.”

“You sure?” Dell was already having trouble catching her breath.

“Move, rookie.” Sandy eased back on the pillows and turned onto her good side. When Dell stretched out beside her, she skimmed her fingers over Dell’s chest, lightly brushing her nipples. “Come here, baby.”

Dell almost forgot about the pressure in her clit because Sandy’s

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Justice for All

tongue teasing inside her mouth, playing over her lips, sucking and nibbling, felt so good she got lost in the kissing. When Sandy scratched her nails down the center of Dell’s belly, her clit jerked and she remembered it in a big way. Dell groaned and cupped her crotch in the palm of her hand.

“Need to come, baby?” Sandy whispered, flicking the tip of her tongue rapidly over Dell’s.

“Yeah,” Dell gasped roughly. “You get me so hot.”

“Let me watch you jerk off.” Sandy covered Dell’s hand and pushed her fingers down on her clit. “Keep your eyes open while you do it.”

Sandy started kissing her again and Dell didn’t have to think about the rest of it. She just stroked and squeezed, drifting in the blue of Sandy’s eyes until the tension deep in her belly started to uncoil and lick at the edges of her consciousness like flames flaring from embers.

“I’m gonna come, babe,” Dell murmured against Sandy’s mouth.

“You feel so good.”

“I love you, Dell,” Sandy said, sweeping her hand down Dell’s back to massage her ass. “Oh yeah. That’s it, baby.”

Dell whimpered, clenching her ass as she pumped into Sandy’s hand, coming in long, hard pulses while Sandy kissed her. Finally she closed her eyes and let her head fall onto Sandy’s breast. “You kill me.”

“Good.” Sandy slapped her butt. “Don’t fall asleep, rookie. I want my shower.”

“Man, I can’t move.” Dell flopped over onto her back, grinning.

“It never feels that good when I do it by myself.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dog. Get up.”

Dell had a better idea. “I could, you know, make you come really easy so you wouldn’t move too much.”

“Oh yeah? Since when.” Sandy eased her legs to the floor and grabbed Dell’s arm to steady herself as she stood. “I’m horny, but I’d rather wait until I don’t have to worry about breaking anything when I come.” She looped her arm around Dell’s waist. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Okay, babe.” Dell led her into the adjoining bathroom. “Sit down while I get the shower ready.” When the water felt warm enough, she helped Sandy up and joined her in the shower. “Stand still. I’ll do everything.”

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“Deal.”

Dell squirted shampoo into her palm and lathered Sandy’s hair.

“Did everything go okay today?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah. Irina told us that you got a shot of her sister at that deal the other night.” Dell cupped Sandy’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You did a really good job, San.”

“About that,” Sandy said quietly.

“Look, I know you want to help. I get that. But—”

“I talked to Frye today, Dell.”

Dell tensed. “Yeah?”

Sandy punched her shoulder. “Don’t get all bristly right away.”

“You told her you want to go back out again.”

“Well, yeah,” Sandy said as if Dell were being dumb. “But I talked to her about something else too.”

Dell frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna go to work for Michael.” Sandy cradled Dell’s face and kissed her. “I’m going to be a cop.”

• 260 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER TwENTy-SIx

Sloan pulled her Harley Super Glide into an empty parking space across from Talia Ballenger’s address on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. She swung her leg over the big machine, clipped her helmet onto the back, and slid her hands into the pockets of her black motorcycle jacket while she sauntered across the street. Casually dodging the cars as she cut across six lanes of traffic streaming along either side of the Parkway, she checked out the building, recognizing it as one of the most exclusive in the city, gated and guarded, with a waiting list that was more for form than function. No one got one of the luxurious apartments unless someone died and willed it to them, or they knew some very important people in very high places.

A security guard behind the desk in the lobby was dressed in an elaborate uniform that was supposed to make him look like a doorman. It didn’t. He regarded her as if she were lost. “May I help you, madam?”

Sloan smiled. “I’m here to see Ms. Ballenger. The penthouse, right?”

“Are you expected?” he said with just a little more warmth.

Sloan tilted her head from side to side. “Expected. In a manner of speaking. Yes.”

His brows knit as if he didn’t understand the language.

“Madam?”

Sighing, Sloan leaned her elbow on the ornate, carved wood counter. “Call her up and tell her it’s Sloan.”

“Of course. She usually lets me know if she’s expecting a visitor,”

he said apologetically. Apparently, it wasn’t so unusual for Talia to

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receive female visitors. Even ones who didn’t look like they belonged in her social circle.

“I’m sure she’s been busy.”

His face flushed, but he said nothing. After pushing a number on a portable phone, he muttered a few words, then set the handset down briskly. Coming around the side of the counter, he removed a small key from his belt. “Right this way, please.”

Sloan followed and waited while he keyed the private elevator.

“Hers is the only residence on the top floor. Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks. I’m planning on it.” As the doors slid closed, she saw him flush once again.

The ride up was swift and silent, and when the doors glided open she stepped out into a foyer as large and well appointed as some people’s living rooms. Thick wool carpets, a crystal chandelier, paintings on three walls above dark wood wainscoting, and a solid wood door worthy of an English mansion. A buzzer was discreetly inset into the wide, carved molding, but before Sloan had a chance to push it, the door opened.

“This is a nice surprise,” Talia said in a voice like warm honey.

She wore a dressing gown—not quite a robe, but not a dress, either. The maroon silk dipped sharply into the cleavage between her obviously unfettered breasts, and the belt tied loosely at her waist was more an invitation to be opened than anything else. Her legs were bare below the knee-length hem, her feet ensconced in backless sandals.

Sloan leaned her shoulder against the open door. “I assumed I was invited. You did give me your card.”

“Yes, but my address wasn’t on it.” Talia stepped aside so Sloan could enter. “I just opened a bottle of Romanée-Conti. Won’t you join me.” “Not the ’78, I hope,” Sloan said, referencing one of the costliest red Burgundy vintages ever produced by the fabled vineyard.

Talia smiled slowly and surveyed Sloan from head to toe. “Why not? I’m sure you’re worth it.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me.” Sloan followed her through the high-ceilinged living room, noting a dining room off to one side beyond a set of double French doors, and a hallway that she presumed led to the bedrooms.

They passed through an archway into a formal library where a fire

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burned in a marble fireplace. A laptop occupied the center of a huge desk positioned in front of floor-to-ceiling windows with a million-dollar view of the city. Several books rested on an antique cigarette table next to one of the chairs facing the fireplace. An open bottle of wine and a single glass sat on a silver tray on a low table between the two empty chairs.

“Please.” Talia gestured toward one of the chairs. She retrieved another wineglass from a sideboard near the fireplace and poured two glasses of wine. Handing one to Sloan, who had remained standing, she said, “Let me take your jacket.”

Sloan placed the wine on the low table and shrugged out of her jacket, aware that Talia was watching her intently. She wore a black T-shirt with her jeans. She tossed the jacket on the floor next to her chair and sat down, retrieving her wineglass. “No need to bother hanging it up.”

Talia settled into the opposite chair, one leg tucked beneath her.

Her gown clung to her thighs, opening enough to show a triangle of tanned flesh from her knee to the top of her leg. Sloan glanced down briefly, then looked up into her eyes, waiting.

“How did you find me?” Talia asked, cradling the wineglass in her palm.

“Phonebook?”

Talia laughed. “I don’t think so.” She sipped her wine and regarded Sloan over the top of the glass. “Unlisted.”

“Of course.” Sloan grinned. “This is an excellent red.”

“A modern classic.” Talia leaned forward to replace her wineglass on the table between them. The folds of her gown shimmered, affording a tantalizing glimpse of the inner curve of her breast. When she settled back, she ran her fingers casually from the base of her throat down the center of her chest and back up again. “I believe it’s your move.”

Sloan positioned her wineglass next to Talia’s and bent down to reach into the inner pocket of her jacket. She withdrew an envelope and passed it wordlessly to Talia. Their fingers touched briefly as Talia accepted it. Talia’s long, tapered fingers were warm and soft. The only sound in the room as Talia looked through the prints, one after the other, was the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. At length, she replaced the photos in the envelope and handed it back.

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“You’re better than I expected,” Talia said.

“You weren’t easy to track,” Sloan replied. “Cost me a few sleepless nights.”

Talia smiled wryly. “I suppose that’s some comfort.” She gestured toward the envelope that Sloan had dropped onto her jacket. “She’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Zamora is quite taken with her.”

“If he touches her, I’ll kill him.”

Talia regarded Sloan intently. “Is that why you came? So that I could give him a message?”

“No. If he doesn’t already know that, he’s a fool. And I don’t think he is.”

“Then why expose yourself to me?”

Sloan chuckled. “Have I? You already know who I am.” Her smile disappeared and her voice dropped. “And you know what matters to me. What else is there?”

“Yes, but now I know that you know who I am. So you’ve lost the advantage.”

Sloan spread her legs, draped her arms over the sides of the antique chair, and watched the fire eat away at the substance of the wood. “On the surface it looks like a stalemate.” She glanced over at Talia. “But I have one more move to make.”

“What would that be?” Talia refilled their wineglasses. “You can’t prove I sent those images. I often have visitors. My computer is readily accessible.”

“I doubt any of them have the skill to infiltrate a highly protected computer network at Port Authority, intercept and reroute dozens of shipping containers, and alter the security programs set to track them.”

Sloan was impressed with Talia’s nerves. Her expression didn’t waver.

She gave no sign of being shocked or anxious. “But you do. And given time, I’ll be able to prove it.”

Talia crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. “An ambitious undertaking.”

“Do you want to bet against me?”

The silence stretched for several minutes until Talia sighed. “No.

I don’t think so.”

Secretly, Sloan was relieved. Talia was good. Very good. And the

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odds were probably sixty-forty that Sloan would actually be able to prove her complicity in the human trafficking operation at the port.

She had wagered that like her, Talia would bet the odds. And when losing meant decades in a federal prison, a smart woman would not risk coming up short.

“I should tell you,” Talia said, “that I am not in his employ. I’m a freelancer. I don’t have any information of value.”

Sloan and Rebecca had discussed the merits of arresting Talia and trying to force her into testifying against Kratos Zamora. They’d agreed that the evidence supporting her involvement in anything illegal was thin, and cyberevidence was often the least convincing to a jury because they didn’t understand it. Any good attorney would know that and advise Talia not to deal.

“I would imagine that your freelance enterprises must be very interesting. I’d really like to get a look at them one of these days.”

Sloan spoke casually, but she knew that Talia would get the message.

Sloan had the skill to chase her through cyberspace for as long as she wanted, monitoring her activities and making it very difficult for her to do business. Eventually, Talia would slip up, and when she did, Sloan would be there. She was not only a threat to Talia’s business, but her freedom.

“While I think you’re terribly attractive,” Talia said, “and I admit I had hoped we would have the opportunity to share some of our skills privately, I’m not interested in a long-term relationship.”

“No promises if your name surfaces in the future,” Sloan said,

“but at the moment, neither am I.”

“Then what is it you want?”

“Nothing very complicated. I just want you to send your…

client…a report with a little something extra from me.”

“You understand that if he discovers I’ve compromised him, he’ll kill me.”

“Fortunately for you, there are only a few of us good enough to prove it.” Sloan grabbed her jacket and stood up. She removed a jump drive from the front pocket and held it out to Talia. “I think you know what to do with this.”

Talia rose and closed her fingers around Sloan’s. She stepped so close their bodies touched. Skimming her palm over Sloan’s chest, she said, “It’s not too late for that private conversation. After all, we’ve

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already started, there’s still half a bottle of wine, and we both know it would be good.”

Sloan extracted her fingers and dropped the jump drive into Talia’s open palm. “You were quite a challenge, and I enjoyed the hunt. But make no mistake. If any harm comes to Michael, I’ll come for you too.

And I’ll never stop.”

“I envy her,” Talia said.

Sloan shrugged into her jacket and started toward the door, Talia beside her. “Thanks for the wine.”

“You’re welcome. I’m only sorry I couldn’t offer you more than that.” Talia kissed her on the mouth, then opened the door. “Good night.”

v

As soon as Sloan turned the corner, she saw Rebecca’s Corvette parked across the street from their headquarters. She rolled into the garage, parked, and rode the elevator to the third floor.

“That was fast,” Rebecca said. Rebecca was alone in the conference room. “Should we have gone in wired?”

Sloan kicked out a chair and dropped into it. “No. She’s careful.

We wouldn’t have gotten anything.”

“Did we get something?”

“Nothing you want to know about.” Grinning, Sloan checked her watch. By morning she expected to be walking around in Kratos Zamora’s virtual office. She’d be able to see who he e-mailed, his financial statements, his business plans, his real estate holdings, and anything else he did with his computer. The cybertap didn’t precisely fall under the investigative parameters the team was officially bound by, but then the laws regarding cyberinvestigation were still murky. “To be safe, we’ll need to corroborate anything we eventually want to bring to court, but we’re finally getting ahead in this game.”

Rebecca nodded, thinking of Jeff and Jimmy, and the men who had taken their fists to Sandy. “Work it.”

“That’s my plan.” Sloan started for the door, then turned back. “I, uh…I want to thank you for trusting me on this. I know I screwed up not telling you sooner.”

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“Yeah, you did.” Rebecca rubbed both hands over her face. “But I never doubted which side of the line you stood on.”

“Thanks.” Sloan shrugged. “I suppose you know you look like shit. Maybe you should call it a night.”

“I’m going to. I just need to check in with Mitchell.”

“Okay then.” Sloan left her there, hoping she’d get some rest, because she had a feeling things were going to move quickly now.

Upstairs, Michael was waiting on the sofa in the living room, curled up in the corner, reading. Sloan pulled off her jacket, tossed it on the adjoining chair, and kissed her.

“She gave you wine?” Michael grabbed Sloan’s arm and pulled her down next to her.

“A very nice red Burgundy.”

Michael raised her eyebrows. “Friendly of her.”

“We parted on friendly terms.”

“You got what you needed?”

Sloan nodded. “Yes.”

“I gather she didn’t.”

Laughing, Sloan kissed her again. “You’d have to ask her, but I don’t think so.”

“No need.” Michael cupped the back of Sloan’s neck and pulled her closer. The lingering taste of wine and the heat of Sloan’s mouth were intoxicating. “I’m just feeling a little territorial.”

“I’ve got a few hours before I need to get to work.”

Michael reached behind her and blindly dropped the book onto the end table. “Then let’s not waste any time.”

v

Dell knocked on the open conference room door. “You want to see me, Lieutenant?”

Rebecca was leaning back in her chair, her eyes closed. “Come on in. Have a seat, Detective.” She straightened. “Any word from Irina?”

“Yes ma’am. I was on my way back from seeing her when you called.” Dell pulled out the chair opposite Rebecca. “Olik left a message at the club. He wants to see her Wednesday night.”

“She’s still at the apartment?”

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“Yes. I’m going to meet her there and we’ll go over to Ziggie’s together.”

“I don’t think we can risk wiring you. Not for the first meet with Olik. He’s going to be suspicious.”

“I agree. But at least we’ll be at the club. That’s probably safer than meeting him anywhere else.”

Rebecca nodded. “I’m going to put Jasmine inside again.”

Dell nodded. “Jasmine will need an escort. One of the Kings, maybe.”

“How much do you trust them? I don’t want to bring them in on the whole investigation, but they need to know there’s some risk.”

“I think they’ve got a pretty good idea what’s going on. I trust them.” Dell considered the guys. “Phil has a bit of a thing for Irina.

He’d be willing to help.”

“We’ll have Jasmine talk to them.”

“Okay.” Dell hesitated. “Do we have anything from Bishop Thomas yet?”

“He was instructed to put a message out that he wants in on the next big party. We’re waiting for someone to contact him. Hopefully Irina will get some idea as to when and where that will be in time for us to set up the takedown. I want her to be there.”

“And Sandy?”

“We’ll play that as it comes.” Rebecca watched Dell, waiting.

“She told me what she wants to do. About applying to the academy.

That you’ll back her application.”

“She’s a natural. And she wants it.” Rebecca grinned. “She’s a lot like you that way.”

“I just want you know,” Dell said as she stood, “that I’m glad she’s got you to help her.”

“She’s got something she needs even more than that. She’s got you, Mitchell. Don’t ever let her forget that.”

“No ma’am. I won’t.”

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ChAPTER TwENTy-SEvEN

Darling, your brother is here,” Sofia Zamora said from the doorway of Kratos’s den.

Kratos smiled at his wife and motioned her in as he placed the report he was reading next to his coffee cup on the table where he was enjoying a late breakfast. The small dining alcove adjacent to his den overlooked the gardens in the rear of their home. “Tell him to come back. And would you have Marianna bring in more coffee and food.”

“Of course.” She leaned down and kissed him. “You won’t forget that we have tickets to the symphony on Friday.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” He caught her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. She smelled of roses, the delicate scent reminding him of her deceptive strength. Her small-boned figure, luminous dark eyes, and pale skin made her appear fragile, but he knew that, like the rose, she was not only beautiful but also dangerous. She guarded her territory—her family—as fiercely as he guarded his business. They were well matched.

“And tell Jacqueline,” his wife said, referring to his private secretary, “to schedule you for a haircut too.” She ran her fingers through the hair just above his collar. “You’re looking a little uncivilized.”

He laughed and pulled out his PDA to send a message. “Done.”

“Thank you, darling.” Sofia skimmed his mouth with hers. “I’ll see you tonight.”

Kratos watched her depart, feeling a pull in his groin. Even after two children she was still striking, and he knew he was the envy of other men. He had chosen well. He stretched out his legs, pleased with

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his life. Gregor entered followed by the maid, who pushed a cart laden with more coffee and pastries. She arranged these on the table and quickly left without making eye contact with either man.

“You’re up early,” Kratos said. Much of Gregor’s part of the business involved meetings with men who spent their nights in bars or private clubs and didn’t go to bed until after sunrise. Ordinarily, his brother’s day began at three in the afternoon.

“I felt the need for confession this morning,” Gregor said, helping himself to coffee.

“And now you feel closer to God?” Kratos laughed.

“God’s money, definitely.”

“I take it our religious friend enjoyed his evening out.”

“Not only the evening, but the company.” Gregor tilted back in his chair with a smirk. “Apparently one of the girls twists his crank in just the right direction. He wants her again.”

“How soon?”

“Whatever she did to him, he’s addicted. As soon as we can set something up.”

Kratos frowned. The interruption in their supply lines from the port, coupled with a lapse in security at one of the Russian safe houses, had strained their escort business. If all their girls were out on private calls, it was difficult to set up a group gathering quickly. “Will he solo?”

“No. He thinks he’s more anonymous if he’s with the others.”

Gregor laughed. “Who knows. Maybe he’s secretly a homo, and he gets off watching the other guys get their pipes cleaned.”

“Can we accommodate him?”

“We’ve got a couple other clients who are hot for an instant replay.

That makes it worth setting up something soon. Maybe the weekend.”

“What about the girl he wants?”

Gregor shrugged. “She’s one of the Russians. They can’t seem to keep track of their merchandise. Hopefully they haven’t lost her.” He finished his cheese Danish and brushed off his hands. “I’ll tell them to bring the same group as the last time. A few others want the same girls too. Jesus, you’d think when you were paying for it, all you’d care about was the pussy, not who it belonged to.”

“These are discerning men,” Kratos said dryly.

“Yeah, right.” Gregor squeezed his crotch and shook his head.

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“Set it up. Let me know if you have any problems.”

“I’ll put a call in to Olik.”

“Good.” Kratos checked his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with the board in an hour. Anything else?”

“Yeah. The Russians are grumbling. They want to know when they can start bringing girls in again. They’re running short in the clubs too.”

Kratos lifted the report he’d been reading and smiled. “I got an update this morning from Talia. She’s not only beautiful, she’s good.”

“Have you had a piece of that yet?”

Kratos had a quick flash of Talia’s smile as she denied him, and his temper spiked along with his erection. Determined not to give his brother the satisfaction of seeing his frustration, he ignored the uncomfortable throbbing in his groin. He’d have her soon enough. He could tell she was enjoying the game, but she was as ready as he was for it to end. “She’s been able to hack into the HPCU databases. They’re pulling back surveillance at the port.”

“Ha. Why?”

“Lack of manpower. And they couldn’t trace anything in the computers.” Kratos smiled with satisfaction. “Security will be tightened temporarily, but it shouldn’t take long to loosen up. It’s a big port and it costs money to keep a big security force.”

“What can I tell the Russians about resuming business as usual?”

“Tell them soon.”

“What else do they have?” Gregor asked, indicating the papers resting under Kratos’s hand.

“They’re focusing their investigation on the Russians, but thus far they’ve only identified a few street-level numbers runners. Nothing in our line of work.”

“Nothing to worry about, then.”

“No,” Kratos murmured, reaching down to adjust himself, letting his hand linger for a few seconds on the turgid reminder of his own power and prowess. “Nothing to worry about at all.”

v

Bishop Thomas opened the door to his study and motioned Rebecca inside, checking up and down the hall as if to be certain they

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were alone. Before the door had even closed behind her, he said sharply,

“I hope this is the last time.”

“Problem?” Rebecca reached for the credit card–sized recorder he passed to her over his desk. The thin wires leading to a microphone the size of a shirt button were barely visible to the naked eye.

“No.” He sat down behind his desk, his expression registering distaste. “He has no reason to be suspicious.”

“Good.”

“I can’t carry that to the meeting.”

Rebecca smiled thinly. “Meeting. Is that what you call it?”

He clenched his jaw and didn’t answer.

“Why not? Do they search you?”

He looked affronted. “Of course not. We’re paying them to see that we are protected. Just the same, it would be too easy for one of the women to find it.”

“The girls, you mean. The underage girls providing you with sexual services.” Rebecca remembered the pictures of the teenagers servicing him. He should be behind bars, and in all likelihood, the worst that would happen to him was that he would be transferred to another prestigious diocese in another city. She wondered if letting Talia Ballenger walk away was as difficult for Sloan as allowing this man go practically unpunished was for her.

“You have no right to put my life at risk.”

Rebecca shot up so quickly he flinched back in his chair. She leaned over his desk, her arms braced on either side of his expensive leather blotter. “The minute you put your hands on one of those girls you gave me the right to do whatever I want.”

“I’ve paid you back.”

“Not enough,” Rebecca whispered. “Not nearly enough.”

v

Rebecca placed the recorder in the center of the conference table.

“Jason, it’s all yours. Another link in the chain. I want a copy secured off-site. Nothing about this goes into the central records system.”

“Our network is completely separate from anything at One Police Plaza.” Sloan grinned. “And about a thousand times better.”

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“I hope so,” Rebecca said.

Jason, seated next to Sloan, picked up the small device. “Have you listened to it?”

“No. I didn’t trust myself not to ram it up his ass,” Rebecca said tightly.

“What about Irina’s sister?” Mitchell asked. “Did he say anything about her?”

“He was instructed to ask for the same girls as last time. He’s smart enough to do as he’s told at this point.”

Watts grunted. “He’s not as smart as he thinks. We’re going to bust him with the rest of those pervs, right, Loo?”

“We are.” Rebecca sighed. “But he’s probably going to get a walk on most of the charges. And no official record of any of them. But his superiors will be informed. That’s nonnegotiable.”

“It’s not right,” Mitchell muttered.

Rebecca swung around in her chair. “You’re right. It isn’t. But we trade up, or we get nothing.”

“I know.” Mitchell stared at the table, a muscle quivering along the edge of her jaw. “But it blows.”

Watts laughed. “You keep getting pissed off about pricks like this getting a deal, kid. It’ll keep your edge.”

“Sloan?” Rebecca asked. “Something for me?”

“Zamora got the package from Talia. It’s going to take Jason and me a few days to comb through his system, but he downloaded her report with what she supposedly found in our records. And left a little present behind.”

“So he thinks we’re getting nowhere at the port, correct?” Rebecca confirmed.

“Yes. By the time they start up their operations again, we should have traps in place to detect when they start manipulating the records of the containers coming in and their positions on the docks. We’ll be able to track them.”

“Even if Ballenger is behind it?”

“She won’t be,” Sloan said with certainty. “She’s too smart not to know when she’s out of the game.”

“Won’t Zamora be suspicious if she pulls out?” Mitchell asked.

“As far as he’ll know, thanks to the disinformation we’re feeding

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him,” Sloan said, “it’s safe to keep using the same system they had.”

She shrugged. “By the time they find out otherwise, I imagine she’ll be long gone.”

“So,” Rebecca said, surveying the team. “We’re just waiting for the last link in the chain. This tape ties Gregor to the girls, and when we have him, we’ll get his brother.” Everyone looked at Mitchell. “Now we need the Russians to make a clean sweep of all the garbage.”

“I guess I’m up tomorrow night,” Mitchell said.

“You’re ready.” Rebecca stood. “That’s it, then. Game’s on.”

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ChAPTER TwENTy-EIghT

Sandy checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror. The bruise along her jaw was still visible, but that wasn’t anything unusual for girls in her line of work. Her lip was puffy, but it didn’t hurt anymore. She cupped her breasts and jiggled them a little inside the tight white lycra top to get as much bang out of her minimal cleavage as she could. Then she shimmied into her miniskirt and pulled on knee-high white vinyl boots with three-inch heels.

“You look like such a whore,” she said to her reflection, laughing as she gelled her hair into short blond spikes. For the first time in her life she felt like she was wearing a costume and not her work clothes.

“Do you have any underwear on?” Mitch said from the doorway.

She spun around and looked him over. He wasn’t dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans tonight, but a tight-fitting black shirt with the top two buttons open, black pants that hugged his thighs and stretched across the bulge in his crotch, a slick black leather belt with a small square silver buckle, and black shoes.

“Jesus, you look like a player.” She stared pointedly at his crotch.

“Are you wearing any underwear?”

“I asked you first.”

Sandy thought about teasing him a little, but she knew he was still pissed off and they had serious work to do. “Yes. A thong. And no one is going to get close enough to find out. What about you?”

“You can see for yourself later. How do your ribs feel?”

“Baby,” Sandy said, “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I wasn’t ready.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed his ear. “Don’t be mad.”

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Mitch held her stiffly, his hands on her waist. “I know you don’t answer to anyone but the lieutenant, but I still wish you’d said something to me first.”

“You know what? You’re right. I should have.” She skimmed his mouth with hers. “I wasn’t even sure she’d go for it. But I still should have told you what I was thinking first.”

Mitch let out a sigh and rested his forehead against hers. “I know it makes the most sense for you to go with Jasmine tonight. They know you at Ziggie’s. I’m just worried.”

“I know. But we’re only going to be watching who’s coming in and out. And keeping an eye on you and Irina.”

“You haven’t seen us together before, San.”

Sandy gripped his shoulders and leaned back, pressing her pelvis into his. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach. She liked the way it felt. She imagined that Irina did too, and even if she didn’t, she’d have to play like she did. “These guys are killers, Mitch. You think I’m going to care if you have to feel her up or she grabs your dick to prove to these guys that the two of you are together?” She gave him a little bump with her hips. “I love you, and I know you love me. End of story.”

Mitch grinned. “Just the same, I’d appreciate it—if you notice any of the dick grabbing—if you’d look the other way.”

“What makes you think I wouldn’t enjoy watching?”

“Ha ha.”

“Okay. Maybe that’s pushing it. Come on.” Sandy took his hand.

“The lieutenant wants to brief us, right?”

Mitch held her back. “Just trust me to do my job, okay? I know you know what you’re doing, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Sandy stroked his cheek. “Right back at you, rookie.”

v

“Are you ready?” Mitch asked Irina as he opened the back door of Ziggie’s.

“Yes,” Irina said. “I’m tired of belonging to them.”

The hallway was dimly lit by a few low-wattage bulbs, and clouds of cigarette smoke swirled indolently in the air. The atmosphere was

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close and hot, smelling faintly of urine and liquor and sex. As they neared the end of the tunnel-like passageway, the ever-present bump and grind music grew louder. Two girls performed onstage, hip-thrusting and pole-humping in a weary parody of ecstasy. Even at midweek, the swivel stools at the bar were half full and most of the booths were occupied. Sex for sale never went out of style.

“Have a good vacation?” the bartender asked snidely, eyeing Irina as he swiped a dirty rag over the surface of the bar.

“Vodka shot and a beer,” Irina said, ignoring his remark.

“Olik’s looking for you,” he said, making no move to get the drinks.

Mitch straddled a stool with his back to the bartender and Irina snuggled in between his legs, leaning against the front of his body with her arms loosely draped around his waist. Her expression was bored.

“I am here now.” She raised a brow. “Are you on vacation?”

He snorted and went off to get their drinks.

Irina ran her fingers through Mitch’s hair and scanned the bar. She wore a wraparound emerald green blouse that left a generous expanse of her full breasts bare and a tight black skirt that came to mid-thigh.

With her heels she was almost as tall as Mitch.

Mitch kissed her neck and murmured, “Any sign of our friends?”

She arched her back and thrust her breasts against his chest, exposing more of her neck to his mouth. “Two men, Olik’s men…

bodyguards, at the end of the bar. He must be here somewhere.”

“What about the muscle we ran into the last time we were here?”

“I don’t see him.”

Mitch traced his tongue down the center of her throat. “Too bad.”

Irina laughed and tugged his head back with her fist in his hair.

“You are bad, new boy.”

“Are you complaining?”

“No.” Her eyes suddenly softened and the fingers in his hair slid down to caress his neck, catching Mitch off guard. Then her haughty expression returned. “Good boys bore me.”

The bartender delivered their drinks. Irina handed the beer to Mitch, then picked up the shot of vodka and tossed it back.

Mitch checked out the rest of the room as he sipped the beer.

Jasmine and Sandy sat at a small round table not far from the stage. He

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started in surprise when he noticed Phil with them. That hadn’t been part of the plan, and he wondered if the King had arrived by himself.

Looking for Irina, maybe. Sandy laughed at something Phil said and slid her chair closer to him, draping her arm around his neck. Phil grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. Sandy didn’t even glance in Mitch’s direction.

“So this is your new bodyguard,” a deep male voice said from Mitch’s right.

Mitch automatically shifted Irina in his arms, moving her away from the stranger who had walked up next to them. The man looked to be about forty, with broad shoulders and an irregular scar bisecting his left cheek that marred an otherwise coldly handsome face. His suit was expensive looking, and the watch on his left wrist appeared to be a Rolex. The tailored jacket nearly hid the weapon holstered on his right hip. He was not a street-level enforcer. Mitch smiled inwardly in satisfaction. Finally.

“Mitch takes good care of me,” Irina said suggestively, rubbing his chest with her fingertips.

The man who must be Olik looked Mitch up and down, his gaze lingering between Mitch’s legs. Then in a move so fast Mitch didn’t have time to react, he shot his hand out and gripped Mitch’s cock.

Mitch sucked in a breath as pain bored into his pelvis from the pressure.

He summoned all his willpower and said casually, “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your men, so I suggest you let go.”

Olik started to laugh but stopped abruptly when Mitch flicked his right hand and a switchblade dropped into his palm. Mitch thrust his arm forward until the point of the six-inch blade was a millimeter from Olik’s crotch. “Then again, I don’t really care if you lose face. Or…

anything else.”

With a growl, Olik released Mitch and stepped back out of knife range. “You have balls after all.”

Irina laughed and caressed Mitch’s stomach, then let her fingers drift over the swell of his cock. “He has everything he needs.”

“Come in the back.”

v

• 278 •

Justice for All

Sandy tensed when she saw the big man crowd Mitch, frustrated that she couldn’t make out what was happening. The two men who’d been standing at the far end of the bar started toward Mitch and Irina.

Three on one. She didn’t like it. Irina seemed to be taunting the guy, fondling Mitch with a self-satisfied look on her face. Sandy hoped to hell she knew what she was doing, because if she got Mitch hurt, Sandy was going to send her back to Russia personally.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Sandy said abruptly, climbing off Phil’s lap. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed a closer look.

“Oh, wait for me, honey.” Jasmine gripped her arm. “But I want to finish my drink first.”

When Sandy started to protest, she caught the look in Jasmine’s eyes and checked the bar again. The big man had backed off, and Mitch and Irina were following him down the hall. The other two men were close behind them. Reluctantly, she settled back into Phil’s lap. For now, all she could do was wait.

Phil circled her waist to steady her, but kept his hands to himself.

“You and Mitch,” he said, his voice pitched low. “You’re not really done, are you?”

“You see me with him?” Sandy shot back.

“Nope.” Phil grinned. “So does that mean you’re going to give me a chance?”

Sandy patted Phil’s chest. “I don’t know, baby. I think you might be too much guy for me.”

He laughed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. So, if you need anything.” He tilted his head slightly in the direction Mitch and Irina had disappeared. “Say the word.”

“Thanks, but we’re cool.” Sandy just hoped she wasn’t lying.

v

Olik’s office was a converted storage room, with a plain desk, two file cabinets, a couple of straight-backed chairs, and an upholstered sofa that held the impression of a decade of asses pressed into the faded cushions. One of the two guards who’d followed them down the hallway stepped inside and closed the door. The other was probably outside in the hall making sure they weren’t disturbed. Olik rested his hips against the front of the desk and gestured to the sofa.

• 279 •

RADclY fFe

“Sit down.”

Mitch preferred to stay standing because he could fight better from that position, but he didn’t want to get into anything with Irina in the room, so he let her tug him down beside her on the sofa. Spreading his legs, he leaned back and stretched one arm along the back. He slung the other around Irina’s shoulders, pulling her close against his side. She crossed her legs, causing her skirt to ride up and expose a lot of creamy thigh. When she dropped her left hand casually onto the inside of his right leg, Olik’s gaze followed her hand.

“The girls are getting out of hand. I want you to stay with them,”

he said gruffly.

“Until the police come for us like last time?” Irina scoffed. “I will stay where I am safe.”

“You will stay where you are told.”

“She stays with me,” Mitch said softly.

“This is not your affair, boy.”

“Irina is my business.”

Olik gripped the desk on either side of his hips, his smile condescending. The outline of an erection was prominent beneath the expensive material of his trousers. “Maybe you should show me what you’ve got that Irina likes so much.”

“That’s private,” Mitch said.

“Irina,” Olik said, his voice low and dangerous. He drew back the edge of his jacket, exposing the automatic on his hip. “Explain to your boy who’s in charge.”

“It’s all right, Mitch,” Irina whispered. “I know what he wants.”

Before Mitch could protest, Irina shifted until she straddled his thighs, her skirt pulled tight across the junction of her pelvis. He gripped her hips automatically.

“Irina, what—”

Then Irina’s hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth, and she was kissing him feverishly. For a second, he was too stunned to do anything but hold on to her while she rocked on his cock. He finally pulled out of the kiss and stared into her eyes. She was breathing fast and her lids drooped heavily.

“It’s all right,” she murmured again, sliding a hand down to his belt buckle. “I don’t care if he sees.”

She wasn’t acting. She wanted him to fuck her. And suddenly

• 280 •

Justice for All

Mitch wasn’t thinking about Sandy, or the job, or Olik, or what was right or what was wrong. He was thinking about Irina, a woman he cared for. He could feel her heat through his pants. He looked down and saw the ridge of his cock nestled between her thighs. Irina tugged at his belt. Oh fuck, she really was going to take him inside her, right here.

“Irina.” Mitch brushed his thumb across her full lower lip, then cradled her hips in his palms. He tensed his thighs and lifted her off his body, rising to his feet all in one motion. He stared at Olik. “I know how to treat a woman right. That’s why she prefers me.”

Olik flicked his hand at the muscle by the door. “Show this boy how we treat disobedient dogs in our country.”

The guy was twice Mitch’s size, but Mitch had fought big men before. The cadets at West Point only came in two sizes. Big and bigger.

With men like this, there was no choice but to hit hard and hit fast. He wouldn’t get a second chance. With a leering smile, the Russian threw a looping haymaker and Mitch did exactly the opposite of what the guy expected. He stepped forward to the inside of the punch, blocked the big man’s forearm with his own, and rabbit punched him with a straight hard shot to the larynx. The Russian’s eyes bulged, he grabbed his throat with both hands, and sank to his knees. With a wet gurgling moan, he collapsed onto the dirty gray carpet.

Mitch sidestepped as he toppled. “His larynx is fractured. He’ll drown on his own blood if someone doesn’t take him to the hospital.”

The man thrashed on the floor and the front of his pants turned dark as he urinated. Olik cursed in Russian and strode to the door, yanking it open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. He snapped out something else in Russian and the man in the hall rushed in, grabbed the prone man under the arms, and dragged him out. Olik kicked the door closed and spun around.

Mitch braced for the next round. Irina appeared beside him and put her arm around his waist. Olik stopped a few feet away, his face stony.

“The girls would feel safer with Mitch on security,” Irina said.

“He’s good and he’s not going to try to fuck them.”

“You’ll supervise them. Go with them on their jobs? Make sure they behave?” Olik asked.

“Da,” Irina said.

Olik regarded Mitch. “You provide security when they travel.”

• 281 •

RADclY fFe

Trying to appear nonchalant although his heart was pounding, Mitch said, “When Irina’s not working, she stays with me.”

Olik nodded.

“Okay then,” Mitch said. “When do we start?”

• 282 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER TwENTy-NINE

Mitch keyed in the security code so he could park his Ducati inside Sloan’s building. When he turned around, Sandy stepped out of the alcove at the top of the stairs and headed his way.

“What are you doing out here alone?” Mitch asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s freezing.”

“I was hoping I’d get lucky.” Sandy linked her arm through his.

“And I guess I did.” She tugged him into the shadows and kissed him.

“Everybody’s here—upstairs rehashing tonight. I wanted to see you alone first.”

Mitch rolled the bike in next to Sloan’s Harley on the other side of the Porsche and closed the overhead doors. Then he unzipped his jacket and leaned back against his bike. Sandy took off her jacket and dropped it over the handlebars. When she kissed him again she tasted a little like liquor and smelled like fresh snow. Her skin was cold and her mouth was hot. Mitch tightened his grip and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

Sandy stroked his hair. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah.” He spoke without looking up. Olik had seemed satisfied with the agreement Irina had made to supervise the girls, but Mitch had taken Irina back to the apartment and waited for an hour to be sure she wouldn’t have any unwanted company. They didn’t talk about what had happened in the back room of Ziggie’s. They’d both done what they’d had to do.

“Irina handle things?”

“She did fine.”

• 283 •

RADclY fFe

“Was there trouble?” Sandy asked.

“Some. Olik needed a little convincing that Irina and I were a package deal.” Mitch flexed his right hand and noticed for the first time that his knuckles were sore. Sandy caught the motion and grasped his wrist, drawing his hand up to the light.

“You broke some skin over your knuckles. Got any bruises anywhere else?” Sandy asked casually. She didn’t want to fuss over him because she knew he needed to believe she had total faith in him.

Her fears were hers to deal with, not to lay on him.

“He never touched me,” Mitch said without much satisfaction.

He’d thought he would feel better about taking one of these guys out, but he didn’t really. He’d realized as he watched the Russian flail on the floor, choking to death, that all he wanted was to put the guy behind bars. He didn’t need to deliver the punishment himself. “I hurt him pretty bad.”

“Did he come after you?”

“Yeah.”

Sandy framed Mitch’s face so she could look into his eyes. “Then you did what you needed to do. Don’t feel bad.”

Mitch smiled wryly. “I don’t. Not really.” He brushed his fingertips through the soft, short hair at her temple. “I saw you had a new boyfriend tonight.”

“Phil?” Sandy laughed. “He is so all talk.”

“Glad to hear that.” Mitch’s smile disappeared. “You okay about everything?”

“Don’t talk in code, rookie.” Sandy poked his chest. “You mean am I having a fit about Irina—who happens to be very hot in the flesh, by the way—having her hands all over you?”

Mitch nodded.

“If I said I didn’t mind, you’d know I was lying. But I’m not having a fit either.” She leaned into him, her thighs against his thighs, her belly tight against his crotch. “When I was still working, you never told me not to. You made love to me when you thought I was still hooking. You loved me even when you thought I was giving my body away.”

“Sandy,” Mitch whispered.

Sandy pressed her fingers to his mouth. “If you keep doing what you’re doing, and I guess you’re going to since Frye thinks you’re so good at it, you might have to do more than kiss a girl’s neck some night.

• 284 •

Justice for All

Whether I see it, or I don’t, it’s about work. I don’t need to know the details.”

“Just so you know, it won’t happen unless there’s no other way.

And…” Mitch sighed. “It won’t mean anything to me.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Sandy ran her hands down his arms, then rubbed her palms over his chest inside his jacket. “You’re pretty tight.”

Mitch shook his head. “Maybe a little. How about we check in with the lieutenant and then you can find out if I’m wearing any underwear.”

“I don’t want to be distracted in front of Frye,” Sandy whispered against Mitch’s mouth while she worked the zipper down on his fly.

Mitch stiffened as she slid her hand inside his briefs and gripped his cock. “One question answered.”

“That’s as far as you better go,” Mitch said thickly. “Because we don’t have time for the rest.”

“Five minutes?”

Mitch laughed. “You know how to straighten out my head when I’m twisted around. No one else ever has.”

Sandy licked his neck. “I know how to straighten something out.

Got a safe in your wallet?”

“You know I do. But I’m still not going to fuck you right now.” He gripped her hips and backed her off a few inches, then looked down at her hand inside his pants. “Jesus. You make me hot.”

“That’s more like it.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth, rearranged his clothes, and zipped his fly. “Now, let’s go to work.”

v

“Jesus Christ, Frye,” Clark barked as he held his hotel room door open a few inches. He wore boxers and a white T-shirt, and he needed a shave. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”

“Five twenty,” Rebecca replied. “We need to talk.”

“I’ll be in the office by nine.”

When Clark tried to close the door, Rebecca wedged her foot in the opening. “This can’t wait.”

Clark looked back into the darkened room. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the coffee bar in fifteen minutes.”

• 285 •

RADclY fFe

“Fine.” Rebecca strolled back to the elevator, pleased that she had derailed his plans for morning wake-up sex. Since she hadn’t been to bed yet, she figured that was an even trade. She ordered coffee and settled into a booth at the back of the nearly empty restaurant.

Twenty minutes later, Clark slid in opposite her. His hair was wet, his eyes bloodshot, and his rigid posture indicated he was not a happy man.

“Coffee,” he snapped before the waitress had even reached their booth. She promptly spun around and disappeared. “What?”

“I’m getting warrants for Gregor Zamora, a priest, and half a dozen members of the Russian mob. When we make the sweep, we’re going to pick up some high-profile public figures too.” Rebecca smiled when Clark’s eyes popped.

“Why am I just hearing this now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I’ll talk to the U.S. attorney. My people should make the arrests.”

Rebecca shook her head. “You can have Zamora. You’ll get him one way or the other. But the rest are mine.” She pushed the coffee cup to one side. “The district attorney’s office has already been informed.”

“This isn’t what we would call cooperation, Lieutenant.”

“Sue me.”

“What about the brother?” Clark asked.

“He’s smart—doesn’t get his hands dirty. But there’s dirt on him just the same. Squeeze Gregor—you guys are good at that. Maybe he’ll roll.”

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“It’s a lot more than you could have gotten on your own.” Rebecca stood up. “We did all the work, and you’ll get your chance to flip someone all the way at the top of the food chain. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move, and you can send your agents for Zamora. Then we’re done, Clark. All done.”

“We’ll see about that,” he called after her.

Rebecca didn’t bother to answer.

v

• 286 •

Justice for All

Catherine met Rebecca at the front door and held out her hand for Rebecca’s blazer. “You really need to wear an overcoat, darling.”

“You know,” Rebecca said, “that’s exactly what I need to hear right now.”

“Something ridiculously domestic?” Catherine hung the jacket in the closet, hooked her thumbs under the leather straps of Rebecca’s holster, and lifted it off. “That sounds hopelessly unromantic.”

Rebecca carried her weapon in one hand and circled Catherine’s waist as they started toward the bedroom. “Believe me, it isn’t. It’s exactly what I need to come home to.” She slowed just inside the bedroom. “I don’t suppose you could come back to bed for a while.”

“Only if you promise to go right to sleep.”

“I promised you once I’d never lie to you,” Rebecca murmured, drawing Catherine to the side of the bed. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it her from her trousers. “But despite my best intentions, I probably will fall asleep on you.”

“That’s all right. I like holding you while you’re sleeping.”

Catherine worked Rebecca’s belt loose from her trousers. “How did it go with the operation?”

“Mitchell’s inside and we’re close to the endgame,” Rebecca said, shedding the rest of her clothes and climbing under the covers. The bed still held Catherine’s warmth, and she felt as if she were slipping into a sanctuary. Catherine lay down beside her, and Rebecca settled into her arms with a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You’re here now.” Catherine kissed her. “Everything is all right with Mitch and Irina?”

“They made some heads-up plays tonight,” Rebecca mumbled.

“Why?”

“Irina is necessarily very dependent on him. He’s her only chance for safety, and for having her sister returned to her. He’s her lifeline.”

“Meaning she’s likely to get attached.”

“Yes.”

“Mitchell can handle it.” Rebecca laughed quietly. “Mitchell’s in for an interesting time. Sandy wants to be a cop.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Catherine said. “Do you approve?”

“Not for me to say. But, yeah. I do. She’s got guts. And street smarts. And she’ll understand what needs to be done in ways the rest of us never will.”

• 287 •

RADclY fFe

“And you’ll take care of her, won’t you,” Catherine said softly.

“You mind?”

Catherine kissed Rebecca’s forehead. “No, darling. I don’t mind.”

“We know when the Russians are delivering girls to the next private party set up by the Zamoras. Mitch and Irina will be working the inside. We’re going to hit them then.”

“All I ask is that you don’t take the door. You’re not ready for that.”

“Okay. I need to be there, but I’ll let Watts take the lead. We’ll have uniform backup for this too.” Rebecca kissed Catherine’s breast.

“Don’t worry. There’s not going to be trouble.”

“All right then.” Catherine stroked Rebecca’s face. “I still want to know when it’s happening. Now, close your eyes. For the next few hours, you’re just mine.”

• 288 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER ThIRTy

Mitch zipped his jacket and lingered by the bedroom door, watching Sandy pull on a fake fur coat that hit right in the middle of her pert, round ass, about three inches above the bottom of her skirt. Even though she was shorter than him, her legs looked like they went on forever, slender and shapely, her toned calves tightening with each step she took in her mile-high heels.

“I wish you’d wear shoes you could run in,” he grumbled.

Sandy shot him a look. “Like no one would notice if I showed up in sneakers.”

If he had his way, she wouldn’t show up anywhere at all, but the lieutenant had called the shots. Business as usual tonight. Mitch knew it made sense not to change anything that might tip off the Russians that something was up. Even when that meant Sandy would be making the rounds at the clubs.

“Be sure to call Frye if they make contact,” Mitch said for the fifth time.

“I will.” Sandy picked up a tiny purse on a shiny silver chain and slung it around her neck. She had her cell phone, a spray container of mace, lipstick, and condoms. Work supplies. “You’re the one who needs to be careful. You and Irina are gonna be right there when everything goes down. You don’t need to be thinking about me. You don’t need to be worrying about anything except keeping safe. You got it?”

“Don’t go anywhere with them unless Frye knows.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “I know the drill. If I show up in Atlantic City tonight at this party, you don’t worry about me. You just do your thing and I’ll do mine.”

• 289 •

RADclY fFe

Mitch cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb over her chin. “I love you. See you when this is over.”

Sandy kissed him. “Just remember that.”

v

Sloan, in black jeans and a black T-shirt, settled the holster onto her right hip and shoved her federal credentials into her back pocket, aware that Michael was watching everything she did. She’d been in some tight spots in Southeast Asia, particularly when she’d been a field agent on the trail of some of the major drug smugglers in the region.

She wasn’t afraid of a fight, but things were different now. She had Michael to think about.

“It’s just a precaution, and I’m not going to be anywhere near the action.” She held out her hand. “Walk me out?”

“I’d rather see you spend twenty-four hours a day in front of the computer, than this,” Michael said softly. “I don’t know how Catherine stands it.”

“There’s really nothing to worry about. I promise.” Sloan took her hand. “These are businessmen, not hardened criminals, and most of them are gonna have their pants around their ankles. They’re not going to resist.”

“What about the Russians who are with them?”

“Rebecca has the state police on standby. They’ll go in first along with Watts. Once everyone is locked down, Rebecca and I will just coordinate the transfers. We don’t trust Clark’s men not to show up, and we’re not losing our prisoners this time.”

“I suppose this is going to sound selfish, but I don’t really care if Clark makes off with a bunch of criminals or not.” Michael stopped Sloan before she could call the elevator. “I just want you coming home in one piece.”

Sloan kissed her. “It’s not selfish. And at the first sign of trouble, I’ll run.”

“Sloan. You’re such a bad liar.” Michael laughed shakily and kissed her as the elevator doors opened. “Call me, darling. As soon as you can.”

“I’ll be late,” Sloan said as the elevator doors slid closed. “Don’t worry.”

• 290 •

Justice for All

v

“You know your sister is probably going to be there tonight,”

Mitch said, standing in the bathroom doorway.

Irina squinted into the small mirror above the bathroom sink and touched up her mascara. “I hope so. You said they would bring the same group as last week.”

“The lieutenant will wait until the party is under way before making the arrests. You’ll probably have to…you know, put your sister to work.”

“Mitch,” Irina said, turning in the tiny space to face him. “We don’t think like you do. If she needs to fuck some man tonight, she will not care and neither will I. As long as later, we are free.”

“I get that,” he said. “I just…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to be upset.”

She smiled at him, her expression softening. Then in another one of those moves that always took him by surprise, she pressed close and whispered against his mouth, “This might be the last chance I get.”

Then she kissed him in a way she never had before. Not urgent, not challenging, but softly, gently. Her fingers glided through his hair, her body undulated languidly against his, her hips rocked rhythmically into his. He responded before he had time to think about it, and then when he would have pulled away, she did.

“That was to say thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Mitch stepped back from her so that their bodies no longer touched. “I think you’re pretty special.”

“But you already have a girl, don’t you, new boy,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his.

“I do.”

She nodded and slipped past him. As she reached for the leather coat he’d bought her, her cell phone rang. She answered and spoke a few words in Russian.

“Olik is on his way with the girls,” she said. “He wants to see for himself how we work.”

Mitch grinned. “You ready?”

Irina took his hand and laced her fingers through his. “Da.”

v

• 291 •

RADclY fFe

Halfway up the block, a black stretch limo slid to the curb in front of Mitch’s apartment. A burly, flat-faced man in a long black leather trench coat exited the front passenger side and walked around to the sidewalk. He pulled open the rear door, folded his arms, and stood there like a statue. A minute later, Mitch and Irina came down the steps and climbed into the limo. The man slammed the door, got back in front, and the car slid away.

“Here we go,” Rebecca said, starting the engine. She waited until the limo had turned the corner heading east before following.

“Atlantic City, here we come,” Watts muttered, slouched in the passenger seat of the unmarked.

Sloan leaned forward from the back to get a look out the windshield. “New Jersey, here we come,” she said with satisfaction.

“Taking those girls across the state line should make the federal charges nice and solid.”

“Why don’t we just drive right to the casino hotel,” Watts said,

“instead of following them around and risking them picking us up on their tail? That jerk-off Thomas already told us where this little fuckfest is going down.”

Rebecca’s gaze locked on the taillights of the limo five cars ahead of them. “Since Mitch isn’t wired and there’s no way he can call us if they change the location at the last minute. They could direct the johns to a new rendezvous spot, and we’d be sitting in front of the Boardwalk Hotel with our thumbs up our butts for the rest of the night.”

Watts grunted. “Must be why you’re the lieutenant.”

“Of course, maybe you’d like Sloan’s thumb up—”

“Hey!” Watts and Sloan objected at once.

Rebecca grinned fiercely, feeling the burn of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Everything made sense now that she could finally see the big picture. Jimmy Hogan, a narcotics detective and one of Clark’s agents, had gone undercover to get information on the Zamora organization. In the process, he’d stumbled onto the human trafficking operation at the pier being run by the Zamoras’ new Russian associates.

Needing help to investigate that, he’d arranged a rendezvous with Rebecca’s partner Jeff in the Special Crimes Unit, but Jimmy’s cover had been blown and he hadn’t known it. He and Jeff had been executed, and Rebecca knew with every cop instinct she had that one of the

• 292 •

Justice for All

Russian enforcers had pulled the trigger. Tonight, she would have justice for her dead partner.

“I still can’t believe the DA agreed to let that pervert priest walk,”

Watts said bitterly.

“We needed his cooperation and the church has a lot of power.

We had to bargain.” Rebecca had objected violently, but her arguments hadn’t done any good. She’d been instructed to personally take charge of him during the bust and sequester him away from the other prisoners.

Thinking of the phone call she’d made just before she picked up Watts and Sloan, Rebecca turned onto the Atlantic City Expressway.

“But you never know. Anything can happen.”

v

“You might want to work one of the other clubs tonight,” Sandy said when Darla plunked down next to her at the bar at the Blue Diamond.

“How come?”

Sandy tilted her head toward the two men talking to a couple of girls across the room. “Our friends are back.”

Darla followed her gaze and stiffened. “Oh man. Those nasty pricks—I was hoping I’d never see them again. You think they remember us?”

“Yeah.” Sandy kept her eyes on the hard-eyed guy who’d gotten off manhandling her in the parking lot the week before. He smirked at her and adjusted his crotch. When he started toward them, she said quickly, “You don’t want to be in on this tonight. Go out the back.

Now.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Darla didn’t bother to wait for an answer. She just hopped down from the stool and hurriedly collected her purse and jacket.

Sandy held the Russian’s gaze as he approached. She smiled at him, and she didn’t have to fake it. She was really glad he’d found her, because now she’d have the chance to see him go down. “I’m gonna be just fine.”

v

• 293 •

RADclY fFe

Mitch leaned against the wall just inside the door of the penthouse suite at the Boardwalk Hotel and Casino and watched the party get under way. A Russian security guard occupied a similar spot on the opposite side of the door, looking bored. Irina directed the girls, speaking to them in Russian and moving them about the room like players on a stage.

Placing one next to a portly sixty-year-old who immediately began to fondle her while gulping the drink Irina handed him. Instructing another to kneel between the spread legs of a thirtysomething in a business suit who unzipped his fly and tugged out his penis while sharing a joke with a man seated nearby. She’d chosen two of the youngest to sit on either side of Bishop Thomas on a wide leather couch.

Mitch recognized Thomas from the photograph Sandy had taken at the last party. He recognized Irina’s sister, too, whom Irina had just delivered like a party favor to the priest. Nothing showed on Irina’s face as she went about the business of seeing to the clients’ needs, and her sister had been equally cool, only the faintest smile showing for a second when she’d first seen Irina. Mitch wondered if Irina struggled with the same blind rage that hammered at the edges of his control, or if she had long ago accepted the reality of what she must do to survive. He thought of her and Sandy, and ached for retribution for all the injustices they had endured.

Realizing his fists were clenched at his sides, he made a conscious effort to relax and put his personal feelings aside. He didn’t know precisely when the lieutenant would greenlight the takedown, but when it happened, he needed to be completely focused.

When Irina finished distributing the girls, a few men were still without escorts, and one of them appeared to be having a heated conversation with Olik, who lounged on a stool at the wet bar on the far side of the room. The thin, agitated man stalked off and Olik pulled out his cell phone and made a call. The Russians didn’t have enough girls of their own to cover the party, and Mitch knew what that meant. When a knock sounded at the door and the guard next to him exchanged words in Russian with someone outside in the hall, Mitch steeled himself for what was coming.

The guard pulled the door open and a man walked through with three more girls. Sandy didn’t look at Mitch, and he gave her a cursory glance and then looked away. Even when Sandy and one of

• 294 •

Justice for All

her girlfriends headed straight for the thin man who sat fidgeting on the love seat across the room, Mitch just stared straight ahead. He didn’t flinch when the man said something to Sandy and pressed her hand over the bulge in his crotch. Sandy laughed and pulled her hand away before reaching for the girl beside her and deep-throating her. Mitch didn’t mind the kiss as long as the guy wasn’t touching her anymore.

Sandy had a job to do, and so did he. The best way to keep her safe was to get between her and the Russians when the fireworks started. He would preserve his cover, but if he got the chance, he’d kick that slimy bastard’s balls into his throat.

• 295 •

• 296 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER ThIRTy-ONE

Everyone should be settled in by now,” Rebecca said a few minutes after they watched Sandy climb out of a black SUV

and go into the hotel with two men and a couple of other girls. She checked Watts and Sloan. “Ready?”

“Fucking A,” Watts growled, releasing the strap on his holster before reaching for the door handle.

“Looking forward to it,” Sloan said easily.

“I’ll alert Clark to move on Zamora. Watts, radio when you rendezvous with the tactical team at the service elevators. We’ll take the lobby and clear the stairwell. Wait on the door until we get there if you can.”

“Roger, Loo.” Watts slid out of the car and hurried away with a spring in his step.

Rebecca speed dialed Clark, snapped, “We’re moving,” and disconnected.

“The Russians will be armed,” Rebecca reminded Sloan. “You stay at the rear and out of the line of fire.”

“How about I just watch your back and we don’t worry about where I’m standing.”

“Fair enough. But Jesus, keep your head down.” Rebecca grinned as she opened her car door. “I don’t need Michael after me for getting you bruised.”

Laughing, Sloan climbed out and joined Rebecca as they headed toward the front entrance. “I’m sorry Jason is missing this one.”

“We need him back at headquarters monitoring Zamora, just in case he gets wind of this and starts dumping data.” Rebecca slowed as

• 297 •

RADclY fFe

her radio crackled and Watts relayed that the strike team was in position.

“I copy. Give us thirty seconds. Then go.”

Rebecca and Sloan sprinted into the lobby, jogged around guests and bellmen, and hurtled into the stairwell.

v

Dell heard a muffled shout through the door and knocked the Russian guard next to her off balance as the door crashed open. Everyone in the room shouted at once as officers in riot gear stormed into the room. Girls cowered on the floor, men scattered while trying to zip and cover, and the Russians reached for weapons. Dell took advantage of the pandemonium and the momentary cover provided by the strike team to elbow the guard in the temple. The guy dropped like a stone.

Dell immediately checked for Sandy and saw her drag the girl with her behind the sofa. Across the room, Watts manhandled the other guard up against the wet bar and slammed his head down amidst the bottles and glasses. The lieutenant shoved the priest to the floor next to the sofa and cuffed him. The remaining johns jostled like spooked cattle, trying to get out the door past the police who were busy restraining them.

The situation seemed contained until Dell caught a glimpse of Olik yanking Irina by the arm toward the hallway that led to the rear of the penthouse. She wasn’t certain of the layout, but she thought there might be another exit.

Shouldering her way through the melee, she raced down the hall.

When she pushed through a partially open door, she found herself in another large sitting room with a wide foyer to her left and sofas and chairs grouped around an empty fireplace off to her right. In the foyer, Olik, one hand twisted in Irina’s hair, jerked open the door to the hall.

Dell couldn’t let him take her. She yanked her backup piece from her ankle holster and leveled it at Olik’s head. “Olik. Let her go!”

Seconds stretched into eternity as Olik thrust Irina in front of him and raised his automatic.

“Irina! Get down!” Dell shouted, desperately angling for a clear shot. Then Irina lunged at Olik and the air erupted in gunfire.

v

• 298 •

Justice for All

Rebecca dropped into a crouch in the doorway and scanned the sitting room. Mitchell knelt nearby, blood covering one side of her face and her gun hand wavering. Irina was sprawled in the center of the foyer, a widening patch of crimson soaking her blouse.

“Hallway,” Mitchell gasped, staggering to her feet. “I’ll cover you.”

Sloan stormed by and yelled, “See to the girl! I’m with Frye.”

Rebecca leapt for the door. “Go low.”

“Got it,” Sloan called.

They burst into the hall side by side. Rebecca pivoted against the wall and Sloan skidded to her knees on the far side, weapon extended.

Olik was twenty feet away, almost at the stairwell doors.

“Police,” Rebecca shouted. “Drop the weapon!”

Olik half turned in their direction and fired blindly while diving for the stairwell. Sloan and Rebecca opened fire.

v

“Dell!” Sandy threw herself down next to Dell. “Dell. Oh, Jesus.”

“I’m okay,” Dell said, wiping her forearm across the side of her face. “Just nicked me. God, Irina.”

Gunfire clattered in the hall outside.

“Go,” Sandy yelled, flinging herself toward Irina. “I’ll take care of her.”

Dell rushed across the room and ducked into the hall. Sandy pulled up Irina’s blouse and pressed the heel of her hand to the ragged two-inch hole below her left collarbone. Flecks of blood streaked Irina’s lips, and her breath rattled with each shallow inhalation.

Irina’s eyes fluttered open. “Mitch?”

“He’s okay,” Sandy muttered, pressing harder as the flow of blood picked up. “Don’t talk, okay? Just lie still. You’ll be okay.”

“Mika,” Irina whispered. “My sister. Someone take care…”

“Listen,” Sandy snapped, leaning over so Irina could see her face.

“Shut up. You’re making the bleeding worse. You’ll be fine. You can take care of your sister yourself. You got it?”

Irina smiled weakly. “Mitch’s girl.”

• 299 •

RADclY fFe

“You bet your ass. Now hush.” Sandy’s heart dropped when Irina’s eyes rolled back and she went very still. When she heard pounding footsteps behind her, she prayed it wasn’t one of the Russians.

“Fuck,” Watts yelled. “Fuck. Fuck.”

“Do something, will you?” Sandy screamed at him.

He already had his radio out and was shouting for EMTs. Then he disappeared into the hallway, too, leaving Sandy alone in the sudden stillness.

• 300 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER ThIRTy-TwO

Rebecca stepped over the pool of blood where Irina’s body had lain. The bitter tang of blood and cordite hung in the air and coated her throat with frustration and fury. Uniformed officers strung yellow crime scene tape over the doorways, and a police photographer and the crime scene crew, talking in hushed whispers, processed the now empty rooms.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” Rebecca said to Sloan, stopping outside the bedroom door where she had posted one of the state police.

“You need help with this?” Sloan asked.

“No, but do me a favor? Call Catherine for me. Tell her…” Rebecca grimaced. “Tell her I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“No problem.”

The other johns had already been loaded into police vans and shipped off for booking. Her duty was to deliver the priest to a waiting squad car so he could be whisked away in anonymity. She nodded to the officer on the door. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

The Most Reverend Joseph Thomas sat on the side of the bed, glaring at her, his hands cuffed behind his back. His unbuckled belt hung over his open fly, but he’d apparently had time to get his dick back in his pants. Too bad.

“Take these things off my wrists,” he demanded. “They’re very uncomfortable.”

“Sorry, I can’t do that until you’ve been transferred. Then you can complain to whoever will listen about anything that’s bothering you.”

She grabbed him by the elbow. “Let’s go.”

• 301 •

RADclY fFe

She escorted her special prisoner down the hallway to the service elevator and then through a long, deserted basement tunnel to the delivery entrance.

“I certainly hope this isn’t going to take the rest of the night,” he complained.

“Not much longer now.” Rebecca pushed the door open and, tightening her grip, pulled him out onto the loading dock.

Immediately, the harsh glare of television spotlights lasered in on them. A dozen voices shouted and as many arms thrust microphones toward the priest. When he tried to duck away, Rebecca forced him around toward the camera lenses.

“Is it true those girls were sex slaves?”

“How much did you pay them?”

“Were they all teenagers?”

“Does the church know of your involvement?”

“How long have you been using prostitutes?”

“Father…”

“Father…”

“Father…”

Satisfied, Rebecca dragged him through the crowd and pushed him into the rear seat of a waiting patrol car.

“You! You miserable bitch! You did this!” he screamed, his handsome face distorted with outrage and disbelief.

Rebecca braced her arm on top of the car and leaned in until they were eye to eye. “No, you did this. But you’re finished now.”

v

Ninety miles away, Kratos Zamora reached over his wife in bed and picked up the phone. He listened for half a minute and said, “Call me back on the other line.” Then he rose, careful not to wake her, and slipped out of the bedroom.

Once in his office, he took a Cuban cigar from the humidor on his desk, clipped the end, and lit it with a gold-plated lighter. Savoring the fragrant smoke, he waited for the call to come through on the disposable, and untraceable, cell.

“Where are they taking Gregor?” he asked. “Federal? Who do we have there?”

• 302 •

Justice for All

After he got the details he needed, he said, “I’ll be in touch.”

He disconnected and smoked in silence for a few moments. Then he called Talia Ballenger. When she didn’t answer, he hung up, removed the cable connection from his personal computer, and pressed several keys to initiate the program that would wipe the hard drive clean. After he finished his cigar, he pushed the intercom to the guard’s quarters.

“Vincent. Come around to the office, would you please.”

He got up and poured himself a drink, mapping out his strategy for damage control. He had learned long ago that the most powerful weapon was often the unexpected.

v

“Dell,” Sandy said in a low soothing voice, rubbing the back of Dell’s neck. “Baby, you gotta try to relax.”

“I fucked up,” Dell muttered for the tenth time, staring between her boots at the scuffed waiting room floor. “I should’ve known what he was going to do. I should’ve gone for Olik the second they came through the door. Man, I let him take her.”

“You didn’t let him do anything.” Sandy resisted the urge to shake her because she knew her head must be hurting. The two-inch gouge on her cheek wasn’t serious, but a bullet wound was a bullet wound, and it had to hurt. At least Sandy had been able to force her into letting one of the nurses in the emergency room clean it out and put some butterfly bandages on it. “You went after them. You stopped him from escaping with her. You know he would’ve killed her if he suspected she was involved. And you couldn’t know she was going to go for his gun.”

“After all this, what if she dies?” Dell searched Sandy’s eyes, desperately seeking reassurance. “It’s so fucking unfair.”

Sandy smiled softly, loving that Dell still believed that life ought to be fair. “Baby. That girl is tough. She’s not going to die. Besides, you and Watts got her flown here, didn’t you? That was the best thing you could have done. ’Cause you know Ali kicks ass in the OR.”

“That I do,” Ali said, walking up to join them. “Your friend lost a lot of blood and I had to remove a little bit of her left upper lobe, but she’s got plenty of lung tissue left. In fact, she’s doing so well, we’ll probably pull the breathing tube tonight.”

Dell grabbed Sandy’s hand. “She’ll be okay?”

• 303 •

RADclY fFe

“You know the drill. Anything could happen, but yes. I think she’ll be fine.”

“Can I see her?” Dell asked.

“She’s pretty out of it. And she won’t be able to talk to you.”

“That’s okay. Just for a minute?” Dell looked at Sandy. “Okay, babe?”

“Sure, rookie. You go see her.”

Sandy waited until Dell left with Ali, then she called Michael.

“Hey. Sloan get home?…No, we’re okay. We’ll be here for a little while longer.” She laughed, leaned back, and closed her eyes. “Nope. Haven’t changed my mind. I’ll need my GED to get into the academy, though.

Now that’s scary. You will? You’ll help?”

She waited a few seconds until her voice was steady. “Yeah, I get it. That’s what friends do.”

v

“Hey,” Dell said softly, taking Irina’s cool hand in hers. “I know you’re probably sleeping…”

Irina’s eyes opened and slowly focused on hers.

Dell swallowed hard. “I’ll be back tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you that Mika is okay. She’s in a safe house.”

Irina squeezed her fingers with surprising force.

“She’ll be there until you get out. I’ll check on her. So don’t worry, okay?”

Irina’s lids fluttered and she seemed to make a huge effort to keep them open. Dell saw the question in them.

“Olik is still in the operating room. He’s shot up pretty good. He might make it, but even if he does, he’ll be in prison for a long long time. He’s not going to hurt you anymore.” Dell leaned over and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep now. You’re free.”

v

Catherine watched the report of the arrests on television and then fell asleep in the living room while reading through resident admission applications. She woke at the sound of the key in the front door and set

• 304 •

Justice for All

the folders aside to make room on the sofa. When Rebecca settled next to her, Catherine took her hand and leaned over to kiss her.

“You looked good on camera.”

Rebecca laughed. “Just as long as he did.”

“Are you going to get in trouble for that? You were the one who tipped them off, weren’t you?”

“The department is happy about the positive coverage, so for the moment, nobody’s asking any questions.”

“Good. Because you did the right thing.” Catherine curled up in Rebecca’s arms and rested her head on her shoulder. “I love you.”

Rebecca rubbed her cheek against Catherine’s hair. “I love you too.”

“What about the rest of it?”

“Well, the politics still have to play out, but the Russian girls are with Immigration—they’ll be okay after all the red tape is sorted. Clark has Gregor Zamora, and you never know what the feds might get out of him. We’re still processing the Russians, but if we’re lucky, we’ll get more names. And I dragged Flanagan out of bed to run a ballistics test for me.”

Hearing the tension in Rebecca’s voice, Catherine tilted her head back to study her face. Her usual sharp profile was even more rigid than usual. “What? What did you find?”

“Olik’s gun is a match for the one that killed Jimmy and Jeff.”

Catherine caught her breath. “God, Rebecca. You got Jeff’s killer.”

Rebecca held Catherine tightly. “When I drive over to Shelley Cruz’s tomorrow and tell her I caught her husband’s killer, do you think it’s going to make her pain any less?”

“I do,” Catherine said firmly. “Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But at some point she’ll be ready to face the rest of her life, and she’ll be able to do that because she will know that justice has been done.”

“It doesn’t seem like enough sometimes.”

“It’s all that we have.” Catherine placed her hand over Rebecca’s heart. “That and what we hold in here for each other.”

Rebecca kissed her. “Then I have everything I need.”

• 305 •

• 306 •

Justice for All

EPILOgUE

One Week Later

Hey, kid.” Watts clapped Dell on the shoulder as he reached for a doughnut from the box Sloan dropped into the center of the conference table. “I hear your squeeze is gonna be packing heat before long.”

Dell stared at him. “Gimme a minute while I translate caveman-speak.”

Watts laughed. “Sandy. The academy. Cop. Gun. Jesus, there’ll be no stopping her then.”

“Oh yeah,” Dell said. “Like there ever was.”

“True,” Watts said around a mouthful of jelly. He leaned back, a happy smile on his face. “Man, it feels good to be on top once in a while.”

Across from him, Jason sniggered.

“What?” Watts demanded.

“Nothing. Nothing at all.”

Sloan cut Jason a look. “Don’t tease the infirm.”

“Aww, I never get to have any fun.” Jason placed a Boston crème on a napkin next to his computer.

“It sounds like you’ve been having plenty of fun,” Sloan said.

“Don’t you have a little something to share with us all?”

Jason turned red. “I guess Sarah called you, huh?”

“About time too,” Sloan said.

“What?” Watts looked back and forth between Sloan and Jason.

“Sarah’s pregnant,” Jason said, referring to his partner.

• 307 •

RADclY fFe

After a second of silence, Dell gave a cheer.

“Nice work,” Watts said, then frowned. “So if you’re gonna be a daddy, what does that make Jasmine?”

Jason grinned. “You better ask her.”

Watts’s laughter broke off suddenly when Rebecca appeared in the doorway of the conference room. The look on her face had him sitting up straight in his chair. “Hey, Loo.”

Rebecca walked to her customary spot at the end of the table but she didn’t sit down. “I just got a call from Clark.”

Everyone stared at her. The air in the room grew heavy and still.

“At five fifteen this morning, Gregor Zamora was shanked in the breakfast line. He’s dead.”

“Holy fuck,” Watts whispered.

“At six thirty when Ali Torveau was making rounds, she found Olik with his throat cut in his bathroom.”

Dell bolted upright. “Irina!”

“Irina and Mika are fine. I just talked to the federal marshals.

They’re en route to the safe house right now. Ali said Irina was okay to travel.”

“Talia Ballenger?” Sloan asked.

“Status unknown.” Rebecca shrugged. “The concierge at her building says she’s out of the country. Maybe he’s right. Apparently she has residences on several continents.”

“What about the other Russian prisoners?” Dell asked, settling back into her seat.

“We’ve doubled the guards on them. They probably don’t know enough to be a threat to anyone important.” Rebecca pulled out a chair and sat down.

“Kratos Zamora’s doing?” Sloan asked.

“That would be my guess, yes,” Rebecca said.

“His own brother,” Jason murmured.

“What do we do?” Dell asked.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said. “The crimes will be investigated.

Someone may even be found accountable. But as to who really gave the order? We’ll never be able to prove it.”

“What’s the point, then?” Dell demanded angrily. “Everything we did. The people we put in danger. For what? Is this justice?”

“Justice is fleeting,” Rebecca said quietly. “But we did our jobs.

• 308 •

Justice for All

That’s what counts. Irina and her sister have new identities, a chance for a new life. The other girls aren’t being abused anymore. We put a big hole in the Russian operation.”

Dell stared at the table. “We’re always one step behind because we have to play by the rules and they don’t.”

“You’re absolutely right. We play by the rules, at least all the ones that matter, because if we don’t, we’re no different than them.” Rebecca looked around the table. “Anybody want out? Because this is just the lull between innings.”

Sloan looked at Jason, who nodded sharply.

“We’re in,” Sloan said.

“Fucking A,” Watts said.

“Yes ma’am,” Dell declared.

“Good. We got close to Zamora once, and we can do it again.”

Rebecca’s eyes gleamed fiercely. “And I promise you this. When this game is over, we will be the winners.”

• 309 •

About the Author

Radclyffe is a retired surgeon and full-time award-winning author-publisher with over thirty lesbian novels and anthologies in print.

Five of her works have been Lambda Literary finalists including the Lambda Literary winners Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments edited with Stacia Seaman and Distant Shores, Silent Thunder.

She is the editor of Best Lesbian Romance 2009 and 2010 (Cleis Press), Erotic Interludes 2 through 5 and Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery with Stacia Seaman (BSB), and has selections in multiple anthologies including Best Lesbian Erotica 2006, 7, 8, and 9; After Midnight; Caught Looking: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists; First-Timers; Ultimate Undies: Erotic Stories About Lingerie and Underwear; Hide and Seek; A is for Amour; H is for Hardcore; L is for Leather; and Rubber Sex. She is the recipient of the 2003 and 2004 Alice B. Readers’ award for her body of work and is also the president of Bold Strokes Books, one of the world’s largest independent LGBT publishing companies.

Her latest release is an all-Radclyffe erotica anthology, Radical Encounters (Feb 2009), and her forthcoming 2009 romances include Secrets in the Stone and Returning Tides.

Table of Contents

PROLOgUE

ChAPTER ONE

ChAPTER TwO

ChAPTER ThREE

ChAPTER FOUR

ChAPTER FIvE

ChAPTER SIx

ChAPTER SEvEN

ChAPTER EIghT

ChAPTER NINE

ChAPTER TEN

ChAPTER ELEvEN

ChAPTER TwELvE

ChAPTER ThIRTEEN

ChAPTER FOURTEEN

ChAPTER FIFTEEN

ChAPTER SIxTEEN

ChAPTER SEvENTEEN

ChAPTER EIghTEEN

ChAPTER NINETEEN

ChAPTER TwENTy

ChAPTER TwENTy-ONE

ChAPTER TwENTy-TwO

ChAPTER TwENTy-ThREE

ChAPTER TwENTy-FOUR

ChAPTER TwENTy-FIvE

ChAPTER TwENTy-SIx

ChAPTER TwENTy-SEvEN

ChAPTER TwENTy-EIghT

ChAPTER TwENTy-NINE

ChAPTER ThIRTy

ChAPTER ThIRTy-ONE

ChAPTER ThIRTy-TwO