Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

Sloan felt slightly ill as she listened to the list of potential problems and struggled to keep her expression blank. “How long do we have to worry about something like this happening?”

“Some things could develop months from now, particularly a seizure disorder, but in all likelihood, after a week or two, we can all relax.”

“Can I work?” Michael asked. “I wouldn’t have to leave the house.”

“Michael…” At a swift look of warning from Sarah, Sloan clamped her mouth shut and swallowed the protest. All she could see, still, was Michael lying on the ground in a puddle of blood. But Michael didn’t know what had happened, and there was no reason to make her afraid now.

Ali raised an eyebrow. “I don’t expect you’ll feel like working for a week or so. But,” she added at the look of dismay on Michael’s face, “if it doesn’t involve digging ditches or moving heavy furniture, I don’t see why you can’t try it when you feel up to it.”

“Good.” Michael smiled wanly.

“I understand. Just remember, even though you’re being discharged, you’re still recovering. Don’t expect too much of yourself.”

“What about sex?” Michael kept her eyes on the surgeon’s face, but a soft sigh of resignation from Sloan’s direction was impossible to ignore. Michael merely smiled.

“You are feeling better. It’s amazing what a normal MRI will do for some people.” Ali laughed. “Usually, my position is if you feel like it, then it’s safe to do it. I wouldn’t get too vigorous the first time or so, and if you experience a headache as you approach orgasm, slow down. Maybe stop and the rest for a while.”

“Is it dangerous after this kind of…accident?” Sloan took Michael’s hand, her attention directed at the surgeon.

“Not ordinarily, no. Remember, though, there are fluctuations in blood pressure during sex and right now, Michael’s brain is a little sensitive to sudden changes.”

“Don’t worry, darling,” Michael teased softly, “I wasn’t thinking about it for tonight.”

“Darn.” Sloan grinned and hid her relief. The thought of anything harming Michael, even making love, terrified her.

Ali handed Sloan a card. “My office number. Call and make a follow-up appointment for a week.” She sketched a wave and followed Sarah to the door. “I’ll take care of the discharge orders now.”

Alone, Sloan crouched by Michael’s chair. “You sure you’re ready? Because you—”

Michael slipped her fingers into the back of Sloan’s hair and stroked her neck. “I want to go home. I want to sleep next to you tonight. I need that.”

Sloan closed her eyes. “So do I.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?”

“I’m perfect.” Michael had been home twenty minutes, and Sloan hadn’t stopped fussing for a second. She patted the sofa beside her. “Come sit here, love.”

Sloan settled carefully onto the far end of the couch, afraid that the motion would somehow hurt Michael. “Doctor Torveau said bedrest, and we’re already cheating by letting you camp out in the living room instead of in the bedroom. I want you to be able to sleep.”

“I will.” Michael shifted. “Especially if you lie down here next to me.”

Sloan hesitated.

“I’m not going to break.” Michael’s voice was soothing, her eyes tender. “Please, love. I miss you.”

That was all it took. Sloan could no more not answer that call than she could stop her heart from beating. Slowly, she eased herself down until she was on her side facing her lover, her head resting against Michael’s shoulder. “Okay?”

“Mmm.” Sighing, Michael rested her cheek against the top of Sloan’s head and stroked her face. “Now will you tell me what happened?”

Michael’s request was delivered so quietly that at first the words did not penetrate Sloan’s consciousness. “Michael, Doctor Torveau said—”

“I hate this. The way I feel—like something is missing.” Michael’s fingers trembled as she continued to caress Sloan’s face.

The anguish in her voice was more than Sloan could bear. “You were hit by a car, out in front of the house.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Michael. Baby.” Sloan’s voice was nearly pleading. “You just got home. You’re supposed to be resting. We can talk about this tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“I will. I promise.” Sloan nuzzled her face against Michael’s neck, needing to feel the heat of her skin and the rush of blood through the vessels, so vital, so alive. Her voice was hoarse as she whispered, “I love you so much.”

“I’m here. Right here.” Michael pressed against Sloan’s body, drawing solace from her nearness even as she offered Sloan the comfort of her embrace.

When Sarah walked into the living area of the loft from the guest bedroom at the far end, she discovered the two lovers asleep in one another’s arms. The ringing of the phone shattered the silence, and she grabbed it, hoping they would not awaken. “Sloan and Lassiter residence.”

Silence. “Hello?”

“Sarah?”

“Jasmine?” Puzzled, Sarah mentally flipped through the calendar in her mind. “Where are you?”

“Downstairs.”

“Why? You don’t have a show tonight, do you?” Sarah glanced over at the couch where Sloan had shifted to a sitting position, leaning with elbows on knees, her head in her hands. “Sloan’s awake now…What? When?…What kind of meeting? With the police?…You’d better come up.”

Sloan crossed to the huge double metal doors, entered the cod eon the keypad, and the doors slid soundlessly open. Just beyond, a woman stood waiting.

Although older than Sandy, she bore her a resemblance in some ways. Her layered hair was dark where Sandy’s was blond and slightly longer, but she was lithe and sensuous like Sandy. Her skin tight black pants, body-hugging lycra top, and scarlet silk blouse left open and tied casually at her narrow waist exuded an aura of confident sensuality. Her make-up was understated but artfully applied, subtly accentuating the sweep of arched cheekbones and the curve of her full lips. She might have been a high-priced call girl or a runway model.

“Hello, sexy.” Jasmine kissed Sloan on the mouth. “You look like road kill.”

“Thanks.” Hastily, Sloan cautioned, “Michael’s asleep.”

Jasmine stepped around her and kissed Sarah’s cheek almost shyly. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Sarah replied, her tone subdued. Briefly, she touched Jasmine’s hand. “New slacks?”

“Mmm. This afternoon.”

“Nice.” Sarah gestured with her head. “Let’s go into the bedroom, and you can tell where you intend to wear them.” She gave Sloan a hard look. “And just what you two are getting yourselves into.”

Rebecca and Watts stepped into the elevator when a voice from behind called, “Hey, hold that, will you?”

Rebecca braced the door with a hand and turned. Sandy hurried toward the elevator.

“Hi, Sandy.”

Sandy grunted a greeting and pointedly ignored Watts. When the elevator stopped, Rebecca led the way down the hall to the conference room.

“Hey,” Sloan said as the group filed in.

“Sloan,” Rebecca acknowledged, studying the dark-haired woman by Sloan’s side. She was certain they hadn’t met, but the stranger seemed familiar nonetheless.

“Yo,” Watts said, eyeing the woman, too. Sandy sat beside him, pointedly not looking at Mitchell, who took the seat across from her.

“Jasmine, this is Sergeant Frye, Detective Watts, and Sandy.” As they all nodded, Sloan continued, “Jasmine works at the Troc, and she knows some of the regulars at Ziggies.”

“Uh…doin’ what, exactly?” Watts asked, his gaze dropping from Jasmine’s face to her breasts and lingering a moment.