Неизвестный: 4. Justice In The Shadows

Rebecca drew a sharp breath, and her pulse rate jumped. Ziggies was a sex club at 11th and Arch that featured nude dancers, and it was mob connected. A guy reputed to be one of Zamora’s front men owned it. Finally, a connection. “Did you ever dance there?”

“Who me?” Sandy snorted. “Not hardly. You need tits out to Arizona to shag in there. And you have to blow every bartender in the place.” She hesitated, unused to sharing information with the police, even Frye. But that afternoon, the detective had shown up at her apartment unexpectedly and made her an offer with a formal price tag attached. More information, more help, for more money. “But I know someone who did work there.”

“Can you put me with her?”

“I’ll see if I can find her.” Sandy pointed to a bar up the block. “You can let me out there.”

“Uh-uh. I’m taking you home.”

“It’s not even midnight!”

“When I stopped by earlier and you agreed to go official with me, you turned in your streetwalking creds.”

“I’m not gonna trick.” Sandy sounded affronted. “But I need to be out and seen, otherwise people will get suspicious. And suspicious people don’t talk. You know that.”

Rebecca had the inexplicable desire to tell her no, but she knew Sandy had to maintain her street contacts or she’d be useless as an informant. Rebecca pulled to the curb and extracted five twenties, almost all that she had, from her wallet. “Here. Your first paycheck.”

Sandy looked at the bills and smiled wryly. “Five hand jobs. Won’t pay the rent.”

“I’ll see that there’s more. And your hands are clean.”

“Yeah. Ain’t that a thrill.”

“One more thing.”

“Frye, you’re hurting me sitting out here.”

Rebecca had already checked and knew that no one was watching them. “A police officer can be suspended, even fired, for fraternizing with a prostitute.”

Dell. Sandy grew still. “Fraternizing—you mean, even if they’re just…like friends?”

“Sometimes ‘friends’ looks like something else.” Rebecca’s voice was soft, almost gentle. “Hard to prove otherwise.”

“I don’t have any cop friends.” Sandy pushed open the door, turned her back, and headed for the bar.

Rebecca watched the thin young blond walk away, knowing that she was putting the girl in danger by employing her as an informant. But the streets would be no kinder to Sandy if she was forced to stay alive by selling her body. At least this way, she might have a chance. A devil’s bargain, perhaps, but one Rebecca would have to live with.

CHAPTER SIX

Sloan walked quickly through the silent hospital halls, the events and conversations of the last few hours almost forgotten. When she reached the door of Michael’s room in the ICU and looked in, she saw only the empty bed with the pristine white sheets neatly made. Her stomach turned over, and her head grew light. Michael!

“I’m so sorry,” a nurse said as she quickly approached.

Sloan closed her eyes, the roaring in her head making it difficult to make out the words. oh god, oh god…what am I going to do?

“I tried to call you—”

Numbly, Sloan stared at the small, dark-haired woman with the kind eyes.

“…upstairs a half-hour of ago.”

“What?” Sloan couldn’t seem to catch hold of the words that were floating past her. “What did you say?”

“We needed the bed, and she’s doing so much better she was transferred to a regular room. Room 519.”

“Thank you.” Sloan’s voice, hoarse with fatigue, cracked.

Sloan couldn’t tolerate the wait for the elevator, but shouldered through the fire door and into the stairwell, taking the stairs from the second floor to the fifth at a run. In Michael’s room, the lights had been turned down low. From the darkness came a soft sound, the answer to her prayers.

“Sloan?”

“Hey,” Sloan whispered as she approached the bed, her vision blurred with tears. She grasped the hand that Michael lifted, clinging to the warmth. Then she leaned over and brushed her lips across Michael’s forehead. “How do you feel?”

“Weak. I’m a little confused. I can’t remember what happened.” Michael’s eyes traveled over Sloan’s face. “There was an accident, right?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No, baby,” Sloan said, her voice choked. “I’m not hurt. You don’t have to worry about anything. You just need to work on getting well.”

“You looked tired.” Michael’s eyelids drooped and she forced them open. Smiling tremulously, she said, “In fact, you look terrible. Go home.”

Sloan laughed gently and pulled a chair close with one hand. “Just close your eyes and get some sleep.”

“Yes,” Michael murmured. Then she twitched suddenly and her eyes flew open. “It was a car, wasn’t it? A car hit me.”

There edge of fear in Michael’s voice brought a rush of fury like none Sloan had ever known. “You rest now, baby. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

She stroked Michael’s cheek as she slipped into sleep. Tonight she would stay, but in the morning, she would seek retribution.

It was just after midnight when Rebecca let herself into the garden apartment in West Philadelphia. She found Catherine in the bedroom, propped up in bed, nude, with a book. “You’re still awake.”

“Hi.” Catherine placed the book face down on the covers by her side. “You’re early.”

“Am I?” Rebecca raised an eyebrow as she stripped off her jacket followed by her shoulder holster. She walked to the far side of the bed and placed her weapon in the top drawer of the bedside table, then leaned across the bed and kissed Catherine. “I’m going to take a quick shower. I’ll just be a sec.”

“Hurry back.”

The slight hint of invitation in Catherine’s voice was enough to make Rebecca’s blood surge. Within minutes she walked back into the bedroom, naked, toweling off as she approached the bed. She stopped abruptly when she observed the intense expression on Catherine’s face and lowered the towel. “I get excited just watching you look at me.”

Catherine pushed the sheet aside, and rose to her knees, moving closer to the edge of the bed and threading her arms around Rebecca’s waist. She drew one small tight nipple into her mouth, reveling at the swift gasp from her lover.

Closing her eyes, Rebecca rested her palms on Catherine’s shoulder for balance. “Please…do it harder.”

Moaning with satisfaction, Catherine sucked harder, drawing the tight rosette back and forth between her teeth. When Rebecca uttered a small cry, an answering rush of arousal flooded her thighs. Gasping, Catherine pulled Rebecca down beside her on the bed. Drawing her hand up the inside of Rebecca’s quivering thigh, Catherine found her wet and open and moved inside her. “I need things from you.”

“What…do you need?” Rebecca arched off the bed. With her right hand she grasped Catherine’s wrist, forcing her hand deeper still.

“I need…” Catherine leaned over Rebecca’s body as she pressed even further. “…this passion, this life…”

Rebecca’s words were strangled. “Take it.”

“Yes.” Catherine stroked to the rhythm of Rebecca’s heartbeat pulsating around her fingers. “Oh, yes.”

With tremendous effort, Rebecca turned her head and focused on Catherine’s face. “Take me.”

With a cry of her own, Catherine brushed her thumb rhythmically across Rebecca’s clitoris and catapulted her into orgasm.

“God God, yes yes…” Rebecca moaned, writhing beneath the onslaught of release. Breathless, panting, she finally tugged weakly at Catherine’s wrist, stilling her motion. “I’m done…I can’t…no more.”