Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

“Honey,” Mitchell said, “you have to trust me on this one. It’s not safe ou—”

“You have to trust me.” Sandy scooped up a pile of panties and

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dumped them into her suitcase. She closed the hasp and straightened.

“I have a meeting tonight. It’s important. I’m going.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Sandy barked. “Jesus, Dell. I might as well put a big sign on my head that says police informer. Get a grip.”

“I can’t,” Mitchell whispered. “I’ll go crazy if something happens to you.”

Sandy’s features softened and she strode quickly to Mitchell, driving her Þ ngers into Mitchell’s hair, tilting her head back before kissing her soundly on the mouth. “Nothing’s going to happen. It’s just another night—business as usual.” She stroked Mitchell’s cheek.

“Except I’m not doing any business anymore. And that’s because of you.”

Mitchell frowned, then her eyes darkened with understanding.

“Nothing?”

Sandy shook her head.

“For how long?”

Sandy lifted a shoulder.

“Honey?”

“A while.” Sandy didn’t protest when Mitchell pulled her down into her lap. Rather, she threaded her arms around Mitchell’s neck and rested her head against the curve of Mitchell’s shoulder. “I got so I didn’t want anyone near me except you.”

“Oh man,” Mitchell moaned, burying her face in Sandy’s hair, her hand sliding under Sandy’s top. “I gotta have you all the time.”

“You already do,” Sandy said with a shaky laugh.

Mitchell shook her head, the Þ ngers of one hand splayed beneath the soft curve of Sandy’s breast. “I don’t mean that way. Well, I do, but I mean the other way too.”

Sandy leaned back to look into Mitchell’s face. “What are you talking about, rookie? You’re sounding a little crazy.”

“I am crazy. Totally.” Mitchell’s thumb brushed Sandy’s nipple, and she smiled at the instant response. “I want to be with you all the time. I want us to live together.”

Caught off guard, Sandy laughed harshly. “There’s no fucking way I’m living in that fancy place you’ve got. I probably wouldn’t even pass the security check.”

“Fuck their security checks,” Mitchell spat. “If that’s where we

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wanted to live, that’s where we’d live. But I don’t want to live there either.”

“You don’t?” Sandy couldn’t hide her curiosity. “Where then?”

“I was thinking maybe we can get a place around here somewhere or Queen Village. There’s a lot going on down here—you know, with Jasmine and the Kings performing and everything.” She traced a Þ ngertip over Sandy’s lips. “We can look for a place as soon as this case wraps up.”

“I didn’t say yes.” Sandy licked the end of Mitchell’s Þ nger with the tip of her tongue, then nipped at it with her teeth.

“Yeah, I know.” Mitchell eased her Þ nger between Sandy’s lips and into her mouth, closing her eyes partway as Sandy sucked on it.

“But you will.”

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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Saturday

The sensation began in the pit of her stomach—an ever-increasing pressure like the tight coiling of the spring mechanism in an old-fashioned clock. The muscles on the insides of her thighs quivered, her calves contracted, and her heels dug into the mattress as her hips lifted. She had stopped breathing, the moan dying in her throat. Searching desperately behind her with one arm, she found the smooth, curved edge of the headboard and clamped her Þ ngers around it. She cupped the back of Rebecca’s head in her palm and thrust her clitoris hard against Rebecca’s mouth. In her mind, she was screaming, but only the barest groan escaped. Flames licked her skin and she ß ushed hot; an agony of raw nerves and raging blood beat between her thighs; hot lightning scorched the length of her spine. She summoned all her strength but managed only a whisper.

“I’m coming.”

For a few seconds, minutes, hours, eternity, there was no thought, no awareness beyond the torrent of pleasure ß ooding the plains of her body, rolling through the Þ elds of her mind, laying waste to reason, replenishing her spirit like a deluge in the desert. And then, mercifully, peace followed the cataclysm, and the tension left her body. Catherine drew in her Þ rst full breath in what felt like eons and expelled it on a long sigh.

“Oh my God. My ears are still ringing.”

Rebecca grunted and rolled away, fumbling with one hand on the nightstand. She was still struggling to recover from her own orgasm, induced by a few swift tugs on her tumescent ß esh when she felt Catherine approaching climax. “Fucking phone.”

“Oh no,” Catherine protested, running her hand down the center of Rebecca’s bare back.

“Yeah. Frye.”

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Catherine knew the instant her lover slipped away and the detective took her place. Rebecca swung her legs to the side of the bed and sat up in one ß uid motion. The muscles beneath Catherine’s Þ ngers tightened, as if preparing to surge into motion. The very air around Rebecca’s body crackled with tension.

“What was she wearing?”

Rebecca’s tone was sharp. Catherine did not need to see her face to envision the Þ erce focus in her ice blue eyes.

“No! Stay there. I’ll get back to you as soon as I make a few calls.”

Rebecca swore under her breath.

“All right. I’ll pick you up in Þ fteen minutes.”

As Rebecca closed the phone and stood, Catherine checked the clock. A little before six a.m. “What is it?”

“Sandy’s missing.”

v

Rebecca drove with one hand on the wheel, the other on her cell phone. Beside her, Mitchell sat rigid, her back so stiff it did not touch the seat. Her feet were planted ß at on the ß oor, palms pressed to her thighs. Her splayed Þ ngers were white.

“What exactly did she say when she left?” Rebecca asked.

“She’d set up a phone meet with Trudy. It was the Þ rst time they’d connected since the bust.” Mitchell’s voice was gravelly, her throat desert dry. She stared through the windshield at the familiar neighborhoods, registering nothing. There was an odd numbness in her chest and belly, as if she’d been gutted. There was no pain, only a vast emptiness, dark and endless. “She didn’t say where.”

“What’s your best guess?”

In the silence that followed, Rebecca pushed her own sick fears deep down inside. She’d put Sandy out there. Never mind that Sandy knew the risks. In the end, she alone was responsible for anything that happened to her. Sandy—sharp-tongued, quick-witted, tough, vulnerable Sandy. She probably weighed all of a hundred pounds. Jesus Christ.

“Mitchell?”

“I don’t know.”

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Rebecca slammed on the brakes, downshifted hard, and swerved to the curb. In the same motion, she turned in the seat and grabbed Mitchell’s shoulder, forcing the younger woman to look at her. “She’s out there, and we’re going to Þ nd her. That’s what we do. If anyone’s hurt her, we’ll take care of it. Now get your fucking head together, because I need you. And so does she.”

Mitchell blinked. The Þ ngers digging into her shoulder created small circles of pain, a welcome reminder that she was still capable of feeling. The sharp edges of Rebecca’s words cut through the mist of desolation that clouded her mind. She was not helpless. Sandy was not gone.

“The…diner, maybe.”

“No, too busy. Too many pimps who might see them.” Rebecca inched closer, easing her viselike grip. “Come on, Mitchell. She’s your girl. You know her. Someplace she trusts. Somewhere safe.”