Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

Catherine didn’t want to think about someone lying in wait, ready and willing to kill her lover. But she knew that for Rebecca, talking it out, working it out, was the best way to heal. “You couldn’t have known.”

“I went down, and he kept coming.” Speaking slowly, still vague, still in pain, Rebecca moved her eyes back to Catherine’s. “I was afraid he would kill me and you would be the one left hurting.”

Catherine caught her lower lip between her teeth, but it was too late to stop the tears. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“Catherine—love. I’m so sorry.”

“I couldn’t bear to lose you.” Catherine brushed away tears.

“I don’t want that to happen. I don’t want you hurt—ever.”

Rebecca squinted against the sudden rush of pain. “Christ, my head is exploding.”

“You have a concussion. A substantial one.” As she spoke, Catherine scanned the monitors rapidly. Everything seemed stable, and she looked back to her lover. “Your head is going to hurt for a while.

Your memory might be a little fuzzy.”

“I got hit. I remember that now.” Rebecca brought a hand to her chest and pressed lightly, then winced. “Couple of places, it feels like.”

“Yes.” Catherine closed her eyes against the images that came unbidden. Of Rebecca lying on the warehouse ß oor, a river of blood pouring from her chest. Rebecca lying pale and motionless in the intensive care unit. Closed her mind to the nightmare of losing her…the empty bed, the silent house, the barren life. She attempted a smile. “Ali says you’ll be out of here in a few days.”

“Good.”

Rebecca closed her eyes for so long that Catherine thought she

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was asleep. However, when she tried to withdraw her hand, Rebecca’s grip on her Þ ngers tightened.

With her eyes still closed, Rebecca said, “I’d quit if I could, so that you would never have to go through this again. But I can’t.”

“I know.” Catherine leaned down, kissed Rebecca’s lips. “It’s enough that you would if you could.”

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CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Tuesday

I killed a man last night.”

Sloan said the words so quietly that it took a few seconds for them to register. When Michael understood the signiÞ cance of what her lover had just said, she tightened her hold on the woman in her arms.

Sloan lay with her head on Michael’s shoulder, one arm loosely around her waist. Michael rested her cheek against the top of Sloan’s head and slowly caressed her back.

“Is that what the detectives were talking to you about for so long at the hospital?”

“Yeah, they were taking my statement.” Sloan spoke with her eyes closed, savoring the warmth and scent of Michael’s skin. “Took my weapon too. Until the investigation is completed.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“I don’t think so. I shot the guy that shot Rebecca. No one is going to look too hard at the circumstances.”

Michael searched beneath the cool, even tone for what Sloan might not be saying. “This man…is he the one?”

Sloan was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know. He could be.”

She shrugged. “I think there’s a fair chance we’ll never know.”

“And if we don’t? Can you live with that? Can you let it go?”

“Yes.” Sloan tilted her head back and opened her eyes. She smiled softly at Michael. “The only thing that matters to me is that you’re all right and that we’re together.”

Michael smiled and kissed Sloan softly. When she drew away, her expression became serious. “Have you ever shot anyone before?”

“No.”

“Are you all right with it?”

“He was going to kill Rebecca. Then he was going to come after the rest of us.” Sloan’s eyes never wavered; her voice remained steady

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and calm. “I didn’t enjoy it, but I’d do it again. If it was the guy that hurt you, I’m glad. Either way, I’m not sorry he’s dead.”

Michael nodded. “I think I’d rather you do your investigating with the computer from now on.”

Sloan grinned. “I think I agree with you.”

v

“Hey,” Watts said. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.”

Carla Reiser smiled up from her desk. “Fat chance. I’ve got about seven hundred more forms to Þ ll out.”

“That all?” Watts ambled in and sagged into one corner of the sofa. “The feds gone?”

“From your mouth to God’s ears,” Carla said fervently.

Watts chuckled. “I guess you liked spending the night with Clark about as much as I would have.”

“OfÞ cious, condescending men are not my favorite types.”

“If I was half as slick as most of the women I work with, I’d say something smart to that.” Watts shrugged. “I can’t think of anything.”

Carla smiled. “I don’t require that you be real smooth.”

“Good thing.” Watts felt around in his jacket pockets for his cigarettes, then gave up. “How did it go?”

“Like clockwork. One thing I’ll say for the federal boys, they’ve got plenty of manpower and neat toys. Once Sloan gave us the names, we had audio and video surveillance up and running on the suspects here and at their homes within hours.” Carla stood and walked to the counter where a full pot of coffee steamed. As she poured a cup, she said, “As soon as we got the green light from Lieutenant Frye, we took everyone at once. Only one of the suspects was on shift here last night, and we just walked him out to a car and put him in it. No muss, no fuss.

Clark had secondary teams who picked up the other guys at home.”

“Is Clark doing the interrogations?”

“That’s my understanding.” Carla lifted the pot and an inquiring eyebrow in his direction. At his nod, she Þ lled another cup and handed it to him as she sat beside him on the sofa. “Clark made it crystal clear that the smuggling operation was his jurisdiction and we weren’t getting any piece of the arrests.”

“Any way you look at it, though,” Watts said as he sipped gratefully

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at the coffee, “the organized crime organization in this city just took a big hit. Personally, I don’t think Clark is going to get anyone to ß ip on Zamora, but the feds will bag a nice number of midlevel guys. Enough to make the papers.”

“That’s Þ ne with me,” Carla said. “As long as my docks are clean again, I don’t care who gets the glory.”

Watts nodded appreciatively. “I’m with you.”

“Yes, I noticed. It’s kind of nice.”

Watts blushed and tried desperately to think of a comeback. He still couldn’t.

v

Sandy curled on one side beneath the covers and watched Mitchell pace, a cell phone to her ear.

“Look, all I want to know is what’s going to happen to them.”

Mitchell blew out a frustrated breath. “Okay, Þ ne. Your best guess, then.” She paced a few more steps. “Thanks. Yeah. I’ll check again later.” She ß ipped the phone closed, tossed it on a chair, and stripped.

Naked, she slid into bed beside Sandy.

“Roll over on your stomach,” Sandy said.

“Huh?”

“You’re totally wired, Dell. Roll over.”

Mitchell ß ipped onto her stomach and cradled her head in her folded arms. A second later, Sandy settled astride her butt. Her heart and a few other places lurched at the sensation of heat and wet against her skin. She groaned softly.

Sandy pressed the heels of both hands into the center of Mitchell’s back and kneaded the tight muscles. “So what did they say?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mitchell mumbled, her eyes closed.

“Don’t be a jerk. What’s going to happen to them?” Sandy shifted lower on Mitchell’s rear to get her thumbs into the small dip at the base of Mitchell’s spine. She dug them in, circled and stroked, and Mitchell moaned again.