Неизвестный - 6. Justice For All

Sloan held out a glass to the bartender for a refill. “And money buys votes.”

“You don’t need that drink,” Rebecca said. “But you need to tell me what lit your fuse.”

Sloan narrowed her eyes, challenging Rebecca. Rebecca was the team leader, but she wasn’t technically Sloan’s boss. Sloan still hadn’t decided whether to tell her about the surprise slide show. She trusted Rebecca, but she didn’t trust anyone else and she didn’t have any idea where the images were coming from. All she knew was that Zamora had gotten close to Michael. And someone was playing with her. She needed to know what they wanted, and why they were willing

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to use Michael to send a message. Until she knew, she wasn’t telling anyone who might further endanger Michael, willingly or unwillingly.

Including Rebecca. She cared about the investigation, she cared about justice. But she cared about Michael more.

Rebecca held her gaze, her blue eyes cool and steady. Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the seconds ticked by.

Sloan took a shuddering breath and carefully placed her untouched drink on the bar behind her. She needed to convince Rebecca nothing was going on.

“Sorry. He’s sitting next to Michael. It’s driving me crazy.”

“She’s safe here.”

“I want to send her out of town.”

“I don’t blame you. Maybe Catherine will go with her.”

Sloan laughed shakily. “Yeah, right.”

“There’s no reason to think she’s in danger. He’s an influential businessman. She’s the head of a multimillion-dollar corporation. They swim in the same waters. It makes sense that he’s friendly.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said dryly. “Friendly.”

With a hand on Sloan’s back, Rebecca steered her away from the bar and the occasional attendee who came for a refill. She didn’t want to spend too much more time talking to her, not with Zamora’s men watching, and Sloan seemed calmer now. “We’ll compare notes tomorrow as to who else he’s friendly with. I’ve got Watts on camera duty.”

Sloan rubbed her eyes. “Look. Sorry. I’m okay. I hate these goddamned things anyhow.”

“Me too. But we can tell Clark and the captain we’ve done our duty.” Rebecca squeezed Sloan’s shoulder. “And we’ve got a good look at his muscle. That might come in handy.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said, planning to search the security tapes at Michael’s office building for those same faces. “It might.”

v

Talia waited until the tall, sharp-eyed blonde moved away from Sloan. That would be the detective Kratos had told her about. Frye. A very capable-looking woman. Very intense. Very focused. Very cool.

Talia preferred her women hotter, although she knew the ones who

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seemed cool on the surface very often boiled over if you knew how to stoke their fires. She wondered what it would take to fire up the detective. She didn’t have to wonder about Sloan. It was written all over her face every time she looked at the woman next to Kratos. The woman Kratos had met for an impromptu business discussion the day before.

Talia picked up a glass of Burgundy from a passing waiter and gravitated toward Sloan. “I hate these things, don’t you?”

Sloan glanced at her and smiled politely. “I don’t think we’re supposed to admit that.”

“I’ll keep it a secret if you will.” Talia sipped her wine. It was better than average for affairs of this type. And Sloan was far more attractive in person than in her photos. Her body appeared to be solid muscle, and her eyes were the most startling shade of indigo-violet. With her dark hair and square jaw she exuded raw sexuality. Talia registered a spike of pleasure and struggled against the urge to touch her, but she let her interest show in her voice. “I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”

“That’s a rare skill.” Sloan watched the stage as Zamora moved to the lectern. She stiffened as his left hand drifted over Michael’s shoulder in passing.

“He’s quite charismatic, isn’t he?” Talia observed, leaning lightly against Sloan’s arm. She wanted to set her off. Women like her could be thrillingly unpredictable when ignited.

“Not my type,” Sloan said through gritted teeth.

“No,” Talia said with a laugh. Her breast brushed Sloan’s arm and her nipple tightened so quickly she almost gasped. “I don’t imagine he is.”

“Friend of yours?” Sloan asked.

“Not precisely.” Talia smiled as the woman onstage looked over at Sloan, then took Talia in with a curious expression. Curiosity. Not jealousy. That was interesting. “But she’s a friend of yours.”

Sloan finally focused on Talia, her expression moving from distant politeness to intense scrutiny. “More than a friend. But you knew that, didn’t you?”

Talia sipped her wine to hide her smile. Oh, this woman was very good. Very very good and very very exciting. She would have to be careful. “I made a calculated deduction. You’ve been watching her all night.”

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“Does that mean you’ve been watching me all night?”

“Oh my. Am I that obvious?”

“No. Not at all.”

Talia looked toward the stage, breaking eye contact. She wasn’t usually concerned with what others could read in her expression, but she feared Sloan might see more than she intended. She was painfully aroused and she did not want Sloan to realize she had an advantage.

“He seems quite taken with her,” Talia said, then continued as if she didn’t hear the sharp breath Sloan sucked in. “But then, that’s understandable. She’s quite beautiful.”

“You can give him a message for me,” Sloan said. “Tell him it would be dangerous for him to even think about her, let alone touch her again.”

“If I knew him that well, I would surely give him your message.”

Talia slid her fingers around Sloan’s forearm. “But I do know him well enough to know that he always gets what he wants.”

“Not this time.”

Her fingers shifted to Sloan’s hip, and down. She slipped her card deep into the left front pocket of Sloan’s tuxedo pants, her fingers gliding inward, stopping just short of the point of flagrant groping. “If he gets to be a nuisance, call me. Maybe I can help.” When she withdrew her hand, she let her fingers drift upward over Sloan’s abdomen. “Of course, you can call me anytime.”

“I didn’t get your name,” Sloan said.

Talia reluctantly stepped back, finished her wine, and set her glass aside. “It’s Talia. You have my number. I’ll look forward to your call.”

v

“Is she all right?” Catherine slipped her arm through Rebecca’s and tilted her head toward Sloan.

“I don’t know.” Rebecca frowned, studying Sloan from across the room. The crowd was breaking up, a few people lingering in small clusters, trying for one last connection, one last vote, one last dollar.

Sloan was headed straight through the throng for Michael. “She’s strung pretty tight. I thought she was just worried about Michael’s health.”

“But now you’re not sure?”

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Rebecca shook her head. “I can’t read her, which means she doesn’t want me to.” She clasped Catherine’s hand. “What do you think?”

“I think everyone is under a great deal of pressure. I saw Sloan at the hospital when Michael was injured. She was very badly shaken.

She’s understandably frightened and trying not to be.” Catherine sighed.

“She’s not all that different than you. She doesn’t know she doesn’t have to be strong all the time.”

“Every cop is like that. And she’s a cop, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.”