Неизвестный - 6. Justice For All

“Yeah?” Sandy smiled in satisfaction. “That’s nice.”

Dell groaned and ran the flat of her hand down her stomach, brushing lightly through the crisp hair at the apex of her thighs. “It would be except you’re in no shape to take care of it.”

“So?” Sandy patted the bed next to her. “You’ve got a hand. Get your butt down here and kiss me while you do the job.”

“You sure?” Dell was already having trouble catching her breath.

“Move, rookie.” Sandy eased back on the pillows and turned onto her good side. When Dell stretched out beside her, she skimmed her fingers over Dell’s chest, lightly brushing her nipples. “Come here, baby.”

Dell almost forgot about the pressure in her clit because Sandy’s

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tongue teasing inside her mouth, playing over her lips, sucking and nibbling, felt so good she got lost in the kissing. When Sandy scratched her nails down the center of Dell’s belly, her clit jerked and she remembered it in a big way. Dell groaned and cupped her crotch in the palm of her hand.

“Need to come, baby?” Sandy whispered, flicking the tip of her tongue rapidly over Dell’s.

“Yeah,” Dell gasped roughly. “You get me so hot.”

“Let me watch you jerk off.” Sandy covered Dell’s hand and pushed her fingers down on her clit. “Keep your eyes open while you do it.”

Sandy started kissing her again and Dell didn’t have to think about the rest of it. She just stroked and squeezed, drifting in the blue of Sandy’s eyes until the tension deep in her belly started to uncoil and lick at the edges of her consciousness like flames flaring from embers.

“I’m gonna come, babe,” Dell murmured against Sandy’s mouth.

“You feel so good.”

“I love you, Dell,” Sandy said, sweeping her hand down Dell’s back to massage her ass. “Oh yeah. That’s it, baby.”

Dell whimpered, clenching her ass as she pumped into Sandy’s hand, coming in long, hard pulses while Sandy kissed her. Finally she closed her eyes and let her head fall onto Sandy’s breast. “You kill me.”

“Good.” Sandy slapped her butt. “Don’t fall asleep, rookie. I want my shower.”

“Man, I can’t move.” Dell flopped over onto her back, grinning.

“It never feels that good when I do it by myself.”

Sandy rolled her eyes. “You’re such a dog. Get up.”

Dell had a better idea. “I could, you know, make you come really easy so you wouldn’t move too much.”

“Oh yeah? Since when.” Sandy eased her legs to the floor and grabbed Dell’s arm to steady herself as she stood. “I’m horny, but I’d rather wait until I don’t have to worry about breaking anything when I come.” She looped her arm around Dell’s waist. “Tomorrow, maybe.”

“Okay, babe.” Dell led her into the adjoining bathroom. “Sit down while I get the shower ready.” When the water felt warm enough, she helped Sandy up and joined her in the shower. “Stand still. I’ll do everything.”

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“Deal.”

Dell squirted shampoo into her palm and lathered Sandy’s hair.

“Did everything go okay today?” Sandy asked.

“Yeah. Irina told us that you got a shot of her sister at that deal the other night.” Dell cupped Sandy’s chin and looked into her eyes. “You did a really good job, San.”

“About that,” Sandy said quietly.

“Look, I know you want to help. I get that. But—”

“I talked to Frye today, Dell.”

Dell tensed. “Yeah?”

Sandy punched her shoulder. “Don’t get all bristly right away.”

“You told her you want to go back out again.”

“Well, yeah,” Sandy said as if Dell were being dumb. “But I talked to her about something else too.”

Dell frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna go to work for Michael.” Sandy cradled Dell’s face and kissed her. “I’m going to be a cop.”

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ChAPTER TwENTy-SIx

Sloan pulled her Harley Super Glide into an empty parking space across from Talia Ballenger’s address on the Benjamin Franklin Parkway. She swung her leg over the big machine, clipped her helmet onto the back, and slid her hands into the pockets of her black motorcycle jacket while she sauntered across the street. Casually dodging the cars as she cut across six lanes of traffic streaming along either side of the Parkway, she checked out the building, recognizing it as one of the most exclusive in the city, gated and guarded, with a waiting list that was more for form than function. No one got one of the luxurious apartments unless someone died and willed it to them, or they knew some very important people in very high places.

A security guard behind the desk in the lobby was dressed in an elaborate uniform that was supposed to make him look like a doorman. It didn’t. He regarded her as if she were lost. “May I help you, madam?”

Sloan smiled. “I’m here to see Ms. Ballenger. The penthouse, right?”

“Are you expected?” he said with just a little more warmth.

Sloan tilted her head from side to side. “Expected. In a manner of speaking. Yes.”

His brows knit as if he didn’t understand the language.

“Madam?”

Sighing, Sloan leaned her elbow on the ornate, carved wood counter. “Call her up and tell her it’s Sloan.”

“Of course. She usually lets me know if she’s expecting a visitor,”

he said apologetically. Apparently, it wasn’t so unusual for Talia to

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receive female visitors. Even ones who didn’t look like they belonged in her social circle.

“I’m sure she’s been busy.”

His face flushed, but he said nothing. After pushing a number on a portable phone, he muttered a few words, then set the handset down briskly. Coming around the side of the counter, he removed a small key from his belt. “Right this way, please.”

Sloan followed and waited while he keyed the private elevator.

“Hers is the only residence on the top floor. Have a nice evening.”

“Thanks. I’m planning on it.” As the doors slid closed, she saw him flush once again.

The ride up was swift and silent, and when the doors glided open she stepped out into a foyer as large and well appointed as some people’s living rooms. Thick wool carpets, a crystal chandelier, paintings on three walls above dark wood wainscoting, and a solid wood door worthy of an English mansion. A buzzer was discreetly inset into the wide, carved molding, but before Sloan had a chance to push it, the door opened.

“This is a nice surprise,” Talia said in a voice like warm honey.

She wore a dressing gown—not quite a robe, but not a dress, either. The maroon silk dipped sharply into the cleavage between her obviously unfettered breasts, and the belt tied loosely at her waist was more an invitation to be opened than anything else. Her legs were bare below the knee-length hem, her feet ensconced in backless sandals.

Sloan leaned her shoulder against the open door. “I assumed I was invited. You did give me your card.”

“Yes, but my address wasn’t on it.” Talia stepped aside so Sloan could enter. “I just opened a bottle of Romanée-Conti. Won’t you join me.” “Not the ’78, I hope,” Sloan said, referencing one of the costliest red Burgundy vintages ever produced by the fabled vineyard.

Talia smiled slowly and surveyed Sloan from head to toe. “Why not? I’m sure you’re worth it.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me.” Sloan followed her through the high-ceilinged living room, noting a dining room off to one side beyond a set of double French doors, and a hallway that she presumed led to the bedrooms.