Неизвестный - 5. Justice Served

“You’re early,” Catherine murmured as she lifted the sheets and slid over to make room.

Sighing, Rebecca settled next to her and drew her close. “Sorry. I tried to be quiet.”

“You were, but you don’t need to be. I like to wake up when you come home.” Catherine curved her leg over Rebecca’s thighs, and the touch of her lover’s skin stirred her as always. “Is everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Rebecca slid her hand under Catherine’s hair and alternated between stroking the back of her neck and weaving the

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thick, soft strands through her Þ ngers. “I spent most of the last six hours watching George Beecher hit on women in fern bars.”

Catherine laughed. “I don’t think they call them that anymore, darling.”

“Well, whatever they call the places where swinging singles go to hook up, that’s where I was. Jesus, what a life.”

“He’s still one of your two prime candidates as the Mob’s inside man in the department?” Even as she asked, Catherine shook her head.

“I can’t believe I’m even saying this. It seems impossible.” Then she remembered the night that she’d raced from Sloan’s building to Þ nd Michael lying in the street unconscious and knew that it was all far too real. “God, an assistant district attorney.”

“Better than a cop,” Rebecca pronounced.

“Yes.”

“I trust Sloan’s information. We have to run with the names she’s given us until we come up with something more solid.”

“So you’re going to…what? Follow him around every night?”

Rebecca shrugged. “Once we get the Þ rst bit of hard evidence, I can justify twenty-four-hour surveillance to Henry. Until then, yeah, it’ll be just me. Watts is taking the woman.”

Catherine was silent, struggling to assimilate the reality of her lover’s work. That it was a valuable service, she did not doubt. That it was essential to the structure of the society in which she lived, she did not doubt. She respected Rebecca’s skill and was proud of her dedication. And she hated every minute, day or night, that Rebecca squared off, face-to-face, with evil.

“I see,” Catherine Þ nally said, because regardless of how she felt, Rebecca would do what needed to be done.

“It’s not dangerous,” Rebecca said as if reading Catherine’s thoughts. “Only deadly boring.”

“I don’t mind you being bored now and then,” Catherine murmured, smoothing her palm over the center of Rebecca’s chest. The tips of her Þ ngers brushed the ridge of scar tissue at the upper border of her lover’s left breast, and she faltered, the tactile sensation triggering the memory of the bullet impacting Rebecca’s chest.

“It won’t happen again,” Rebecca murmured, gathering Catherine’s Þ ngers and lifting them to her lips. She kissed each Þ ngertip, then the palm. When Catherine moaned softly in appreciation, the sound struck

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home hard. Suddenly, every cell vibrated, and the need to join exploded in the very heart of her. “Catherine.”

The word was a benediction in the darkness.

“Yes,” Catherine answered the unspoken.

Rebecca arched her back and angled her hips until Catherine was beneath her and her hands framed Catherine’s face. “Don’t worry.”

“I don’t.” Catherine kissed her, a gentle brush of lips, then a deeper caress of tongue against tongue. “Not much.”

“You lie very badly, Dr. Rawlings.” Rebecca drew Catherine’s lower lip between her teeth and nibbled gently before easing her mouth over the crest of her lover’s chin and down her throat. As she worked her lips along the smooth skin, Catherine tilted her head back, exposing the fragile structures to Rebecca’s teeth. The trust in that simple gesture drove the breath from Rebecca’s chest, and as need ripped through her, she skimmed a hand between Catherine’s thighs. Finding her lover wet, she teased a Þ nger between her lips and over her Þ rm clitoris, sliding through Catherine’s desire with tantalizing slowness.

Gasping, Catherine dug her Þ ngers into Rebecca’s back and lifted her hips, seeking more of the enticing touch. “You’re so good at that.”

“What?” Rebecca rubbed her cheek over Catherine’s breast and captured a nipple with her lips. She toyed with the hard nub, ß icking it with her tongue as she echoed the rhythm with her Þ ngers. “Oh.” Flick.

“You mean…” Tug. “This?”

“Yes. Oh God.” Catherine nearly screamed as her body stiffened.

She drove her face into Rebecca’s neck and, in a voice almost too strangled to be heard, pleaded, “Inside. Make me come…deep.”

Rebecca pushed herself up on one arm as she buried herself in Catherine’s yielding depths. She pushed steadily, gasping as tissue slick with passion enveloped her, claiming her even as she laid claim.

“Oh Christ,” Rebecca whispered. “I love you.” She leaned back to bring Catherine up to face her, her arm thrusting steadily between Catherine’s thighs.

“I can’t…” Catherine gasped for air. “Can’t wait much longer.”

Rebecca’s thumb found Catherine’s rigid clitoris, and she stroked Þ rmly. “I don’t want you to wait. I want you to come all over me, right now.”

“Oh, I am. I am.” Catherine shivered, then froze as a cry tore from

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her throat. As her climax crested, she dropped her head to Rebecca’s shoulder and sucked hard on the thick muscle.

The unexpected sensation lanced through Rebecca’s chest and belly, igniting the nerve endings that already danced on the edge of explosion. “Touch me. Catherine, God, touch me.”

Still coming, Catherine skimmed her hand down Rebecca’s tensed abdomen and between her legs, closing unerringly around her clitoris.

Beyond thought, she tugged at Rebecca with the same staccato rhythm that pulsed through her body, harder than she might have had she been aware of her actions.

“Oh,” Rebecca shouted, shocked into orgasm. “Oh yeah…oh.”

As they clung to one another in the Þ nal moments of release, their cries mingled and eventually dwindled to faint moans and soft whimpers. Rebecca carried Catherine with her down onto the bed, cradling her against her chest. Catherine groped for the sheet and pulled it over them.

“I don’t know how you do that,” Catherine murmured, her voice thick with the vestiges of passion. “Know just what I need, just when I need it.”

“Just lucky, I guess,” Rebecca said seriously. She stroked Catherine’s hair. “I feel so damn lucky to have you.”

“What we have,” Catherine said. “It’s precious.”

“I know.” Rebecca sighed. “I’m trying to deserve it. I know I probably don—”

Catherine pressed her Þ ngers to Rebecca’s mouth. “Shh. That’s not what I meant.” She pressed a kiss to the scar that marked Rebecca’s heart. “I want you more than anything else in my life—more than safety, more than certainty, more than promises. Just you, here with me like this, every night. When you can, give me that.”

“I will,” Rebecca whispered. When I’m sure I won’t disappoint you, I will.

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CHAPTER SEVEN

Tuesday

Hey, it’s about time you showed up.” Jason greeted Mitchell with an affectionate smile and rolled an ofÞ ce chair in her direction. “Park it there, and let’s get to work.”

Gingerly, Mitchell leaned her crutches against a bench, eased into the chair, and propelled herself across the hardwood ß oor with her good leg to Jason’s side. “Man, it feels good to get down here.”

“How’d you escape?”

“Sandy got in late. She’s still asleep. I think Michael’s napping too.”

“Well, let’s just see how much we can get done before Sandy hauls your ass back upstairs.”

“I’m a lot better,” Mitchell protested.

“Don’t tell me—tell her. She’s the one riding herd on you.”

Mitchell grinned. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Rebecca called earlier. She and Watts have to be in court for some other case and will be by later. Sloan is at Police Plaza with the detectives she’s training for the new Electronic Surveillance Unit.” He shook his head. “They have no clue what they’re in for.”

“You know, six weeks ago I would’ve done anything to get assigned to that unit.”

“So what changed your mind?” Jason pushed a stack of computer printouts toward her. “I bet Rebecca could get you assigned if you wanted. It wouldn’t hurt for us to have another inside computer technician.”

“Uh-uh. I’ve got other things to do now.” Mitchell shufß ed the papers. “Are these the hits on the porn subscribers?”

“Yep. We need to start putting names to accounts.” Jason brought up a spreadsheet on the monitor. “This is how I’ve broken down the data so far.”

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“Okay. Split it up and I’ll get going.”

“So,” Jason said, transferring Þ les, “you like the undercover thing, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mitchell said absently as she scanned the Þ gures scrolling on her screen.

“And Mitch. You like Mitch too.”

Slowly, Mitchell swiveled to face Jason. “You know I do.”

“And you’re still okay with it?”

If it had been anyone other than Jason, she might not have answered. But Jason was the one person, other than Sandy, whom she trusted to understand. “It feels good. Like, just another part of me.”

Jason nodded, his eyes on her face. Waiting.

“And, well, Sandy likes it too.”

“That’s handy.”

Mitchell grinned. “And I like that she likes it.”

“Even better.” Jason appeared to be weighing his words.

“Sometimes it can get confusing.”

“Are you ever confused?” Mitchell asked softly.

“No,” Jason replied just as softly. “Never about what I feel, only about what others might think.”

“I already know what the only people who matter to me think.”

Jason looked as if he wanted to ask more, but he merely nodded.

“The boys were asking after Mitch last night. I told them he was laid up for a few days because of the motorcycle accident. They want to visit.”

Mitchell blinked. “Here?”

“I told them he was staying with some friends. It would probably be good for your cover if they saw you and Sandy together.”

“What about all the security and stuff in the building? Don’t you think that’ll make them curious?”

“They won’t ever see this ß oor, because we’ll program the elevator to go right to the loft. All they’re going to see is the garage and Sloan and Michael’s apartment.”

“What about the camera over the door? Most people don’t have one of those.”

Jason grinned. “We have a custom light Þ xture that screws over it for just such times as these.”

“Okay then. When?”

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“Jasmine has a show tonight. The kings will probably be there.

You up for it afterward?”

“Sure.” Mitchell wondered, however, if Sandy would be ready for Mitch to get back to work.

v

Watts, carrying a Styrofoam cup brimming with mud-colored coffee, ambled down the hall leaving a trail of splashes on the scuffed tile ß oor in his wake. He leaned against the door frame of a large room that resembled the vice squad room with its haphazard arrangement of desks and mismatched chairs—but there were ten times as many computers here. Sipping his coffee absently, he regarded the two men in shirtsleeves and baggy chinos—the kind of nerdy guys who got their asses kicked in high school—as they listened with rapt attention to Sloan. She was half turned away from him, one hip hiked up on a desk, as she pointed to something on a monitor that Watts couldn’t see. He had assumed that she’d be bored to tears setting up whatever it was the city wanted her to do, but to his surprise, she seemed to be into whatever she was saying. Even from where he was standing, he could sense her energy. He pushed away from the doorway and strolled in to join the group.