Authors: Radclyffe
“Right,” Dell said when Catherine paused.
“But when you have to be physical with her because of the roles you’re both playing, you become aroused.”
“Yes.”
“What is there about your body’s response in that situation that makes you worry?”
“I bet the lieutenant wouldn’t get turned on. I bet she’d be cool. She’s always in control.”
“Everyone is different, Dellon,” Catherine said, carefully not thinking about her lover becoming aroused with another woman. She’d have to think about it later, especially the quick surge of jealous anger the idea provoked. “Our bodies are different, our physical triggers are different. That’s neither good nor bad. It’s just a fact.”
“So you don’t think I should feel guilty about it?”
“I think when you’re working, the most important thing is that you keep your mind clear. It’s important for your safety and Irina’s that you be totally focused on the situation. If you’re worried about what you’re feeling, put that aside temporarily.” Catherine squeezed Dellon’s arm. “You can talk to me about it later, if you want to.”
“Sandy says she never got turned on when she was working,” Dell said in a low voice. “That always made me glad. I hate thinking about her touching anyone else. Having them touch her.”
“Sandy isn’t you, Dell. And what she was doing is very different than what you’re doing. There are some similarities, yes. The physical interaction with someone you don’t love—that’s the same. But there are so many differences, you can’t compare them.”
“I can tell she doesn’t like Mitch and Irina spending time together, but she’s trying to deal.”
“Are the two of you able to talk about it?”
“Some.” Dell sighed. “We’re working on it.”
“Good. That’s exactly what you need to do.” Catherine hesitated, wondering if she should talk to Rebecca, then pushed on. “If the two of you want to talk with me, you can call me.”
“Yeah?” Dell’s eyes brightened.
“Yes. There are no rules for what you’re doing, Dellon, and I think you’re doing a terrific job. Both you and Sandy.”
“Could you tell my lieutenant that?”
“Oh, I most definitely will.” Catherine stood. “Come see me next week, all right?”
“Okay, yeah. That would be good.” Dell rose and slid her hands in her pockets. Rocking back on her heels, she grinned. “I guess the lieutenant was right about me coming to see you. She’s pretty much always right.”
Catherine laughed. “Let’s not remind her of that.”
*
Watts rapped on the partially open door of the large utilitarian room with one wall of windows overlooking the docks at the Packer Avenue terminal of the Port of Philadelphia. A robust African-American woman in a spit-and-polish uniform looked up from behind a desk when he pushed the door open a few more inches.
Captain Carla Reiser smiled, her smooth mocha features relaxing, taking ten years off her already youthful face, and dropped the sheaf of papers she was studying onto the center of her desk. “Bill. Good to see you.”
“Yeah. You too.” Watts ambled a few feet into the room. “Busy?”
“Half a dozen of my dock supervisors have been arrested and I’ve got feds crawling all over my port.” Carla shrugged. “Normal day.”
Watts laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Social visit?” Carla’s voice held just a hint of playfulness and Watts tried not to grin like an idiot. Carla headed security for the whole port, and she’d helped orchestrate the interception of the last shipment of girls from Eastern Europe. She was sharp and savvy and smart, and he couldn’t believe his luck that a woman like her even noticed he was alive.
“You remember Jason?” Watts asked.
“The blond computer cop, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Watts was foolishly pleased that she hadn’t commented on how good-looking Jason was. Everyone always referred to him as too handsome to be a man. Geez, it could give a guy a complex. “He’s up at the IT center, poking around in your computers, trying to figure out who did what and how.”
“If he finds anything, I hope he lets me know.”
“What about the feds? Are they turning up anything?”
“Who knows. If they talk to you, then you’re doing a lot better than me.”
“That’s a no, then,” Watts grunted.
Carla gestured to the worn plaid sofa pushed against one wall. “Sit down. Coffee?”
“I’ll get it. I’m up.” Watts poured coffee from the Pyrex carafe into two oversized Styrofoam cups, added powdered creamer, stirred both with one of the wooden sticks from a nearby tray, and carried the cups back to the couch. Carla had settled into one corner, and he handed her the coffee. “Light, no sugar, right?”
“Very good.”
He felt himself coloring and hastily sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. “So are you catching any heat from the arrests, or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I’m the ranking officer in charge on-site. All my superiors man desks downtown.” Carla sipped her coffee, her eyes contemplative. “They’re looking at me, but they haven’t put me on administrative leave. Yet.”
“That blows.”
Carla laughed. “It surely does.” She shifted until her knee touched his and leaned forward. “I don’t believe for a minute that those six supervisors were anywhere near the top of the food chain. Whoever was running this operation had to have international connections and some way of moving human beings and God knows what else out of this port. I want them.”
“You’re gonna have to get in line,” Watts said softly. “These guys almost killed my lieutenant.”
“I heard you had casualties. Is she okay?”
“Back on the job,” Watts said.
“Tough.”
Watts nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just clear Jason to look at anything he wants to, should anybody ask. If anyone balks at that, let us know, and we’ll look extra hard at them.” Watson set his cup on the scarred coffee table in front of the sofa. “Got any ideas where we ought to look?”
“I’ve got four warehouses and a hundred thirty loading docks at this terminal alone. We have thousands of containers offloading every month. Do we lose one for a few hours or a day because bills of lading were filled out incorrectly by someone who doesn’t even speak English ten thousand miles away? Yes. Does contraband come through inside the cars or barrels of cocoa beans or tons of clothing merchandise? Undoubtedly.” She shook her head angrily. “But people? Human beings transported across the ocean in pitch-black unvented metal coffins? If I had any idea which of my officers helped, I’d drag their sorry carcasses to you myself.”
“I guess that’s why they call those girls slaves,” Watts said. Then he thought of what he had said, and to whom. “Well fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No need to apologize, Bill.” Carla collected their cups and threw them into the trash. Back at her desk, she scribbled something on the back of a business card and held it out to him. “Give this to Jason. It’s my direct number. Anything he needs, tell him to call me.”
“Thanks,” Watts said, pocketing the card. “Well, I have to get back to headquarters.”
Watts was almost to the door when Carla said, “Bill.”
He turned, aware he was holding his breath.
Carla’s eyes sparkled as if she were about to laugh, and the lighthearted expression made her look welcoming and sexy at the same time. “How about dinner some night?”
“How about tomorrow?”
*
“For how long, Dell?” Sandy exclaimed, standing across the small room, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts.
Dell could almost see her quiver. She hoped with anger, not hurt. “I don’t know, babe. A few days, a week maybe.”
“Or two weeks? Or three? Maybe a month?” Sandy’s voice shook. “You want me to stay at Michael’s, in a strange bed, alone, while you’re here with Irina? Going out with her every night. Coming home with her?”
Sandy looked around the room, her eyes wild. For a second, Dell thought she might be looking for something to throw. She took a cautious step forward. Then another. When Sandy wouldn’t even look at her, she kept going until she was right in front of her. Inches away. Then she very gently rested her hands on Sandy’s shoulders. Sandy still wouldn’t look at her, so she tilted her head down until their eyes could meet. “I’ll come over there whenever I can. You think I want to sleep without you?”
When Sandy didn’t answer, Dell tucked two fingers under her chin and turned her head until she was sure Sandy had focused on her. “When are you going to believe me? I love you. Like crazy. Like so much all I think about is you.”
She kissed her, letting her lips linger on Sandy’s mouth even though Sandy did not return her kiss. She brushed her lips back and forth until Sandy’s breath fluttered out on a sigh, then danced her tongue over Sandy’s lower lip until Sandy’s arms slipped around her neck. The tightness in Dell’s chest eased and she moved them backward to the sofa. Then she pulled Sandy down beside her, keeping Sandy in the curve of her arm, tight against her body.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Dell asked.
Sandy thumped her arm. “It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about me missing you.”
“You think I won’t miss you?”
“You’ll be working,” Sandy said softly, her voice muffled against Dell’s T-shirt.
Dell shifted the short soft strands of Sandy’s hair through her fingers. “I’ll always be working. That doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about you. Jesus, San, I love you.”
Sandy sat back, her eyes searching Dell’s face. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Frye, one of those up close and personal ones she’d rather not have. Frye had said if she loved Dell she couldn’t make her crazy, because then Dell wouldn’t be thinking about work. Instead she’d be thinking about her, and she’d get hurt.
“I love you too,” Sandy told her. “I like knowing you’re coming home to me. I like coming home to you. I like it a lot.”
“Fuck.” Dell pushed her fingers through her hair. “I thought I was doing a good thing, moving you out of here. I don’t like Mitch and Irina being so close to you. I don’t know what the guys Irina has been working with will do when she hooks up with them again.”
“You think they’ll hurt her?”
“I don’t know. Probably not. But just the same—”
“You’re gonna be with her, Dell. What about you getting hurt?” Sandy slapped Dell’s chest. “And don’t give me that crap about you being a cop. You don’t wear a vest when you’re with her. Anything could happen.”
“Maybe,” Dell admitted. She wasn’t going to insult Sandy by blowing smoke at her. “But I’ll have backup. The lieutenant and Watts are following me.”
“Yeah, just like they were following you when you went into that house with her the last time. Frye almost ended up dead.” Sandy grabbed Dell’s face between her hands. “If something happens to you, rookie, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Dell covered Sandy’s hands with hers. “That’s how I feel about you, don’t you get it? I’m totally soft for you, babe.”
Sandy laughed, her eyes flickering down to Dell’s crotch. “Since when?”
“Up here,” Dell said, tapping her forehead.
Sandy straddled Dell’s lap. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Uh…it’s hard for me to think right now.”
“Try.” Sandy leaned forward and kissed Dell fleetingly before leaning back.
“Working.” Dell could tell from Sandy’s stare that she wasn’t going to get away with anything short of details. “At the Troc. Then Ziggie’s. Then I don’t know.”
“Jesus, Dell,” Sandy whispered. “You gotta be careful.”
“I will. I promise.”
Sandy kissed her again, but it wasn’t a
fuck me
kiss. It was an
I love you more than anything
kiss. Then she climbed off Dell’s lap, walked to the small closet, and pulled out a worn floral fabric suitcase.
“What are you doing?” Dell asked, her voice hoarse.
“Packing some stuff to go to Michael’s.”
“You sure?”
Sandy looked over her shoulder and made herself smile. “Yeah, Michael is cool. No problem.”
“I’ll be there later tonight.”
“Okay. That’s good.”
Sandy carried the bag to the dresser just inside the door and started pulling items from the drawers. Dell went up behind her and put her arms around her, tugging Sandy back against her chest. She nuzzled Sandy’s neck. “I know you don’t want to.”
“I said it’s okay.”
“I know. But it sucks. And I’m sorry.”
Sandy turned in Dell’s arms and pressed into the curve of Dell’s body until not even a whisper stood between them. “I want to do this for you.”
“Thank you,” Dell murmured, amazed when her eyes filled with tears. She probably should have been embarrassed, but she wasn’t. She just held on more tightly. “Thank you.”
Michael had just finished changing from her work clothes into loose cotton slacks and a pullover when Sandy buzzed from downstairs. Tugging the clasp from her hair, she shook out the shoulder-length waves on the way to the elevator.