Authors: Radclyffe
When Michael slumped in her arms, Sloan caressed her hair and gently kissed her. “We’re going to need another shower.”
Michael laughed. “I’ve missed that so much.”
“I love you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Michael nipped at Sloan’s chin. “Come on. Let’s get this event done with so I can have you again.”
*
Talia held the door open for Kratos.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” he said, his eyes taking her in.
“Not at all.” Talia had almost changed her mind about meeting him at the door in a dressing gown because she did not want to be too obvious about wielding her body as a weapon. His attraction to her blunted his usually intense focus and gave her a slight advantage in their business dealings, but she did not delude herself into thinking she was safe with him.
Men like Kratos Zamora were wholly without sentimentality for anyone other than their wives and children. She had no doubt he would dispatch her without a second’s thought if he felt she had become a liability. Or a threat. He was a powerful man who wielded his power as much for the pleasure of it as anything else. She wasn’t entirely convinced that he cared about the police investigation or the fact that his dealings with his Russian colleagues might be disrupted. She thought he might simply want to prove that he was beyond the reach of the authorities by beating them at their own game.
“Come into the sitting room,” she said. “The maid will bring coffee in a few minutes.”
Talia led him into the adjoining parlor, where a fire burned in the fireplace. She sat in one of the upholstered English armchairs and Kratos took the other. She could tell from the way his eyes lingered on her breasts that her choice of the burgundy satin robe was as distracting as she intended. She willed her nipples not to rise. She wasn’t aroused by his desire, but rather by the game between them. The danger inherent in any encounter with him always aroused her, and she enjoyed the edgy anticipation in the pit of her stomach.
“I took your advice,” he said, finally meeting her eyes. He slipped a small envelope from inside his jacket and placed it on the Queen Anne table between their chairs. “I had an interesting business meeting yesterday.”
Intrigued, Talia picked up the envelope and lifted the flap. A memory card was the only thing inside. She laughed softly. “Let me guess. Photos?”
Kratos nodded.
“We’re very much alike, you and I,” she mused.
“How is that?”
“Easy victories are far from satisfying,” Talia observed. She was talking about Kratos’s campaign against the authorities who had the audacity to challenge his power, but she might just as well have been talking about his interest in her.
“Sometimes,” Kratos said, his voice smooth and seductive, “playing can be almost as pleasurable as winning.”
“Then by all means,” Talia said. “Let’s make the game a challenge.”
*
Whistling softly, Sloan threaded the gold and platinum cufflinks through her French cuffs as she walked into the kitchen. She thought a glass of wine with Michael before they left would be nice because once they arrived at the benefit, Michael would be busy networking and they would spend the rest of the evening in their separate spheres. Between the recent investigations and Michael’s injury, they’d had very little time to enjoy one another, and she realized how unbalanced her life had become without the simple joy of being with Michael.
Sloan stopped in the doorway when she saw Dell Mitchell standing in front of the refrigerator with two bottles of beer in her hand. She wore threadbare gray sweats hanging low on her hips and a black sleeveless T-shirt with the PPD emblem.
“Hey,” Sloan said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m solid. You look slick.”
Sloan glanced down at her tux shirt and pants and shrugged. “Gotta play the game.”
“Yeah,” Dell said, twisting the cap off one of the bottles before taking a long swallow. She still had dark circles under her eyes, but she looked a little more rested than the last time Sloan had seen her. “I know what you mean.”
Sloan reached for a bottle of wine and fished a corkscrew out of the drawer. She lowered her voice. “Things going okay with Irina?”
“I think we’re getting somewhere. At least we’re attracting some attention from the Russians.”
“Frye know?”
Dell nodded. “Yeah. I filled her in on the phone a while ago.”
“We’re all tied up tonight, so you need to stay off the streets. No backup.”
“I’m just going to check on Irina in a while. I don’t know how hard anyone is looking for her, and she’s alone.”
Sloan frowned and pulled the cork from the bottle. “Keep your eyes open.”
“Will do.”
“Jasmine with you last night?”
Dell smiled. “Oh yeah. She’s amazing. Hot too.”
“Hot.” Sloan chuckled. “That she is. And then some.”
“Out here talking about other women?” Michael said as she came around the corner. She held out her hand for the glass of wine Sloan had filled. “Is that for me?”
Wordlessly, Sloan handed it to her, taking in Michael’s midnight blue evening dress. The color made her eyes even more vivid, and the form-hugging cut accentuated her slender body and full breasts. In heels, she was taller than Sloan, close to six feet, and she looked as if she had just stepped off a Manhattan runway. Sloan swallowed hard, instantly wanting Michael’s mouth on her again.
“Wow,” Dell blurted.
Sloan cut her a look.
“Hello, Dell,” Michael said. “Everything all right?”
“Fine.”
Sandy ambled in wearing one of Dell’s T-shirts and something under it that wasn’t immediately visible. She went directly to Dell, took the open beer bottle from her hand, and said, “Stop drooling over Michael.”
“I’m not!” Dell exclaimed.
“Uh-huh.” Sandy settled her butt into Dell’s crotch and sipped the beer. Dell wrapped an arm around her middle. “You look awesome. Both of you.”
Michael smiled. “Thanks. I almost feel like we’re going out on a date.”
Inwardly, Sloan grimaced. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was supposed to be watching Kratos Zamora, trying to find out who his upper-echelon political associates might be. And she was going to be busy keeping Michael far away from him. She was not looking forward to the evening.
“I want to stop downstairs for a second,” she told Michael. “I’ve got a program running I need to check. Give me five minutes, okay?”
Michael stroked her cheek. “Promise you won’t get distracted?”
Sloan caught her wrist and kissed her fingers. “Promise.”
“Go ahead, then,” Michael whispered.
Sloan nodded to Dell and Sandy and took the stairs down to the third floor. She had set several programs to launch in an attempt to trace probes being sent out against her system. She wanted to see if they’d been activated. As soon as she caught sight of her main screen, she knew there was a problem. Images flickered across the surface, where there should be only data.
As she drew closer and could make out details, a red haze of fury clouded her vision at the same time as her stomach turned to cold, hard stone. She stared at photos of Michael. Michael stepping out of the building. Michael at the wheel of her car. Michael talking to several colleagues in the lobby of her building. And one final photo that seared into her brain.
Michael seated at a window table in a restaurant with Kratos Zamora.
“Sloan?” Michael reached across the space between them and put her hand on Sloan’s thigh. “What’s wrong?”
Sloan hit the gas and whipped the Porsche around one of the many horse-drawn carriages that shared the roads in Old City, providing tours of the myriad historic sites. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She wasn’t certain what she was going to do when she was actually in the same room as Kratos Zamora. She could still see him leaning slightly across the restaurant table toward Michael, his expression intent, as if he were riveted to every word Michael might say. Michael had been laughing, and she was so damned beautiful. Beautiful and innocent. Innocent of the kinds of games that men like Zamora played. Innocent of the world he lived in and that Sloan had lived in not so long ago. There were no dark places in Michael’s heart, no monsters buried in her past. Michael was everything good and pure in Sloan’s life, and she would kill to prevent anyone from changing that.
“You know how much I hate these things.” She kept a grip on the wheel, afraid Michael would see her hands shaking. Her head pounded with rage.
Michael always knew when Sloan was holding something in, forcing something down, containing her anger. She rubbed her hand up and down Sloan’s thigh. The muscles were hard as iron, and even in the low light of the car, the set of Sloan’s jaw was unmistakable. She was oh so very good at holding on to her control. Except the price for that remarkable control was distance, the one thing Michael could not bear.
“I’ve only had you for a few minutes tonight,” Michael whispered. “Please don’t go away so soon.”
The pain in her voice cut through the wall of Sloan’s fury like nothing else could. She dropped her hand from the wheel and covered Michael’s, lacing their fingers together. “I’m sorry. I’m…a little preoccupied with the investigation.” Forcing a smile, she lifted Michael’s hand to her lips. “And I really do hate these fancy parties.”
“For someone who looks so good in a tux, that’s a shame.” Michael withdrew her hand and moved it to the back of Sloan’s neck. She toyed with the wavy black strands that curled over the stiff collar of Sloan’s shirt. “You know I don’t resent your work, don’t you?”
Sloan nodded.
“What’s hard for me is losing you to it.”
“You don’t,” Sloan said hoarsely. She glanced at Michael, then back at the road. “You’re always in my heart. I’m sorry if I—”
“Pull over.”
Wordlessly, Sloan obeyed. As soon as she slid the transmission into Park, the powerful engine still idling, Michael leaned over for a kiss. With a soft groan, Sloan gave herself over to the silky heat of Michael’s mouth. She wished she could take her home, away from the evil and depravity, and let Michael exorcize her fear and anger. But Michael was a woman with her own needs, her own life, and Sloan could not protect her from everything that might hurt her.
“Does this mean you forgive me?” Sloan asked when she drew back for a breath.
Michael smiled and skimmed her fingertip over Sloan’s mouth. “Nothing to forgive. That was me telling you I love you exactly the way you are.”
Sloan lowered her head. If Michael knew everything about her, she might not say that. She whispered, “I love you so much.”
“You love me exactly the right way.” Michael stroked Sloan’s hair. “Someday, my darling Sloan, I want you to help me do the same.”
“You do,” Sloan exclaimed.
“Only as much as you let me.” Michael smiled a little sadly. “Now we need to go.”
Sloan let out a long breath and put the car in gear. “Let’s do this thing.”
*
“You can leave your dick in the drawer,” Sandy said, crossing her arms beneath her small breasts. “Because Mitch isn’t going anywhere tonight.”
Dell pulled on her clean T-shirt and stared at Sandy. “What the fuck, San?”
Perched on the edge of the bed, still in her T-shirt and panties, Sandy said, “I heard Sloan say you don’t have any backup tonight. So you can’t work.”
“What else did you hear?” Dell grabbed a clean pair of black jeans from the pile of clothes Sandy had brought from her apartment. She didn’t exactly mean to keep secrets from Sandy, but she hated for her to get worked up about things that
might
happen. Or might not. And she definitely didn’t want her getting worked up over Irina. Like that was ever gonna happen. “Thanks for bringing clothes for me.”
“Let’s see. You were saying…” Sandy put a finger on her chin as if she were thinking. “Oh, right. You’ve also got a hard-on for Jasmine.”
“I do not!” Dell stuffed her T-shirt into her jeans and bent over to strap on her ankle holster before pulling on her motorcycle boots. “I just said she was hot. Merely an observation.”
“Oh yeah. Like a guy says a girl has great tits, but he’s not
really
thinking about getting his hands on them or anything.”
“I didn’t say she has great tits. Actually, I think she has a great mouth.” Dell ducked, laughing as Sandy grabbed the pillow from behind her and flung it.
“You blockhead.” Sandy flung the other pillow. “There’s no way Jasmine could ever give you the kind of blow job I can. I don’t care how pretty her mouth looks.”
Dell dropped to her knees in front of Sandy and wrapped her arms around Sandy’s waist. She pulled her to the edge of the bed until she could pillow her face against her breasts, then she nuzzled Sandy’s nipple through the thin cotton T-shirt. “Babe, nobody can do anything to me the way you can.” She tilted her head back and kissed Sandy’s chin. “How come you’re so grumpy?”
“Maybe because my girlfriend is spending every night with a girl who wants to get into her pants.” Sandy tugged a fistful of Dell’s hair, and her expression darkened. “Maybe because you’re coming home so wound up I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt out there.”