Authors: Radclyffe
“Babe.” Dell stroked Sandy’s cheek. “I’m being careful. I promise. And I’m going to be back early tonight. It’s just a quick check, okay?”
Sandy ran her fingertips over Dell’s eyebrows, then kissed her. “Do what you have to. Just keep your dick on ice. ’Kay?”
“I will.” Dell stood and grabbed her motorcycle jacket. “I’ll be back really soon.”
Sandy waited until she heard the elevator go down, then headed for the shower. It was Saturday night, and she had things to do too.
*
Rebecca angled through the crowd toward Sloan, who stood next to the bar set up against one wall, cradling a glass of liquor in her hand. The city’s wealthy and influential occupied most of the linen-covered tables filling the banquet hall. At the front of the room, a dais stood in the center of an elevated stage, flanked by two tables. Catherine and several board members from city and charitable organizations sat at one table. Michael sat at the other, between the mayor and Kratos Zamora, directly on her left. The police commissioner occupied the end seat next to Zamora.
After the obligatory mingling over hors d’oeuvres and drinks, dinner had been served and now the real work of the evening began. Speakers took the stage in turns praising the mayor’s efforts to support the city’s poor and disenfranchised and strengthen the local economy. Pleas were made for more donations and pledges of support for the mayor’s reelection campaign.
“Looks like the mayor’s got some important people on his side,” Rebecca murmured. “Including our friend.”
“We pretty much already knew that,” Sloan said, clenching the glass in her hand as Zamora leaned close and said something that made Michael smile, even as she kept her eyes on the current speaker.
“Did you say anything to Michael about our interest in him?” Rebecca asked.
“No.”
“His attention to her is just coincidental, then.” Rebecca watched Sloan carefully. From the moment she and Michael had arrived, she’d looked ready to explode. Anyone who didn’t know her as well as Rebecca did probably would have missed the signs. Her usual feline grace was absent. She moved instead with the wary precision of a trained martial artist on the verge of launching a killing blow. Coiled muscles and singular focus. And her prey was very obviously Kratos Zamora. She hadn’t taken her eyes off him the entire evening. If he’d noticed, he gave no indication of it, but Rebecca had seen his bodyguards scanning the crowds. Their eyes continually returned to Sloan.
“His muscle has picked up on you,” Rebecca said.
“Fine.”
“You need to go outside. Take a walk around. Get some air.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You might as well be waving a banner with his name on it, saying ‘I’m after you.’”
Sloan slugged down her scotch. “You think they don’t know.”
“Probably they do. But we don’t need to take out an ad.”
“Fuck them.” Sloan finally took her eyes off Michael and focused on Rebecca. “Doesn’t it bother you? That they flaunt their invincibility? That they spit on us while cozying up to the mayor and the police commissioner? When we know he’s dirty?”
“It doesn’t matter what we know. It matters what we can prove.”
“No,” Sloan said. “It matters what
you
can prove.”
“Times have changed. Men like him have become politicians.”
“What does that make men like the commissioner, then? Front men for felons?”
“I haven’t had dealings with the commissioner. He didn’t come up the ranks. It’s an elected position.”
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 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.”
*
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 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.”
“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.”
*
“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?”
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.”
“I know.” Catherine turned aside for a few seconds to say good night to the deputy mayor, then she placed a hand on Rebecca’s arm. “Are you coming home with me?”
“I think we’re done here for the night.” Rebecca watched Zamora move toward the exit, followed by his entourage of bodyguards masquerading as business associates. He stopped every few feet to speak with some highly placed official. The deputy mayor. The district attorney. The head of one of the local political parties. “We’ve seen what we came to see.”
“Then I’m going to take advantage of the few hours when you’re not working and I’m actually awake. Let’s go.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “Does that include taking advantage of me?”
Catherine laughed. “Most definitely, my darling.”
Dell was always relieved to find that Irina hadn’t taken off. But then, where would she go?
“Sorry I didn’t think of this sooner,” Dell said, setting a large cardboard box down by the foot of the mattress. She noticed a neat stack of magazines and newspapers nearby. Some in English, some in Russian. She knelt down and started opening the box. “You read English?”
“Yes.”
“I guess that’s a dumb question. You speak English.” Dell shook her head. “Sorry.”
“It is all right.” Irina walked to the refrigerator. “There is beer. Do you want one?”
Dell glanced over her shoulder, surprised when she saw Irina holding up a bottle of the brand she drank. Irina wore navy slacks that hugged her legs like skin and a pink V-neck tee with little sequins along the neck. The shirt ended an inch or so above her waistband. Jewelry of some kind winked in a navel piercing. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She usually didn’t. Her breasts were a lot bigger than Sandy’s. Dell looked away. “Beer would be great. Thanks. Did you have enough to eat?”
“I am fine here.” Irina placed the bottle on the floor next to Dell and curled up on the mattress nearby. She popped her head on her elbow and watched Dell work. “You brought a television?”
“I thought you might be bored.”
“We are not going out tonight?”
“I thought after last night we should lay low for a little bit.” Dell sat back on her heels. “Did anything happen today? Did anyone call? This guy Olik, he has your cell number, right?”
“Yes, although before he would not call me. He would call Yuri. When he wanted the girls for something special.”