Authors: Radclyffe
“Okay,” Sandy said with a sigh. “I will.”
Alone in the office, Sloan stared at the screen. A lot more than a minute had passed since she’d traced the IP address for the computer where the images of Michael and Zamora had originated and pulled up a name and address for the account. Frye expected her to provide the details as soon as she was certain, preferably within sixty seconds.
Before
she took action. That was the part Sloan struggled with, because as soon as she turned over the information, what happened next would be out of her hands. And Michael’s safety was at risk.
She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, trying to sort through the labyrinth of choices, some of which would take her well outside the law.
“What’s the matter?” Michael said from behind her.
“I’m pretty sure if I open my eyes,” Sloan said, not moving, “I’m going to see the Sword of Damocles right above my head.”
“So if I’ve got this right,” Michael began to knead the bunched muscles in Sloan’s shoulders, “you know something you’re not certain you want to know. That’s not like you.”
“I know.” Sloan opened her eyes, swiveled her chair around, and tugged Michael onto her lap. Kissing her neck, she said, “I think I’m losing my edge.”
“No, you’re not. You’re finding a different edge.” Michael rested her cheek against the top of Sloan’s head. “Tell me.”
Sloan hesitated. Involving Michael went against every instinct she had. Her need for secrecy, her need to protect, her need to mete out justice according to her own rules. She’d lived by those tenets all her life, and the one time she’d broken her own rules, she’d paid with her career and a huge piece of her heart. But all that had transpired before Michael. And now everything had changed.
She took a breath, and before she could question where this new path would take her, she said, “I know who sent the pictures of you and Zamora. I’m supposed to tell Frye.” She looked at her watch. “Twenty-two minutes ago.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Why aren’t you asking me who it is?”
Michael caressed the side of Sloan’s neck. “Because I care about you more than I care about them.”
“If I tell Rebecca, then what happens will be beyond my control.”
“What do you want to do that Rebecca would stop you from doing?” Michael asked as calmly as she could, but her heart was racing and she felt slightly sick to her stomach. She didn’t fear what Sloan was capable of, only what Sloan might suffer as a consequence of her actions. She felt as if she were walking through a minefield, but
she
would not be the victim of a misstep. Sloan would. Michael was certain of only one thing. All that mattered was helping Sloan find her way to a decision that would not destroy her. “Baby?”
“I want to pay her a visit.”
Michael stiffened. “Her?”
“Yes. The redhead you saw talking to me at the fund-raiser the other night.” Sloan laughed shortly. “I guess that wasn’t a coincidence.”
“Apparently not,” Michael said coolly. “What kind of game do you think she’s playing?”
“I imagine they’re hoping to buy my cooperation with a threat to you.”
“So why would she reveal herself to you at all? Why not a phone call? A message on your computer?” Michael walked a few paces away, then spun around. “She might be in league with Zamora, or someone like that. But she’s got her own agenda.” Michael pointed a finger at Sloan. “And you are on the menu.”
Sloan’s eyebrows rose. “Me?”
“Darling, you are so clueless sometimes.” Michael walked back and leaned down, gripping the chair arms on either side of Sloan’s body. “I thought at one point the other night, when I noticed the two of you together, that she was flirting with you, but I told myself it was just my imagination. Obviously it wasn’t. She has designs on you.”
“Designs?” Sloan thought back to the business card and the phone number. “She gave me her card. With her home number on it.”
“Did she?” Michael studied Sloan through narrowed eyes. “Does that happen to you often? Women you’ve just met giving you their number?”
“Not anymore.” Sloan held up her left hand, where she wore a platinum band that matched the one on Michael’s finger. “But I knew something was off, that’s why I kept it.”
Sloan lifted Michael’s arms away from the chair and kissed her soundly as she stood up. Talia Ballenger had made a mistake by revealing herself. She’d misjudged just how meaningless Sloan found the attentions of any other woman except Michael.
“Not so fast.” Michael grabbed the back of Sloan’s shirt when she would have hurried away. “What are you going to do?”
“Why, I’m going to call Rebecca, of course.” Sloan pulled Michael close and kissed her once again. “What else?”
*
“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Bishop Thomas,” Rebecca said, taking the chair he indicated across from his desk.
The Most Reverend Joseph Thomas was even more distinguished looking in person than the poor-resolution photograph had conveyed. He wore a black suit and dark shirt with a clerical collar. His steel gray hair was thick and expertly cut, his body fit, and his face tanned and healthy. His blue eyes regarded her with speculation.
“How can I help you, Officer?”
“Lieutenant.” Rebecca crossed her legs and regarded him silently for a moment, letting him look her over. She waited until his gaze flicked away. “I wonder if you could account for your whereabouts Saturday evening from, say, ten p.m. until three a.m.?”
“I can’t think why you would need to know that,” he said with casual confidence.
“I imagine if you gave it a little time, you would.” Rebecca smiled. “Since it was only a few days ago, I suspect you remember. So perhaps you would just indulge me so that I won’t have to take up any more of your time. I’m sure you’re busy.”
Bishop Thomas’s eyes became glacial. “Do I need to consult an attorney, Lieutenant?”
“I don’t know.” Rebecca withdrew the photo from her inside pocket. She’d had Jason print it on photo paper, highlighting the date and time stamp. She slid it across the desk to him. “What do you think?”
He looked at the photo for a long moment without picking it up. Then he pushed it back to her, obviously knowing that other copies existed and that keeping that one would not protect him. Rebecca was impressed with his control. He was faced with potentially ruinous exposure, and if they could find the girls in the photograph and prove their ages, he could be prosecuted for rape and would undoubtedly go to prison. Still, by all outward appearances, he was unruffled.
“The fact that you’re here and haven’t gone to my superiors or,” he laughed humorlessly, “simply arrested me, tells me there’s something that you want.”
“There are a lot of things that I want,” Rebecca said softly. “I would be happy just to see you in prison, and if that’s all I can get out of this, that will be enough.”
“But?” He steepled his fingers under his chin, as if waiting patiently for
her
to confess so that he could absolve her of her sins.
For a few seconds, Rebecca wondered if he really believed he was above the law. “Arresting you would make my day. But I’d rather make my week or even a whole month. I want the men who organized this little soirée.” She held up her hand before he could speak. “And you know who they are. If you want to plead ignorance, you certainly may. But then I’m going to walk you out of this building in handcuffs and let the lawyers fight it out. And I guarantee you’ll spend time in a cell while they do.”
The bishop nodded. “I don’t suppose you’d care that I have some very important friends who might be unhappy if you did that.”
“Not a bit.”
“No, I didn’t think so. What do you want?”
“I want to know how it works. Who you call when you want… What? A date?”
He winced. “A companion.”
Rebecca thought of the young girl with her hand on the man’s penis, and the fact that he could sit across from her as if it hadn’t happened. She had to struggle not to cuff him on the spot. “I want to know who you call. Who gives instructions as to where to go. Who do you pay? I want to know how it works.”
“And then?”
“And then I want you to request an evening’s companionship.”
*
“You’re overstepping on this, Lieutenant,” ADA Eva Dunbar snapped when Rebecca laid out the plan for her.
After she’d left the Bishop Thomas, Rebecca had called the thirty-five-year-old African-American prosecutor and asked her to meet in a coffee bar near City Hall. She’d chosen Dunbar because she’d worked with her a few times before and knew she had a sense of the big picture. Dunbar wasn’t about a quick and easy win if there was a bigger prize to be had, even if there was some risk involved.
“If you’re not interested, I’m sure the feds will be.”
Eva Dunbar wore a deep red Armani suit with a thin black shell and heels. She and Rebecca were nearly the same height, but Dunbar’s body was fuller than Rebecca’s. When she leaned across the table, her dark eyes sparked with irritation. “I’m not a rookie, Rebecca.”
“I know,” Rebecca said with a slight smile. “That’s why I picked you.”
“If you trusted the feds, you would’ve gone to them first.”
“You might be right.” Rebecca shrugged. “But I favor the home team. So I thought you’d want a shot.”
“What I want,” Dunbar said, “is to make my own deals. What did you promise him for his cooperation?”
“Not a thing. Only that his cooperation would be given serious consideration.”
“I want to nail his ass to his own cross,” Dunbar said vehemently.
“Perhaps you could keep that sentiment to yourself until I get the one I’m after.”
Dunbar leaned back in her seat. “You really think you’re going to get Zamora?”
“I think I’m going to get someone high enough up the ladder to give him to me.”
“Wouldn’t that be pretty.”
When Dunbar smiled, Rebecca had the sense of a powerful predator savoring the coming kill. “So do we have a deal?”
“You’ll still owe me for not coming to me first with this.”
“Consider me in your debt.”
*
“Hey, babe,” Dell called, walking into the bedroom at Sloan and Michael’s. “Your sexy cop is home.”
“Good. Because I want to shower and I need you to wash my hair.”
Dell frowned. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“I’m sure if you don’t give me a hand, you’re going to be one dead sexy cop.”
“Okay. Okay. I’m on it.” Dell kicked off her boots and shed her shirt and jeans in record time. Naked, she walked to the bed and pulled down the covers. Holding out her hand, she said, “Ready?”
Sandy surveyed her, taking her time, looking over Dell’s wiry muscular frame, her small neat breasts, her tight ass. She licked her lips. “Man, do I want a piece of you.”
Watching Sandy’s tongue skate across her soft, full lips, Dell got hot all over and her clit went wild. “You just gave me a full-on hard-on, babe.”
“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 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.”