Неизвестный - 6. Justice For All
“Her name is JT Sloan.”
v
The first thing Sloan saw when she stepped off the elevator into the loft was Michael curled up on the sofa in front of the fireplace, a book on her lap and the firelight casting her face in a soft, warm glow. She wore a loose white shirt and silky black slacks, and she was barefoot, her legs drawn up beneath her. When she turned in Sloan’s
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direction and smiled, Sloan’s heart stutter-stepped in her chest. Michael was the calm center of her universe, solid ground in the surging seas of her unrest and barely contained anger. She didn’t deserve her, and she knew it.
“Hi, baby,” Sloan said, her throat tight.
Michael patted the couch beside her. “Come sit down and tell me about your day.”
“Sorry I’m so late.”
“You don’t have a curfew. Did you eat?”
Sloan shook her head as she dropped onto the sofa next to Michael.
When Michael put her book aside and shifted to lean against her, Sloan drew her close and kissed her. “Do potato chips count?”
“I’m not answering that.” Michael stroked Sloan’s face. “There’s a plate with chicken and pasta in the kitchen. It should still be warm.”
“How was your day?”
“I asked you first,” Michael teased.
“Routine.” Sloan rested her chin against the top of Michael’s head. Michael’s hair was fragrant, her body supple, her breath warm against Sloan’s throat. Sloan saw herself stretched out in a green glade in the warm sunshine, a breeze ruffling the leaves overhead and teasing over her sweat-damp skin. She caught her breath as Michael eased her T-shirt from her jeans and slid a hand underneath. The breeze carried a hint of distant thunder now and Sloan tensed.
“Your days are never routine,” Michael murmured.
“How was yours?”
“Tiring but good.” Michael kissed the hollow of Sloan’s throat, then the side of her neck, then just below her ear. She laughed softly when Sloan shivered. “I had a nice talk with Sandy, and then I took a nap while I was waiting for you.”
“That sounds…nice.” Sloan’s voice was strained. Michael, for all her sophisticated elegance, could seduce her with the barest touch of her fingers, a mere brush of her lips. Sloan bent to her will as a seedling bends to the sun, trembling and needy. She knew with absolute certainty that all her strength was a ruse, a handful of sand that would slip through her fingers and disappear on the wind without Michael by her side. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m not tired now.” Michael pressed more tightly against Sloan, continuing to kiss the side of her jaw and her neck. She let her fingertips
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dance over Sloan’s breasts and up and down her abdomen before skating lower and streaking beneath the top of her jeans. “What, darling?” she asked, hearing a groan.
“I’m not hungry either.” Sloan clasped the back of her neck, tilting Michael’s head so she could slant her mouth across Michael’s.
Michael opened to her, and as they kissed, Sloan groaned again, lost in the seductive warmth of Michael’s mouth, a steady pulse of desire unfurling in her depths.
“You’re going to be busy with another case soon, aren’t you?”
Michael pushed Sloan down on the couch and stretched out on top of her, fitting one leg between Sloan’s thighs. She slid her hand up to cup Sloan’s breast. “With Rebecca back?”
“Work?” Sloan gasped, opening the buttons on Michael’s shirt with one hand while she caressed her ass with the other. Michael made it impossible for her to think. She was the only one who could do that.
“You want to talk about work?”
Michael kissed the tip of Sloan’s chin, then her mouth. “No. I want you all to myself for as long as I can have you.”
“I’m all yours,” Sloan whispered, never meaning anything more in her life.
v
“Babe? You want that last French fry?” Dell reached over Sandy’s prone body and scooped the fry in question from the Styrofoam container on top of the bedside table.
Beneath her, Sandy pushed her butt up firmly into Dell’s crotch.
Dell paused, her arm extended and the French fry forgotten. Sandy had nearly made her come on the ride home on her Ducati, and once they reached the apartment they shared south of Bainbridge, Sandy had finished the job. Twice. In between orgasms and takeout, Dell had reciprocated, plus an extra just because it made her feel ten feet tall to hear Sandy cry out her name when she climaxed. Now her clit was swollen and satisfyingly sore and she’d thought they were done. Or maybe not.
She dropped the French fry back in the box, let her weight settle on Sandy’s back, and then bit and sucked a spot in the curve of her shoulder until Sandy squirmed under her. “Still horny?”
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“Maybe,” Sandy murmured, her face burrowed in the pillow.
“What time is it?”
“About midnight.” Dell eased off to one side and stroked the inside of Sandy’s thigh. She cupped her sex from behind and squeezed gently, slowly circling Sandy’s clitoris with the tip of one finger. Sandy was hot and wet. For her. Lust shot through Dell like a fever and she struggled not to slide inside her right away. Sandy liked it hard and fast, but slow and teasing was good sometimes too. It’s just that Dell had a hard time keeping her head when she was excited, and Sandy always excited her. She rubbed the hard prominence at the apex of Sandy’s center and Sandy made a little sound, halfway between a whimper and a purr. Dell thought her head might explode, but she kept the pressure light and languid. Sandy’s hand clutched the pillow, and just that little movement made Dell’s clit pound. She kissed Sandy’s cheek, then the corner of her mouth. “I love you.”
“Don’t make me come,” Sandy whispered. She groped behind her, grabbing Dell’s hand when she found it. “I don’t want to come until you fuck me.”
Dell groaned, pressing her forehead to the back of Sandy’s shoulder as she ground against Sandy’s ass. She kept up the slow steady massage, careful not to push Sandy over the edge, but she couldn’t control her own runaway clit. “Fuck, babe. I’m gonna come again.”
Sandy laughed, her voice shaking. “Let it go, baby.”
“Oh man,” Dell moaned, her stomach turning somersaults as a cannon went off inside her. She panted against Sandy’s back, openmouthed and trembling like a first-timer. Beneath her, Sandy twisted, pushing Dell away until she could roll onto her back. Then she grabbed Dell’s hand and pushed it between her legs.
“You’re up, rookie,” she breathed into Dell’s ear. “Now fuck me until I come.”
And just like that, Dell felt the power surge through her. She braced herself on one arm and filled Sandy with her fingers. Then she kissed her, stroking inside her mouth to the rhythm of her thrusts between her legs. She used her thumb to work Sandy’s clit because she knew Sandy came harder that way. Distantly she felt Sandy’s hands dig into her shoulders, her nails scratching in anxious circles. Sandy tightened around her fingers, body arching into a tight bow. Dell broke their kiss so Sandy could breathe.
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“Oh God, Dell,” Sandy cried. “Baby, baby, I’m coming so hard.”
Her eyes slammed shut as her face twisted in pleasure, but Dell kept her eyes open, drinking her in, filling her mind and body with the sights and sound and sensation. Sandy was so beautiful, so open and vulnerable and trusting in that moment that Dell wanted to cry. She kept going until Sandy collapsed bonelessly onto the bed, her arms flopping out to her sides, her breath fluttering out on a long, contented moan.
Dell stopped thrusting and lightly caressed Sandy’s still turgid clitoris.
“Get your hands away from me,” Sandy muttered.
Dell laughed and kissed her nipple.
Sandy swatted at her head. “I mean it. Off. No mouth either.”
“You said you wanted—”
“Shut up, Dell.” Sandy stroked the back of Dell’s head, then yanked on her hair. “Who said you could get off by yourself like that?”
Dell leaned on her elbow and pulled the sheet up to their waists. “I can’t help it if you get me so excited I practically pop.”
“Geez, what are you? Fourteen?”
“Only where you’re concerned.”
“Better remember that,” Sandy said, her expression suddenly serious.
“I remember, babe,” Dell said just as seriously. As part of her cover, she had to hang out in strip clubs and get friendly with the working girls. Sometimes acting friendly meant getting a little physical. She’d had a hard time at first not responding to the foreplay, and Sandy knew it. It wasn’t that she wanted to get turned on by anyone except Sandy, but the adrenaline rush of being undercover coupled with the physical stimulation was arousing. “I’ve got a handle on it now.”
“Uh-huh.” Sandy wrapped one leg around the back of Dell’s thigh and curled more tightly into her embrace. “You’re not going out tonight, are you?”
“Not tonight. I have to call the guys tomorrow to set something up. Probably tomorrow night.”
“Me too,” Sandy said sleepily.
Dell wanted to argue about that, but not now. Now she just wanted to hold her. She settled against the pillow, Sandy in her arms, and closed her eyes. “Love you.”
“Yeah, me too, rookie.” Sandy sighed. “Michael offered me a job.”
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“Yeah?” Dell asked carefully, suddenly wide-awake. “What did you say?”
“That I’d think about it.”
“That’s good.” Dell’s heart did a little dance at the thought of Sandy being off the streets and tucked away somewhere safe. But the decision was Sandy’s, and Dell vowed not to push.
“Yeah, I guess.” Sandy sighed again. “I’m not so sure.”
“Go to sleep, baby. We’ll figure it out.”
“Yeah?”
Dell kissed her. “Promise.”
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ChAPTER FIvE
I didn’t know Rebecca was planning on going to work,”
Catherine said to Watts.
The doorbell had chimed at seven forty-five just as she was pouring the morning coffee. She’d rearranged her early-morning patient hours so that she could be home with Rebecca on her first day out of the hospital. Apparently, she was the only one who thought her lover needed a few days to recuperate.
“Sorry, Doc.” Watts quickly found something fascinating to study on the ceiling. “The Loo isn’t answering her pager or cell phone, so I figured I’d just swing by.”
“Her cell phone is missing. I think her pager’s in a drawer somewhere. They gave it to me at the hospital with the rest of her things.”
Except her weapon. They hadn’t given her Rebecca’s shoulder harness and gun. She imagined those were somewhere at police headquarters and, seeing Watts at the door, she was sure Rebecca would be wearing them before the day was out.
“Right. I would’ve used a landline, but I thought maybe you’d be sleeping.”
Catherine laughed wryly. “Usually I’m gone by now.” She held the door wide, glad that she was wearing a loose long-sleeved pullover and cotton pants rather than her normal sleepwear. “Come in, William.
Have some coffee. I’ll tell Rebecca you’re here.”
“I can wait in the car.” Watts halted just inside the door. “Uh…
maybe I’ll just come back—” He broke off, his attention riveted across the room.
Rebecca came downstairs into the living room, wearing faded
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chinos and an open-collared shirt, toweling her hair as she walked. She slowed when she saw Watts. “Problem?”
“Sorry, Loo. I got my signals crossed. The captain wants us in his office, and I thought…” He glanced at Catherine and started to back out onto the porch. “I’ll fill you in later.”
Catherine turned to Rebecca. “Are you going in?”
“I thought this afternoon.” Rebecca glanced at Watts. “Is it urgent?”
He held up his hands and shrugged. “Henry called me. Said he wanted us in his office first thing. I’m just the messenger, Loo. I’ll tell him I couldn’t reach you.”
“William,” Catherine said, “go get that coffee. Rebecca and I just need a few minutes.”
Watts glanced at Rebecca, who nodded, and he hurried toward the kitchen.
“It didn’t occur to me you were planning on going back to work today,” Catherine said as she walked to the far side of the living room.
She stopped in front of the French doors that opened onto the small, stone-walled backyard. Rebecca came up beside her. Catherine could smell the woodsy tang of her cologne and thought of all the nights she had gone to sleep alone with only a hint of Rebecca’s fragrance for company. She pushed the thought away. She needed to deal with now.
“I meant to talk to you about it last night,” Rebecca said, “but I fell asleep. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s not your fault. You needed to sleep.” Catherine watched the fallen leaves, only shriveled brown ghosts of their former gloriously colored selves, swirl across the gray flagstones on the small patio.
Winter was right around the corner.
“I didn’t realize you’d taken the morning off.” Rebecca brushed her fingertips across Catherine’s shoulder.
“I forgot to tell you.” Catherine shook her head. “It seems we’re both guilty of assumptions.”
Rebecca shoved a hand through her hair and made an exasperated sound. “Could we be any more civil?” She grasped Catherine’s shoulders and gently pulled her around until they were face-to-face. “I should have come straight home yesterday. Or at least I should’ve told you where I was going. It was thoughtless of me. I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you?” Catherine waved a hand. “Not the call me part,
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but why didn’t you come home? What was so important that you had to go straight from the hospital to work?”
“I’d been out of the loop for a couple of days and I had no idea what was going on with the operation,” Rebecca said, searching for the right words. “It felt like part of my life had dropped into a black hole. I just wanted to get reconnected.”
“Reconnected.” Catherine tried not to be hurt at Rebecca choosing her work over their relationship. She tried to imagine how she would feel if she were suddenly unable to go to the hospital and keep her patient appointments. She’d be concerned over not taking care of her responsibilities, and she’d be anxious until she had arranged for someone else to cover for her. But she wouldn’t feel as if a piece of her life were missing. But then, she was not Rebecca.
“You’re wrong about that,” Rebecca whispered.
“What?” Catherine asked, startled from her internal analysis.
“The job isn’t more important to me than being with you.”
And there it was—what she feared most, even though she was embarrassed to admit it. That she would never be first in anyone’s life.
That just as the child she’d been—of two people who loved her, but had loved each other more—she would always be waiting to be seen.
