4. Justice In The Shadows - Неизвестный

Rebecca considered it. Considered what she had seen of Sloan’s condition when Michael had been injured. Considered the effect that love, no, not just love—bone-deep need—had had on her own life since meeting Catherine. She blew out a breath. “Your word on it.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Watts will be deeply disappointed.”

Sloan raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He was hoping for a royal ass-chewing.”

“You can always fake it,” Sloan suggested with a laugh.

“Nah. He’d enjoy it too much.”

When Rebecca and Sloan walked into the conference room together, Watts craned his neck and examined Sloan from head to toe. “I don’t see any bite marks.”

“They’re there,” Sloan said quietly in passing.

Watts smiled, satisfied.

Rebecca settled into a chair at the head of the table. “Okay, Sloan. It’s your show.”

“I found a back door in Flanagan’s computer,” she said. “In simple terms, that’s a secret way into a system unknown to the user. Depending on the level of access, the intruder can remove, alter, or delete files. This user had root access.”

“That’s good?” Watts asked sharply, hating the way these discussions left him feeling like a rookie again.

Sloan shook her head. “That’s bad. At least for the person whose system has been compromised. It means that the intruder can do just about anything to the data and then alter the logs so that it’s impossible to see what he, or she, has done.”

“And you identified him?” Rebecca asked.

Sloan nodded. “I tracked the log-on data back to Henry.”

“Can you prove it’s him from what you have?” Rebecca asked sharply.

“Not yet,” Sloan admitted. “I need to go back tonight. I need to look at what Henry’s been doing. With the information I have, I can easily access his files.”

“Do it,” Rebecca said immediately. “In the meantime, we work the other angles. Sandy nabbed us a solid lead—a dancer who might be our video girl. Watts and I will look for her.” She turned to Mitchell. “I need you in those clubs, as soon as possible. We’re looking for information on an escort service that might be transporting girls to the clubs—to perform, to hook, we’re not sure. That and any word you can get for us on the video shoots.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Rebecca looked at Jason. “What kind of cover story are you going to use?”

“There is a big drag scene in DC. A place called Club Chaos on Dupont Circle is the heart of the drag king scene, and Jasmine performed with some of them there a couple of times.” Jason looked at Mitchell. “I thought we could put Mitch out as having been a bouncer at the club. That way, he won’t be expected to perform.”

Rebecca stood. “Okay. Anything breaks, I want to know.” She purposefully did not look at Sloan. “Anything.” Then she turned to Watts. “I need a couple of hours, then let’s cruise the clubs down on Delaware.”

“Sure, Sarge.” He heaved himself to his feet. “Sounds like my kinda night duty.”

Mitchell, sweating and swearing under her breath, humped the mattress up another few stairs. She looked out from under the leading edge, which was balanced on her back, at the open-toed, stack-heeled shoes and skin tight black slacks of someone standing on the third floor landing. Nice toes. Craning her neck, she looked up the length of the very sexy body into laughing eyes. Totally nice everything. Her legs got shaky and it wasn’t from the effort of carrying the mattress.

“Hiya, Sandy.”

“Hi, Dell. Whatcha doin’?”

“Moving in.”

Sandy eased down a step on the narrow staircase, grabbed one side of the mattress, and lifted. Together they dragged it the rest of the way down the dim hall and dumped it unceremoniously into the middle of the empty living room of Dell’s studio apartment.

“This is pathetic,” Sandy observed, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

“I get a hot plate in here—it will be fine.” Mitchell couldn’t look anywhere but at Sandy, so bright-eyed and fresh and oh-so-hot-sexy-kissable… Mitchell jerked at the warm touch on her hand.

“Uh-huh.” Sandy took Mitchell’s arm and tugged. “Come on. You can shower at my place.”

“I gotta go to work.”

“So do I. Come on.”

Once inside the apartment, Sandy closed the door and put both arms around Mitchell’s waist beneath her leather jacket. “I thought you’d never show up.”

Then, Sandy pressed full-body against the startled cop and kissed her, taking her time, working her way over the surface of Mitchell’s lips before slipping her tongue between them and exploring. By the time she was inside Mitchell’s mouth, sucking slowly on her tongue, Mitchell had walked them across the room to the sofa, and they fell onto it in a jumble of arms and legs. Mitchell groaned as Sandy’s hand slid up the inside of her leg and cupped her through the jeans. Sandy moaned as fingers found her nipple through the thin material of her top.

“Sandy,” Mitchell gasped. “Jesus, you’re making me crazy with that.”

“Yeah. Me, too. Do something about it, will ya?”

Do something about it, will ya? Do something…Something inside snapped. Mitchell stood abruptly on shaking legs, stripped off her jacket, and threw it behind her. Then she reached down for the bottom of Sandy’s top, curled her fingers in the thin fabric, and dragged it up and off. Swiftly, she knelt before the sofa and, with one arm around Sandy’s waist, pulled the startled young woman toward her, forcing Sandy to spread her legs on either side of Mitchell’s body. Tight between Sandy’s open thighs, Mitchell leaned forward and put her mouth to Sandy’s breast, closing around the nipple with her teeth as she caught and squeezed the other between her fingers.

Sandy gave a startled cry, drove her fingers into Mitchell’s hair, and pressed her breast harder to Mitchell’s mouth. “Oh my god. Dell.”

Mitchell was on fire. All day, the memory of being with Sandy—her smell, the softness of her skin, her surprised cries of pleasure—had simmered just below the surface of her consciousness. All day she’d wanted her, and now, now she couldn’t touch her enough.

“Dell,” Sandy gasped, tugging at Mitchell’s hair. “Dell, take your shirt off. Come on, baby…let me feel your skin.”

With her lips still around Sandy’s nipple, sucking the hard knot of flesh relentlessly, Mitchell began tearing at her clothes, pulling her shirt from her jeans, fumbling at her fly. Sandy’s hands joined hers and finally she had to release Sandy’s breast long enough to lean back and remove her shirt. In the next instant, Sandy’s hands were on her, running over her breasts and abdomen, pushing below the edge of her jeans. Everywhere, everywhere she burned.

“Sandy.” Shivering with need, Mitchell looked up into Sandy’s eyes. “I want to taste you. Please…is it okay?”

Sandy’s eyes widened. Her hands trembled as she framed Mitchell’s face. “You have…such a fabulous mouth.”

Still kneeling, Mitchell groaned as Sandy’s hands moved lower beneath the waistband of her open jeans. “Do not…go there,” she warned, her stomach board-hard with arousal as she pulled away.

“Hey!” Sandy protested.

“Be patient.” Carefully, Mitchell slid Sandy’s tight black slacks down and off, then drew her fingertips up the inside of Sandy’s smooth thighs. Sandy, heavy-lidded and breathing quickly, was propped on her elbows, watching her.

“Okay?” Mitchell’s voice was hoarse.

Sandy nodded, placing one hand behind Mitchell’s neck. “Uh-huh. Better even.”

Mitchell let Sandy guide her head down, closing her eyes as she immersed herself in the warm, wet welcome. The first kiss drew a sound of surprised pleasure, the next a long sigh, and when she carefully traced the delicate folds and firm prominences with her tongue, a sob of joy. Sandy’s fingers on the back of her head pulled her closer, and as she played the nerve bundle with her tongue, she unconsciously lowered one hand to stroke herself.

“Ohh,” Sandy gasped, jerking nearly upright, both hands on Mitchell’s head now, holding her close, just holding on. “Dell…Dell, I’m gonna come.”

Mitchell swiftly forgot her own needs, bringing both hands beneath Sandy’s hips, holding her fast as she carried her higher. Breath suspended, she followed the rise and fall of Sandy’s hips, timed her strokes to the pulse beating between her lips, and thrilled to the sensation of her lover climaxing in her mouth.

Sandy grabbed a handful of Mitchell’s hair and tugged weakly. “C’mere.” She edged one leg between Mitchell’s thighs. “Oh, you’re really wet.”

“Yeah. You make me so hot.” Mitchell turned her face to Sandy’s neck and kissed her. She wanted to come, but she never wanted the excitement to end, so she held very still, holding back. “You feel so good.”

Sandy put her mouth to Mitchell’s ear and whispered, “Come on my leg.”

The words shot through Mitchell like a bolt of lightening, triggering her nerve endings, everything going off at once. Her control shattered, and she came with a shout.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it,” Sandy soothed, stroking the length of Mitchell’s back. “You’re so sexy, Dell. God.”

“You kill me,” Mitchell mumbled.

“Mmm. I like that.” Sandy tightened her hold, feeling at once incredibly strong and incredibly vulnerable. Mitchell did scary things to her.

But when Mitchell sighed, “Yeah, me, too,” all Sandy really felt was happy.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

“Will you stop fidgeting?”

“It tickles.”

“Aww.” Sandy drew the brush along Mitch’s jaw. “I bet you didn’t give Jasmine a hard time.”

“Jasmine wasn’t standing between my legs.” Mitch shifted on the stool, and Sandy pushed closer, making Mitch gasp.

“Good thing,” Sandy muttered. “She’s way too hot.”

“Not interested.”

“Shut up, Mitch. You’ll ruin my line.” Sandy switched to a pencil and widened the already dark brows. “So, where you goin’?”

“Jasmine is taking me to the Troc. Depending on how things go, I might go out clubbing with some of the kings later. The sooner the better, Frye says.”

Sandy reached down and gently squeezed Mitch’s crotch. “Just make sure you don’t spend it anywhere else tonight.”

Mitch got wet and hard. Shit. “If I don’t get out of here soon, I’m gonna spend it right here.”

“Mmm. I can do fast.”

“I can’t.”

“Liar.” Sandy reached down between his legs again.

“Not right now, anyhow.” Mitch grabbed her hand. “Will you give me a break?”

Sandy laughed again. “No freakin’ way.” She kissed him, seriously this time, until she felt him start to rock against her, then she stepped back. “See ya later then, stud.”

“Jeez, you’re a tease.”

“Mmm, you complainin’?”

“You hear me complaining?” Mitch murmured, sliding off the stool and pulling her close. “I’m sorry I can’t stay. Man, I want to.”

“Sure. So go already, since you’re no good for anything else right now.” She kissed him one last time to soften the words.

“I’ll be good later.”

“Promises, promises.” But she was smiling as he walked out the door.

Jasmine wore figure-hugging deep red slacks, a scoop top, and a short shiny black vinyl jacket. “Sandy did a great job. You look great. Are you ready?”

“As I’m ever gonna be.”

“You okay on the background stuff we reviewed?” Jasmine hooked a hand around Mitch’s forearm as they walked. “I’ll be with you tonight, and we’ll just hang out. Tomorrow I’m performing though, so you’ll be on your own for a while then.”

“I can handle it.”

Jasmine slid her arm around Mitch’s waist as they reached the door of the club. “I have no doubt.”

Immediately inside the door a burly guy in a tight black T-shirt and black jeans stood with arms folded across his massive chest.

“Hi, Ronnie.”

“Hi, Jas.” He leaned over and delicately kissed her cheek. “You look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Ronnie, this is Mitch.”

He held out his hand. “Yo.”

“Hey,” Mitch said, shaking the huge hand which was firm but surprisingly gentle.

“Is Kennie here?” Jasmine asked.

“Sure. He’s in the lounge with a few of the other guys.”

Jasmine took Mitch’s hand. “Thanks.”

“Bye, beautiful.”

Mitch took a deep breath. Show time.

The lounge was a paneled, low-ceilinged space with a sofa, a couple of overstuffed chairs, a coffee table and a pool table. Two drag kings stood, cue sticks in hand, intently studying the lie of the balls on the faded green felt. A third sat with his booted feet propped up on the table, watching the game, a beer bottle in one hand. All three were dressed in jeans, Tshirts, and boots, and all had the smooth-faced, androgynous features so typical of drag kings. One had a small trim mustache that looked real, one had convincing sideburns, and all of them were flat-chested.

Mitch couldn’t help a quick glance at their crotches, wondering how he measured up. Nothing too obvious. Guess I’m okay there.

The seated guy rose as they walked around the pool table toward him. He was Mitch’s height and a few pounds heavier with a small tattoo, a kanji symbol from the looks of it, low on the side of his neck.

“Jasmine! Hey, didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

Jasmine dipped her head and kissed him on the mouth. “Hi, Kennie.” She tugged Mitch forward. “Ken, this is Mitch. Mitch, Ken Dewar, the troupe leader of the Front Street Kings.”

“Hey,” Ken said, extending his hand.

The drag king with the mustache snorted. “Yeah, make him sound important, why don’t ya.”

“Aww,” Jasmine soothed. “We all know how special you are, Dino.”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned. “Hiya, I’m Dino.”

“Mitch.” Mitch shook hands all around. The third guy Mitch recognized from the Front Street Kings’s website. Phil E. Pride.

“Mitch just moved up here from DC. I thought you guys could show him around.”

Ken lifted a shoulder and looked Mitch over. “You perform, Mitch?”

Mitch shook his head. “Nope. No talent. At least not on stage.”

That drew a laugh.

“What brings you up here?”

“A girl.”

Ken raised an eyebrow and glanced at Jasmine.

“Oh, not me, Ken.” Jasmine smiled sweetly. “You know I adore every one of you, but you’re way too much men for me…” They all laughed. “And I am oh so already taken.”

“I keep hoping,” Ken said.

“I’m going to go talk to some of the girls,” Jasmine said. She squeezed Mitch’s arm. “I’ll see you later, stud.”

“Okay.”

Mitch took the seat opposite Ken in one of the lumpy chairs and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I haven’t been here very long and I’m trying to get a sense of the scene. It’s tough, you know…on your own.”

“Most kings hang here, because of our shows. There’s seven of us in the troupe, and maybe that many regulars who aren’t performers.” Ken reached for his beer. “You looking for a job?”