Неизвестный - 4. Justice In The Shadows

“There’s no furniture.” Sandy tugged his arm toward the door. “What are you gonna do, crash on the floor?”

“I’ll get a few things tomorrow. I won’t need that much.”

“Fuck that. You’re sleeping at my place.”

Ignoring the fact that he’d never won an argument with Sandy yet, Mitch was too tired to argue. It had been nerve-wracking being out in public with Sandy, even though they had hung out in the Tenderloin around 13th and Locust where just about anything goes. No one had seemed to pay them any attention as they’d walked around, Mitch with his arm around Sandy’s waist, her with a thumb hooked over his belt in the back. Despite their apparent anonymity, that was only part of the problem. For three hours, Sandy had been all over him, and it was driving him crazy.

She rubbed her hand up and down his back while they walked, squeezed his butt from time to time, and sidled up to him when they stopped to look in the window of a video store, her pelvis pressed to his hip, her breasts against his arm, her fingers stroking his abdomen just above his pants. When they ended the evening in a neighborhood bar because Sandy had said it would be good for them to be seen together, she’d practically climbed into his lap. All of which had left his nerves shattered and his body screaming for relief.

Much more of anything from her and he was going to come out of his skin.

“Okay, fine,” Mitch conceded as they walked down the short dingy hall and into the startling warm oasis of Sandy’s apartment. “I’ll crash on your floor. At least it’s clean.”

Sandy regarded him steadily. “You can sleep with me.”

“I can’t.” Mitch’s voice was low, nearly mournful.

“Why not?”

“Sandy, for God’s sake.” Jesus, she never makes anything easy. “I’m gay.”

“No foolin’.” Sandy’s smile when she looked back at the handsome drag king was oddly tender. “So? Can’t you be good?”

“Usually.” Mitchell blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing at the restraining ace on her chest. I want you to touch me so bad. If you’re next to me… “But not tonight. I’m so wound up…I…I just don’t think I can.”

“Well, I’m not worried, Dell.” Sandy took a step closer, which in the tiny room brought them within touching distance. “And I’m not scared.”

Mitchell’s heart tripled-timed. “Well, I am.”

“Does that hurt?” Sandy asked with concern, pointing to Mitchell’s chest. “You’ve been rubbing it.”

“Itches.”

Sandy took Mitchell’s hand. “Come over here and sit down.”

“Sandy…”

“Be quiet, Dell,” Sandy said as she put both hands on Mitchell’s shoulders and gently forced her down on the edge of the sofa bed. Then she knelt between Mitchell’s legs and reached for the bottom of the white T-shirt. Her belly brushed the leather between Mitchell’s thighs.

“I’m so turned on,” Mitchell confessed in a whisper. “You’re making me so nuts, I can’t stand it.”

“Good.”

When Sandy pulled the shirt from her pants, Mitchell closed her eyes and leaned back on her elbows, unable to do anything but surrender. Her stomach was in knots, her skin on fire, her clitoris full and hard and pounding. Whatever this was, whatever this wasn’t—no matter what anyone said—she needed it. Needed Sandy’s small hands on her, needed that warm mouth…

“Oh Jesus,” Mitchell moaned as Sandy leaned forward and kissed her abdomen. “Your lips are so soft.”

“Mmm, so’s your skin,” Sandy murmured, licking a circle around the tight navel. Her breasts rested against Mitchell’s fly, and she rubbed them back and forth slowly as she worked her lips over the taut muscles. “You taste good.”

The weight of Sandy’s body pressing into Mitchell’s crotch forced the firm form in her pants harder against her straining flesh. Discomfort became acute stimulation, and her clitoris twitched with warning spasms.

“Wait…wait a second,” Mitchell uttered in desperation, one hand cradling Sandy’s cheek, the other reaching for the fly of her leathers. “Let me get this out of here.”

Sandy grasped her hand and looked up. “Leave it for a little while. It’s sexy.”

Mitchell blushed and met Sandy’s eyes. “It’s not…it won’t work.”

“I don’t need it to work, idiot.” Sandy pulled the T-shirt over Mitchell’s head and reached for the tape holding the ace wrap in place. “I know who you are, Dell.”

Mitchell looked down as Sandy carefully released her breasts, the blond head bent over her naked flesh. With trembling fingers, Mitchell stroked Sandy’s cheek, then ran her thumb over the full pink lips. Sandy bit the tip of her thumb, and her thighs tightened. When Sandy brushed her fingers over Mitchell’s nipples, she tensed and cried out.

Sandy’s breath came faster, her hands shaking as she flattened her palms over the small firm breasts, massaging them gently. Moaning in surprise, she felt herself get wet. She hadn’t really expected that. All night she’d told herself she was just playing with Mitch to get him used to being treated like a guy. But she’d enjoyed it—more than enjoyed it. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d been hot all night. And she wanted Dell now, wanted her the way she hadn’t thought herself capable of wanting anyone—not this way, not in her body, in her blood. “Oh yeah, you feel so fucking good.”

Through eyes gone dim with arousal, Mitchell watched Sandy suck a hard nipple into her mouth, and the sight and sensation drove her close to the edge. Whimpering faintly, dangling on the brink of exploding, Mitchell turned her head and sought Sandy’s gaze. “Please, Sandy…please.”

“Mmm,” Sandy murmured, leaning close. “You are so sexy when you’re hot, you know that? I wanna keep you this way for a while.”

“I’m gonna die…” Mitchell ached for the feel of skin against her skin, for Sandy’s flesh beneath her hands.

They both jerked as a shrill ring pierced the room. Mitchell stiffened as Sandy cursed.

“Mother fucker.”

“What is it?” Mitchell asked, her stomach so tight with unrequited need she thought she’d be sick.

“My phone.” Sandy’s voice was wild.

“Ignore it, okay.” Mitchell drew Sandy’s hand down to her fly and pressed her fingers to the swelling there. She whimpered; she couldn’t help it. “Please.”

The sound shrilled again.

“No—it’s my phone. Jesus Christ.” Sandy was having trouble thinking clearly. She was so excited her brain was mush. “Frye’s phone. That’s her calling.”

Mitchell went cold.

The phone rang a third time and Sandy lunged for her purse. “Yeah, what?”

“How you doin’, Sandy?”

“Peachy.” Sandy glared at Mitchell who had sat up and was pulling on her T-shirt in quick angry motions.

“Did you get Mitchell squared away?”

“Yeah.” Sandy laughed without humor. Oh yeah, I took care of her all right. Fuck.

“I still need the street Intel on those filmmakers.”

“Okay. When?”

“How about right now.”

Sandy panicked. “You can’t come up here.”

“I wasn’t going to.” A beat of silence. “What’s the matter? You got someone up there with you?”

Oh no, just Dell with a hard-on and pissed as hell. Jesus, she’d probably go for your throat right now. Sandy made a fast decision. “A john.”

“That wasn’t the deal. You work for me, you don’t turn tricks.”

“Look, I’ll meet you right now.”

Another pause. “Okay. Meet me at Woody’s, in the back room.”

Sandy closed the phone and faced Mitchell. “I have to go out.”

“She calls and you jump? She that good?”

“You’re a jerk.” Sandy gathered her small purse and headed for the door.

“Take my jacket.”

Sandy pulled a tiny royal blue satin zip-up top from the coat tree by her door and slipped it on. “Don’t you know by now that they don’t buy what they can’t see?”

Mitchell paled. “Sandy…”

But she was talking to a closed door.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Sandy threaded her way through the crowd clustered around the bar for last call and walked into the dark recesses of the rear. She dropped into the seat across from Frye at a tiny back table. “Funny place for a meeting, unless you’re looking to get laid. You looking for some action? Cause I’m free now, thanks to you.”

Rebecca ignored the taunts. Sandy’s anger was one thing she counted on, and she had a feeling it was a big part of what kept Sandy from being swallowed by the street. “You get rid of your visitor?”

“What do you think? I left him at my place?” Sandy ried not to think about where Mitchell had gone, what she was doing, who she might be with. “You gonna be calling all the time now? It cramps my style.”

“You’re not supposed to have a style any longer, remember?” Every night as she drove the streets, Rebecca watched the young girls sell their bodies to survive, knowing there was nothing she could do to change their fates. She tried, and would probably keep trying—scanning the faces, looking for likenesses to the blurred images on the missing persons bulletins, taking those she could convince to leave the life to shelters or women centers—but it was a never-ending battle doomed to failure. Every day there were more of them. Why Sandy meant more to her that any of the others, she couldn’t say. “I have an investment in you, and I expect you to take care of yourself.”

“I’ve managed just fine so far.”

“Yeah—that new scar on your forehead is proof of that. Someone beat the living hell out of you, didn’t they?”

“It was nothing. I could have handled that even if Dell—” Sandy clamped her jaws shut. Shit!

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “What does Mitchell have to do with it?”

“Nothing.”

“Her life is on the line now, Sandy. Don’t fuck with me, I don’t have time.” Rebecca’s tone was harsh, not with anger, but worry. What in hell have I missed?

“A guy was roughing me up. Dell stopped him.”

“Stopped him how?”

“Like cops do—she took the fucker down and arrested him. She got into trouble for it, too—because she pulled her gun and got rough or something.”

And the pieces tumbled into place. Mitchell on suspension. Mitchell undergoing counseling—mandatory in situations like that. Catherine and Mitchell—Catherine who must know all about it. How much hasn’t Catherine told me?

“Okay,” Rebecca said quietly. “So let’s talk business. I need you to find an Asian girl named Lucy.”

“Lucy what?”

“No last name—she’s about sixteen, and she might work for Angel Rivera.”

“Angel’s a mean pimp.” Sandy’s eyes grew hard. “He hooks his girls on smack to keep them working.”

“I know that,” Rebecca said, her anger barely contained. And I’d love to put him away, or kick the crap out of him, but he always manages to slip through some crack in the system. “I tried showing the picture of the girl from the video around Chinatown. I thought maybe she was a runway and someone might know her.” Four hours in and out of every bodega and restaurant in a ten-block area and one slim lead to show for it. “No one knew her, but someone said they thought maybe she was a friend of this Lucy.”

“That’s kinda thin, don’t you think?”

“It’s what I’ve got.” Roberta looked at her watch. “Where’s Mitchell now?”

That twist of pain was unexpected and Sandy jerked involuntarily. To cover her surprise, she laughed harshly. “How should I know? You’re the one told me to stay away from her, remember?”

“Things have changed.” Rebecca leaned forward intently. “She’s good, but she’s a novice. I need you to watch her back.”

“So what do you want me to do? Move in with her?”

“If you have to.”

Sandy stood. “You know something, Frye? You use people.”

Rebecca made no reply and Sandy walked away.

You use people.

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, although not quite as honestly as Sandy put it. Jill had complained that Rebecca put the job first and gave her what was left. Which was never enough. Rebecca thought of Catherine, and how much she needed her. How she so often came to Catherine, weary and drained, and let Catherine comfort her with her body and her tender soul. I use her, too.

Catherine rarely slept deeply when Rebecca was working. She rolled over and opened her eyes, having been roused by a soft noise in the darkened room.

“Rebecca?”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be quiet.” Rebecca padded across the floor, slipped naked into bed, and buried her face in the sweet softness of her hair.

“Everything all right?”

“Mmm. I love you so much.”

Catherine heard the faint catch in her lover’s voice. “Darling? Did something happen?”

“No, I’m just beat.” Rebecca took a long breath. She wasn’t going to burden Catherine with more of her guilt.

Catherine hesitated, knowing there was more. She always knew. She kissed Rebecca’s forehead, then her eyelids, then finally her mouth. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Catherine,” Rebecca whispered. I need you so much. I don’t know if I could keep going…

“What, darling?”

“I…you’re the best thing in my life. The most important thing.” Rebecca smoothed her fingers over Catherine’s cheek, along her neck, and then lowered her head to kiss Catherine’s breast just above her heart. “I just want you to know that.”

“I love you.” Catherine held Rebecca tightly, letting that be enough.

Michael rose carefully. The clock read five-thirty. The side of the bed where Sloan had lain was cold.

She went into the bathroom, splashed cold water on her face, then looked into the mirror for the first time since the accident. She blinked, drew a shaky breath, blinked again.

Thank god Sarah washed my hair because the rest of me is a fright.

With horrific clarity, she abruptly recalled the conversation with Sarah.

Car accident…skull fracture…broken ribs…bruised kidney.

Someone had tried to kill Sloan, and she had been hurt instead.

“My God…”

Michael made her way carefully to the guest room at the opposite end of the loft and halted at the door. “Sarah?”

A light came on, and Sarah was instantly by her side.

“Michael? What is it? Are you sick?”

“Where’s Sloan?”

“I…what?” Sarah took Michael’s hand. “You should go back to bed. You’re white as a sheet.”

Michael looked beyond Sarah to Jason, who was just tying his sweat pants. “Where is she, Jason?”

He looked helplessly at Michael. “She said she was going to check on some data for Rebecca.”

“You left her alone?” Michael’s voice rose with anger and fear. “What were you thinking? Someone tried to kill her.” Michael’s vision dimmed and a wave of pain rolled through her head and flooded her consciousness. She swayed and Sarah grabbed her arm.

“Michael. Sit down.”

“I’m fine.” Nevertheless, Michael allowed Sarah to lead her to the bed. “I’m sorry.” She lifted anguished eyes to Sarah and Jason, who stood side by side a few feet away, both looking distraught.