Justice Served Part 38

Michael stood in the doorway of the spare bedroom and watched Sloan remove a small walnut chest from the top shelf of the closet. The expression on her lover's face as she keyed the lock was one that Michael did not think she had ever seen before.

Fierce concentration, which was not at all unusual, was underlain with what appeared to be grim determination. That hardness in Sloan's rigid pro le produced a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Sloan looked dangerous, and cold.

Remaining silent, she saw Sloan remove rst a soft, brown leather holster and then an enormous automatic handgun. At least to Michael the gun appeared enormous, because of what it signi ed.

"Sloan?" Michael asked quietly.

Turning, the weapon in her hand, Sloan met Michael's inquiring gaze. "It's okay."

"I don't see how it can be, if you're doing something that requires that."

"It's just a precaution. I'm going to ride backup with Rebecca later tonight, and I ought to be armed. I won't be much use to her in an emergency if I'm not." Sloan smiled and clipped the holster to the back of her belt, then slipped the automatic into it and out of sight.

"I'm licensed to carry it." She slipped a slim leather folder from her rear pocket and ipped it open to display the laminated photo ID badge that Clark had provided her when she'd rst agreed to investigate the Internet p.o.r.nography ring. "And I've got my federal credentials to prove it. Just procedure. Nothing to worry about."

The logic was faultless, as Sloan's logic always was, but Michael knew that beneath that una.s.sailable rationality seethed a host of volatile emotions that had yet to be a.s.suaged. She could feel the cold hand of * 257 *

RADCLY fFE Sloan's icy fury from across the room. "If he is there somewhere, you have to promise me you won't do anything. Nothing at all."

There was no need to de ne who he was, because they both knew. Sloan had related some of the smuggling story to Michael, and it seemed only reasonable to her that the man who had nearly killed her in the misdirected murder attempt on Sloan might be one of the bodyguards who ferried the young smuggling victims from destination to destination. And if that were the case, Sloan was likely to come across him in the course of the surveillance or subsequent arrests.

Michael did not want her lover anywhere near that man when she was carrying a gun.

"Not a problem," Sloan a.s.sured smoothly. But the hard edge in her eyes remained.

Shaking her head, Michael crossed the room and settled her arms around Sloan's neck. She was close enough to kiss her, but she did not. Instead, she studied the depths of Sloan's violet eyes, a.s.sessing their ever-changing emotional landscape. "Even if you were able to get away with taking revenge on whoever's responsible for putting me in the hospital, you're not that kind of person at heart. It would take something from you. Destroy something in you." As Sloan began to protest, Michael shook her head again. "I need all of you. I need you."

Sloan made a strangled sound in her throat and buried her face in Michael's hair, holding her close, swaying as she stood with Michael in her arms. "If you knew how it felt when I thought I'd lost you...oh Jesus..."

"You didn't and you won't." Michael thrust her hands into Sloan's hair and tilted her head back, forcing Sloan to accept the truth in her eyes. "I love you and I will not leave you. You have to promise me the same. You have to take care of yourself." She touched her ngertips to a spot above Sloan's breast, over her heart. "Here. Here where I need you so."

"I promise," Sloan said, her voice hoa.r.s.e. "I promised you before, and I'll keep my promise. I won't do anything to hurt you."

"Be sure that you don't let anyone else hurt you either," Michael whispered, her ngers still buried in Sloan's hair. She brought her mouth down on her lover's, tasting her, taking her time and kissing her thoroughly until she was sure that she was all Sloan could feel. Then, reluctantly, she relinquished Sloan's mouth. "I love you."

* 258 *

Justice Served Sloan closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Michael's. The anger had dulled, muted by the much more powerful force of what they shared. "Don't worry. I won't let anything touch what we have."

"Nothing ever could, darling," Michael murmured, and kissed her again. "Take good care of yourself tonight. I'll see you when you come home."

v Sandy answered the knock at the door and opened it wide to admit Rebecca.

"Hiya, Sandy," Rebecca said, casting a quick glance around the small studio apartment. It was as neat as she remembered it from the one time she had been there before. The small sofa bed, closed and covered with colorful throw pillows, the slightly scratched coffee table in front of it, and the sparkling clean kitchenette off to one side.

"Hi," Sandy replied with no hint of warmth.

"Mitch.e.l.l ready?"

Sandy crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head toward the bathroom. "Just about."

Rebecca walked to the coffee table and deposited the small canvas gym bag she carried in one hand. Squatting, she unzipped it and removed the contents, lining up the equipment she would need in a neat row. She looked up to the sound of the bathroom door opening.

Mitch.e.l.l-Mitch-approached in tight, faded blue jeans and a torso-hugging black T-shirt. His chest was at, his face long and square jawed, his crotch obviously but not ostentatiously full. Had she not known differently, Rebecca would've thought him to be a young man of twenty. "The transmitter's about the size of a deck of playing cards, a little bit thinner. Do you have room for it anywhere?"

"Where's the best spot?" Mitch inquired, sliding his hands into his front pockets.

"Most guys will wear it down the back of their pants, maybe on their back, or occasionally in their crotch."

Mitch's lips twitched, and he unconsciously brushed the bulge beneath his y. "No room there."

"I gathered," Rebecca said dryly. She stood, the transmitter in her * 259 *

RADCLY fFE right hand with the attached wires dangling. "Where's Irina least likely to touch you?"

"Uh..." Mitch sidled a glance at Sandy, who remained motionless, her face set and her eyes rmly on his face. "Probably my back."

Sandy snorted. Rebecca seemed not to notice.

"Okay, then, pull your shirt out and turn around," Rebecca instructed. When Mitch hiked up his T-shirt, Rebecca saw the thin wrap encircling his torso. "I think if I tape it under the lower edge of the chest wrap, that'll camou age the shape enough to hide it, especially with the T-shirt over it."

"Okay," Mitch said, holding still as Rebecca worked. "What'll I do if she wants to take me back to her place tonight?"

"Stall her."

"What if I can't?"

"You'll have to gure out a way. We're not prepared for a takedown tonight, and I don't want you getting into a situation where I can't extract you quickly."

"Yeah, but..."

"If she keeps after you," Sandy said quietly, "make her come right there in the bar, but don't f.u.c.k her. Tell her you're saving that for special."

Mitch blushed, and sweat broke out over his entire body.

"Jesus," Rebecca complained. "I can't get the tape to stick to you like this." She turned to Sandy. "Can you get me a towel?"

"Sure."

"She's going to kill me before this is over," Mitch said when Sandy disappeared into the bathroom.

"She'll be okay," Rebecca replied. "Just remember who you are and why you're there. Do what you need to do, and then you leave it there."

Sandy held out the towel, giving no indication that she'd heard Rebecca's words, but her angry expression had softened. "It would be kinda nice if you all made sure that Mitch's a.s.s doesn't get hung out to dry."

"Sandy-" Mitch started to protest.

"He'll be ne. We'll be monitoring everything that happens from now on." Rebecca pressed the last strip of adhesive into place and rearranged the chest wrap over it, smoothing out the wrinkles with * 260 *

Justice Served her hand. "Tuck your shirt in." She waited until Mitch complied and then walked around him, eyeing his back critically. "In dim lighting, that's not going to show. Just make sure she doesn't get her hands back there."

"That's not where she's going to be putting her hands," Sandy commented.

Mitch groaned softly and gave Sandy a beseeching look.

A icker of amus.e.m.e.nt pa.s.sed over Rebecca's face as she clapped Mitch on the shoulder. "Sloan's downstairs in the car. I'm going down to test the audio feed with her. It's a one-way transmission, so you're not going to know that we're on the line. But we'll be there."

"Yes, ma'am," Mitch said with absolute certainty. "By the way, I'm wearing an ankle holster."

Rebecca nodded as she repacked the duffel bag. "Good. That's something a guy like Mitch might do, so if anyone notices it at all, just say you've had some trouble and want to be prepared."

At the door, she added, "If I don't call up, it means we're reading you with no problem. Remember, all we want tonight is for you to reestablish contact with Irina and convince her that you want to spend time alone with her where she lives. Following her to the stash house won't be enough-we need you inside to give us some idea of the occupancy, the layout, and the number and position of the guards. We de nitely don't need a hostage situation when we get ready to take the place, so we're going to want to go for the guards rst." She xed Mitch with a rm stare. "Your job is intelligence. You're our eyes, okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

v Mitch had the sense that someone was watching him. He set his bottle on the bar top and eased off the stool. Taking his time, he made his way to the back hallway that led to the restrooms and whatever else lay hidden in the bowels of the building. She was there, in the shadows.

"Hi," Mitch said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. At the far end of the corridor he could see a ickering neon sign that said Exit.

He knew there were other rooms opening onto the hallway, but for the moment, they seemed to be alone.

* 261 *

RADCLY fFE "h.e.l.lo, new boy," Irina purred, placing her palm in the center of his chest as she leaned close to kiss him lightly on the mouth. "Back again."

Mitch slipped one arm around her waist and drew her against him.

Tonight she wore some kind of dark red satiny slacks that hugged her voluptuous gure and a blouse that was more of a hint than a reality.

It was so sheer he could see the lace of the imsy cups that barely contained her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and the dark hue of nipple beneath. As she moved into him, she parted her thighs and settled into his crotch with his denim-encased c.o.c.k neatly nestled between her legs. This time, he was prepared for the sudden surge of pressure, and when he b.u.mped his pelvis into her, it was Irina who gasped. "I told you I would be here. I was afraid you weren't."

She stroked a ngertip along his jaw. "I am always here."

For a second, Mitch considered questioning her, trying to get some information about the girls, but then he realized she would be on the lookout for that kind of questioning, no matter how subtle. He couldn't afford to make her suspicious of him now. Instead, he nuzzled her neck and brushed his mouth over her ear. "You must go home sometime."

Laughing, she tilted her head back and allowed him her neck.

"Not until all the little boys have gone home happy."

While he sucked the pale esh of her throat, Mitch dropped his hand from her waist to her b.u.t.tocks and kneaded the rm esh. He circled his crotch against hers and moved his mouth back to her ear.

"What about the big boys?"

"You are very...smooth, new boy." She was breathing a little faster as she kissed him again, teasing her tongue along the inner surface of his lips, darting into his mouth and out again. Just as she drew away she nipped at his lower lip. "Mitch. You taste good, Mitch."

"You feel good." As they spoke, Mitch was aware of the transmitter on his back and tried not to think about his lieutenant and Sloan listening to this conversation. He had a eeting instant of grat.i.tude that it wasn't Watts monitoring the wire. "I want to make you feel a whole lot better."

"I don't know why," Irina mused as she edged a hand between them and cupped the swelling tucked in Mitch's jeans. "But I believe you."

"Maybe," Mitch said, ignoring the practiced stimulation that she * 262 *

Justice Served so effortlessly delivered, "because the other guys are just thinking about getting off." He lightly teased an erect nipple through the imsy layers of material, icking it with a ngertip as he kept his eyes on her face.

When he saw her lids utter, he caught the hard peak in his ngers and squeezed. She moaned, and he squeezed again. "But remember what I said last night. I want to make you come."

"Do the other one," she whispered, her voice tight and urgent.

Her eyes were nearly closed, her hips rolling rhythmically against him.

When he started on her other nipple, working them both to the same rhythm, she forced her lids open and gazed at him through a haze of pleasure. "Did you make yourself come last night, thinking of me?"

Despite the icy control he kept over his own physical responses, he tightened deep inside at the words. Beneath the c.o.c.k, his hard s.e.x ached. Hoa.r.s.ely, he said, "Oh yeah. All night long."

"I imagined you f.u.c.king me, new boy." Irina smiled, her lips swollen and moist. "Until I came, screaming."

Mitch kissed her, one hand on her a.s.s, the other tangled in her hair.

He held her head while he plundered her mouth, until she was shaking in his arms and he knew she was his for the taking. He pulled his head away, breathing hard. "I want to f.u.c.k you 'til you scream. But not here.

Take me home."

She shook her head.

He spun her to the wall and pinned both of her arms against it with his hands around her wrists. He pushed his c.o.c.k hard between her thighs, his lean hips between her spread legs, and he pumped into her while he took her mouth again. He worked his c.o.c.k against her until she whimpered and writhed beneath him, then he pulled back, his own chest heaving. "Take me home so I can give you what you want. What I want."

"I..." Her eyes were glazed, her mouth bruised, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s swollen-hard nipples exposed beneath the see-through material. "I..."

She took a long shuddering breath and her eyes nally focused. "There are others there. I cannot."

"Then I'll take you somewhere else. A hotel."

"No. I must stay there. I...cannot leave."

He jerked one of her hands down the wall and thrust it between his legs, squeezing her ngers around his c.o.c.k. "Feel me. You know * 263 *

RADCLY fFE you want this." He dropped his forehead to hers, shivering as she automatically started to jack him off. "Please, Irina. Please. Please."

"After," she whispered urgently. "You come after they are asleep."

"When? Where?" Mitch knew he sounded desperate, because he was. He had to get her hands off him, because there was only so much stimulation he could take.

"I will tell you when." Then she pushed him abruptly away. "You just be here, new boy."

Mitch sagged against the wall and watched her disappear into the darkness at the end of the hall. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and worked on quieting the storm she had stirred. When he thought he could walk without stumbling, he returned to the bar and signaled to Jasmine that he was leaving.

Five minutes later, Jasmine met him at the car, and they drove six blocks in silence before pulling to the curb. A dark Ford Escort pulled in behind them, and Rebecca walked up to the driver's side. She peered through the open window at Jasmine and Mitch.

"Everything okay?" Rebecca asked, her gaze xed on Mitch.