Justice for All (38 page)

Olik flicked his hand at the muscle by the door. “Show this boy how we treat disobedient dogs in our country.”

The guy was twice Mitch’s size, but Mitch had fought big men before. The cadets at West Point only came in two sizes. Big and bigger. With men like this, there was no choice but to hit hard and hit fast. He wouldn’t get a second chance. With a leering smile, the Russian threw a looping haymaker and Mitch did exactly the opposite of what the guy expected. He stepped forward to the inside of the punch, blocked the big man’s forearm with his own, and rabbit punched him with a straight hard shot to the larynx. The Russian’s eyes bulged, he grabbed his throat with both hands, and sank to his knees. With a wet gurgling moan, he collapsed onto the dirty gray carpet.

Mitch sidestepped as he toppled. “His larynx is fractured. He’ll drown on his own blood if someone doesn’t take him to the hospital.”

The man thrashed on the floor and the front of his pants turned dark as he urinated. Olik cursed in Russian and strode to the door, yanking it open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. He snapped out something else in Russian and the man in the hall rushed in, grabbed the prone man under the arms, and dragged him out. Olik kicked the door closed and spun around.

Mitch braced for the next round. Irina appeared beside him and put her arm around his waist. Olik stopped a few feet away, his face stony.

“The girls would feel safer with Mitch on security,” Irina said. “He’s good and he’s not going to try to fuck them.”

“You’ll supervise them. Go with them on their jobs? Make sure they behave?” Olik asked.

“Da,”
Irina said.

Olik regarded Mitch. “You provide security when they travel.”

Trying to appear nonchalant although his heart was pounding, Mitch said, “When Irina’s not working, she stays with me.”

Olik nodded.

“Okay then,” Mitch said. “When do we start?”

Mitch keyed in the security code so he could park his Ducati inside Sloan’s building. When he turned around, Sandy stepped out of the alcove at the top of the stairs and headed his way.

“What are you doing out here alone?” Mitch asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s freezing.”

“I was hoping I’d get lucky.” Sandy linked her arm through his. “And I guess I did.” She tugged him into the shadows and kissed him. “Everybody’s here—upstairs rehashing tonight. I wanted to see you alone first.”

Mitch rolled the bike in next to Sloan’s Harley on the other side of the Porsche and closed the overhead doors. Then he unzipped his jacket and leaned back against his bike. Sandy took off her jacket and dropped it over the handlebars. When she kissed him again she tasted a little like liquor and smelled like fresh snow. Her skin was cold and her mouth was hot. Mitch tightened his grip and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

Sandy stroked his hair. “You okay, baby?”

“Yeah.” He spoke without looking up. Olik had seemed satisfied with the agreement Irina had made to supervise the girls, but Mitch had taken Irina back to the apartment and waited for an hour to be sure she wouldn’t have any unwanted company. They didn’t talk about what had happened in the back room of Ziggie’s. They’d both done what they’d had to do.

“Irina handle things?”

“She did fine.”

“Was there trouble?” Sandy asked.

“Some. Olik needed a little convincing that Irina and I were a package deal.” Mitch flexed his right hand and noticed for the first time that his knuckles were sore. Sandy caught the motion and grasped his wrist, drawing his hand up to the light.

“You broke some skin over your knuckles. Got any bruises anywhere else?” Sandy asked casually. She didn’t want to fuss over him because she knew he needed to believe she had total faith in him. Her fears were hers to deal with, not to lay on him.

“He never touched me,” Mitch said without much satisfaction. He’d thought he would feel better about taking one of these guys out, but he didn’t really. He’d realized as he watched the Russian flail on the floor, choking to death, that all he wanted was to put the guy behind bars. He didn’t need to deliver the punishment himself. “I hurt him pretty bad.”

“Did he come after you?”

“Yeah.”

Sandy framed Mitch’s face so she could look into his eyes. “Then you did what you needed to do. Don’t feel bad.”

Mitch smiled wryly. “I don’t. Not really.” He brushed his fingertips through the soft, short hair at her temple. “I saw you had a new boyfriend tonight.”

“Phil?” Sandy laughed. “He is so all talk.”

“Glad to hear that.” Mitch’s smile disappeared. “You okay about everything?”

“Don’t talk in code, rookie.” Sandy poked his chest. “You mean am I having a fit about Irina—who happens to be very hot in the flesh, by the way—having her hands all over you?”

Mitch nodded.

“If I said I didn’t mind, you’d know I was lying. But I’m not having a fit either.” She leaned into him, her thighs against his thighs, her belly tight against his crotch. “When I was still working, you never told me not to. You made love to me when you thought I was still hooking. You loved me even when you thought I was giving my body away.”

“Sandy,” Mitch whispered.

Sandy pressed her fingers to his mouth. “If you keep doing what you’re doing, and I guess you’re going to since Frye thinks you’re so good at it, you might have to do more than kiss a girl’s neck some night. Whether I see it, or I don’t, it’s about work. I don’t need to know the details.”

“Just so you know, it won’t happen unless there’s no other way. And…” Mitch sighed. “It won’t mean anything to me.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Sandy ran her hands down his arms, then rubbed her palms over his chest inside his jacket. “You’re pretty tight.”

Mitch shook his head. “Maybe a little. How about we check in with the lieutenant and then you can find out if I’m wearing any underwear.”

“I don’t want to be distracted in front of Frye,” Sandy whispered against Mitch’s mouth while she worked the zipper down on his fly. Mitch stiffened as she slid her hand inside his briefs and gripped his cock. “One question answered.”

“That’s as far as you better go,” Mitch said thickly. “Because we don’t have time for the rest.”

“Five minutes?”

Mitch laughed. “You know how to straighten out my head when I’m twisted around. No one else ever has.”

Sandy licked his neck. “I know how to straighten something out. Got a safe in your wallet?”

“You know I do. But I’m still not going to fuck you right now.” He gripped her hips and backed her off a few inches, then looked down at her hand inside his pants. “Jesus. You make me hot.”

“That’s more like it.” She kissed him lightly on the mouth, rearranged his clothes, and zipped his fly. “Now, let’s go to work.”

*

“Jesus Christ, Frye,” Clark barked as he held his hotel room door open a few inches. He wore boxers and a white T-shirt, and he needed a shave. “It’s five o’clock in the morning.”

“Five twenty,” Rebecca replied. “We need to talk.”

“I’ll be in the office by nine.”

When Clark tried to close the door, Rebecca wedged her foot in the opening. “This can’t wait.”

Clark looked back into the darkened room. “I’ll meet you downstairs in the coffee bar in fifteen minutes.”

“Fine.” Rebecca strolled back to the elevator, pleased that she had derailed his plans for morning wake-up sex. Since she hadn’t been to bed yet, she figured that was an even trade. She ordered coffee and settled into a booth at the back of the nearly empty restaurant.

Twenty minutes later, Clark slid in opposite her. His hair was wet, his eyes bloodshot, and his rigid posture indicated he was not a happy man.

“Coffee,” he snapped before the waitress had even reached their booth. She promptly spun around and disappeared. “What?”

“I’m getting warrants for Gregor Zamora, a priest, and half a dozen members of the Russian mob. When we make the sweep, we’re going to pick up some high-profile public figures too.” Rebecca smiled when Clark’s eyes popped.

“Why am I just hearing this now?”

“I’ve been busy.”

“I’ll talk to the U.S. attorney. My people should make the arrests.”

Rebecca shook her head. “You can have Zamora. You’ll get him one way or the other. But the rest are mine.” She pushed the coffee cup to one side. “The district attorney’s office has already been informed.”

“This isn’t what we would call cooperation, Lieutenant.”

“Sue me.”

“What about the brother?” Clark asked.

“He’s smart—doesn’t get his hands dirty. But there’s dirt on him just the same. Squeeze Gregor—you guys are good at that. Maybe he’ll roll.”

“Maybe isn’t good enough.”

“It’s a lot more than you could have gotten on your own.” Rebecca stood up. “We did all the work, and you’ll get your chance to flip someone all the way at the top of the food chain. I’ll let you know when we’re ready to move, and you can send your agents for Zamora. Then we’re done, Clark. All done.”

“We’ll see about that,” he called after her.

Rebecca didn’t bother to answer.

*

Catherine met Rebecca at the front door and held out her hand for Rebecca’s blazer. “You really need to wear an overcoat, darling.”

“You know,” Rebecca said, “that’s exactly what I need to hear right now.”

“Something ridiculously domestic?” Catherine hung the jacket in the closet, hooked her thumbs under the leather straps of Rebecca’s holster, and lifted it off. “That sounds hopelessly unromantic.”

Rebecca carried her weapon in one hand and circled Catherine’s waist as they started toward the bedroom. “Believe me, it isn’t. It’s exactly what I need to come home to.” She slowed just inside the bedroom. “I don’t suppose you could come back to bed for a while.”

“Only if you promise to go right to sleep.”

“I promised you once I’d never lie to you,” Rebecca murmured, drawing Catherine to the side of the bed. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it her from her trousers. “But despite my best intentions, I probably will fall asleep on you.”

“That’s all right. I like holding you while you’re sleeping.” Catherine worked Rebecca’s belt loose from her trousers. “How did it go with the operation?”

“Mitchell’s inside and we’re close to the endgame,” Rebecca said, shedding the rest of her clothes and climbing under the covers. The bed still held Catherine’s warmth, and she felt as if she were slipping into a sanctuary. Catherine lay down beside her, and Rebecca settled into her arms with a sigh. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“You’re here now.” Catherine kissed her. “Everything is all right with Mitch and Irina?”

“They made some heads-up plays tonight,” Rebecca mumbled. “Why?”

“Irina is necessarily very dependent on him. He’s her only chance for safety, and for having her sister returned to her. He’s her lifeline.”

“Meaning she’s likely to get attached.”

“Yes.”

“Mitchell can handle it.” Rebecca laughed quietly. “Mitchell’s in for an interesting time. Sandy wants to be a cop.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Catherine said. “Do you approve?”

“Not for me to say. But, yeah. I do. She’s got guts. And street smarts. And she’ll understand what needs to be done in ways the rest of us never will.”

“And you’ll take care of her, won’t you,” Catherine said softly.

“You mind?”

Catherine kissed Rebecca’s forehead. “No, darling. I don’t mind.”

“We know when the Russians are delivering girls to the next private party set up by the Zamoras. Mitch and Irina will be working the inside. We’re going to hit them then.”

“All I ask is that you don’t take the door. You’re not ready for that.”

“Okay. I need to be there, but I’ll let Watts take the lead. We’ll have uniform backup for this too.” Rebecca kissed Catherine’s breast. “Don’t worry. There’s not going to be trouble.”

“All right then.” Catherine stroked Rebecca’s face. “I still want to know when it’s happening. Now, close your eyes. For the next few hours, you’re just mine.”

Mitch zipped his jacket and lingered by the bedroom door, watching Sandy pull on a fake fur coat that hit right in the middle of her pert, round ass, about three inches above the bottom of her skirt. Even though she was shorter than him, her legs looked like they went on forever, slender and shapely, her toned calves tightening with each step she took in her mile-high heels.

“I wish you’d wear shoes you could run in,” he grumbled.

Sandy shot him a look. “Like no one would notice if I showed up in sneakers.”

If he had his way, she wouldn’t show up anywhere at all, but the lieutenant had called the shots. Business as usual tonight. Mitch knew it made sense not to change anything that might tip off the Russians that something was up. Even when that meant Sandy would be making the rounds at the clubs.

“Be sure to call Frye if they make contact,” Mitch said for the fifth time.