by Radclyffe
“I don’t want Irina trading my officer for her sister,” Rebecca said. “Now that she’s back on the streets, she might be tempted to do that.”
Clark looked unconcerned. “She knows we can pick her up and deport her.”
“Not good enough. I want incentive for her to stay on our side. I want Witsec for her and her sister.”
Clark pursed his lips. “Witsec is expensive. It’s getting pretty selective these days, too, especially when we’re trying to persuade people to testify against terrorists.”
“Get them to make an exception. My undercover officer has to be protected.”
“I’ll look into it.”
“I want an answer soon or I’ll pull my people out.”
“Your captain won’t be happy about that. Neither will the commissioner.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
Clark studied Rebecca and whatever he saw in her face must have convinced him she wasn’t bluffing. He nodded. “I’ll get back to you.”
“So tell me about Kratos Zamora.”
“He’s a businessman. A very wealthy one.” Clark spread his hands. “And a staunch supporter of the present administration.”
“What’s your interest?”
“His family may be doing business with persons of interest to us.”
“His family? Or him?”
“That’s what I was hoping you could help us with.”
Rebecca’s internal temperature soared to just below boiling, but she didn’t move an inch. She reminded herself that just because she and Clark were supposed to be on the same side didn’t make them teammates. “Help how?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by the company they keep. And the people they do business with.”
“His business interests should be a matter of record. One thing you federal types are good at is chasing paper trails.” Clark’s expression shuttered closed, but Rebecca didn’t care if he was insulted. He wanted to use her and give nothing in return. “Besides, his brother heads the family.”
“That’s what Kratos would like us to believe,” Clark said. “We’re not so sure. That’s why we want a more personal look at him. Business gets discussed at events like this fund-raiser tomorrow night. Alliances are forged. We want to know who’s in his inner circle.”
“Why don’t you put your people on him?”
“Because he’s smart and he’s careful,” Clark said, frustration evident in his voice. “All we need is an initial legitimate business connection. Then we can insert our people and run with it.”
“I can’t help you. Sloan has plenty of connections in the private sector, but if the Zamoras don’t know about her working with us, they would soon enough.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Sloan.”
Rebecca shook her head. “Who then?”
“Innova Design is one of the biggest companies on the East Coast. And Michael Lassiter—”
“She’s a civilian,” Rebecca snapped. “She nearly died already and she’s completely untrained.”
“I don’t expect her to do undercover work,” Clark shot back. “All we need is the initial overture and then we’ll put our people inside her firm.”
“No.”
“Think about it.”
“I already have.” Rebecca rose. “And the answer is still no.”
Chapter Thirteen
Since Joyce, Catherine’s secretary, had gone to lunch, Catherine checked the waiting area herself a few minutes after one. As she expected, her special appointment was waiting. “Dellon. Hello, come on in.”
“Thanks for seeing me.” Dell followed her into the office, removed her windbreaker, and took her customary chair in front of Catherine’s desk. “The lieutenant thought we should talk.”
“What do you think?” Catherine settled into a chair facing Dellon. The first time they’d met, Dellon had sat nearly at attention in her seat, feet firmly on the floor, eyes straight ahead. Today, she was a little more relaxed, her back still not touching the chair, but her shoulders no longer rigid. In her black street clothes, with her black hair and dark eyes, she was wildly attractive. Catherine could imagine her capturing the eye of any number of females, of any age. That kind of sexual magnetism could pose a problem, especially in the kind of work she was doing.
“I think if the lieutenant thinks it’s a good idea, it is,” Dell said.
“That is a very diplomatic answer.” Catherine laughed softly. “So how are you?”
Dell grinned and interlaced her fingers, resting her hands between her thighs. “I think I’m doing okay, but…there’s a lot going on, you know?”
“I know some of the details of the operation. Why don’t you tell me how you see it.”
“The assignment’s great,” Dell said enthusiastically, filling Catherine in on the basic details. “It’s good. It’s what I want to do. I feel like…”
“Like what?” Catherine asked after a minute of silence.
“Like I’m doing something that no one else can do. ’Cause I’m really good at this undercover thing.” Dell smiled. “Well, Mitch is, anyhow.”
“Is Mitch a police officer too?” Catherine leaned closer as Dell stared. “By that, I mean does Mitch make decisions from the same set of rules and regulations that a police officer would?”
Dell frowned. “Um.”
“You know this is private, don’t you?” Catherine said gently. Dellon had matured since their first meeting. She’d filled out, metaphorically, from a heartbreakingly innocent young officer into a confident detective. Catherine was glad to see the changes, because she knew Dellon would be safer on the streets, but growth spurts like that could leave someone off balance. And that could be dangerous.“Even though your lieutenant thinks it’s a good idea that we talk, what we discuss here is between us.”
“Yes ma’am. I know that. It’s just…I never thought about it before. Mitch…yeah, Mitch is a cop. I mean, when I’m Mitch, I still think like a cop, even if I have to do things I might not do when I’m not undercover.”
“What kind of things?”
Dell stared at her hands. “The things I do with Irina. I wouldn’t do them with her, with anyone.”
“When you’re intimate.”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel guilty about it?”
Dell searched Catherine’s eyes. “Should I?”
Catherine smiled and waited.
“I don’t feel guilty about Mitch acting like Irina’s boyfriend. I mean, when you’re undercover, you have to be into it. It’s gotta be real. If it isn’t, it won’t work.”
“That makes sense,” Catherine said. “So when Mitch and Irina act like lovers—when they’re physically intimate, that feels okay.”
Dell nodded. Then after a second, she shook her head.
“Yes and no? A little of both?”
“It’s okay we kiss and fool around.” Dell slowly met Catherine’s gaze. “It’s not okay that I…want to.”
“You want to be intimate with Irina.” Catherine waited until Dell nodded again. “Do you want to make love with her?”
“Sometimes. I mean, I get turned on and part of me wants to keep going.”
“What about when you’re not actually being physically intimate with her? Do you think about making love with her when you’re not with her? Do you look forward to seeing her and hope you have a chance to have sex?”
“No.” Dell straightened her shoulders and set her feet squarely on the floor. “No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t love her.”
Catherine wanted to smile, but she kept her expression neutral. Oh, she could see this one breaking hearts everywhere she went. “So let me see if I understand. You find her physically attractive, but you’re not in love with her and you aren’t interested in having a sexual relationship with her.”
“Right,” Dell said when Catherine paused.
“But when you have to be physical with her because of the roles you’re both pl
aying, you become aroused.”
“Yes.”
“What is there about your body’s response in that situation that makes you worry?”
“I bet the lieutenant wouldn’t get turned on. I bet she’d be cool. She’s always in control.”
“Everyone is different, Dellon,” Catherine said, carefully not thinking about her lover becoming aroused with another woman. She’d have to think about it later, especially the quick surge of jealous anger the idea provoked. “Our bodies are different, our physical triggers are different. That’s neither good nor bad. It’s just a fact.”
“So you don’t think I should feel guilty about it?”
“I think when you’re working, the most important thing is that you keep your mind clear. It’s important for your safety and Irina’s that you be totally focused on the situation. If you’re worried about what you’re feeling, put that aside temporarily.” Catherine squeezed Dellon’s arm. “You can talk to me about it later, if you want to.”
“Sandy says she never got turned on when she was working,” Dell said in a low voice. “That always made me glad. I hate thinking about her touching anyone else. Having them touch her.”
“Sandy isn’t you, Dell. And what she was doing is very different than what you’re doing. There are some similarities, yes. The physical interaction with someone you don’t love—that’s the same. But there are so many differences, you can’t compare them.”
“I can tell she doesn’t like Mitch and Irina spending time together, but she’s trying to deal.”
“Are the two of you able to talk about it?”
“Some.” Dell sighed. “We’re working on it.”
“Good. That’s exactly what you need to do.” Catherine hesitated, wondering if she should talk to Rebecca, then pushed on. “If the two of you want to talk with me, you can call me.”
“Yeah?” Dell’s eyes brightened.
“Yes. There are no rules for what you’re doing, Dellon, and I think you’re doing a terrific job. Both you and Sandy.”
“Could you tell my lieutenant that?”
“Oh, I most definitely will.” Catherine stood. “Come see me next week, all right?”
“Okay, yeah. That would be good.” Dell rose and slid her hands in her pockets. Rocking back on her heels, she grinned. “I guess the lieutenant was right about me coming to see you. She’s pretty much always right.”
Catherine laughed. “Let’s not remind her of that.”
*
Watts rapped on the partially open door of the large utilitarian room with one wall of windows overlooking the docks at the Packer Avenue terminal of the Port of Philadelphia. A robust African-American woman in a spit-and-polish uniform looked up from behind a desk when he pushed the door open a few more inches.
Captain Carla Reiser smiled, her smooth mocha features relaxing, taking ten years off her already youthful face, and dropped the sheaf of papers she was studying onto the center of her desk. “Bill. Good to see you.”
“Yeah. You too.” Watts ambled a few feet into the room. “Busy?”
“Half a dozen of my dock supervisors have been arrested and I’ve got feds crawling all over my port.” Carla shrugged. “Normal day.”
Watts laughed. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”
“Social visit?” Carla’s voice held just a hint of playfulness and Watts tried not to grin like an idiot. Carla headed security for the whole port, and she’d helped orchestrate the interception of the last shipment of girls from Eastern Europe. She was sharp and savvy and smart, and he couldn’t believe his luck that a woman like her even noticed he was alive.
“You remember Jason?” Watts asked.
“The blond computer cop, right?”
“Yeah, that’s him.” Watts was foolishly pleased that she hadn’t commented on how good-looking Jason was. Everyone always referred to him as too handsome to be a man. Geez, it could give a guy a complex. “He’s up at the IT center, poking around in your computers, trying to figure out who did what and how.”
“If he finds anything, I hope he lets me know.”
“What about the feds? Are they turning up anything?”
“Who knows. If they talk to you, then you’re doing a lot better than me.”
“That’s a no, then,” Watts grunted.
Carla gestured to the worn plaid sofa pushed against one wall. “Sit down. Coffee?”
“I’ll get it. I’m up.” Watts poured coffee from the Pyrex carafe into two oversized Styrofoam cups, added powdered creamer, stirred both with one of the wooden sticks from a nearby tray, and carried the cups back to the couch. Carla had settled into one corner, and he handed her the coffee. “Light, no sugar, right?”
“Very good.”
He felt himself coloring and hastily sat down on the opposite end of the sofa. “So are you catching any heat from the arrests, or shouldn’t I ask?”
“I’m the ranking officer in charge on-site. All my superiors man desks downtown.” Carla sipped her coffee, her eyes contemplative. “They’re looking at me, but they haven’t put me on administrative leave. Yet.”
“That blows.”
Carla laughed. “It surely does.” She shifted until her knee touched his and leaned forward. “I don’t believe for a minute that those six supervisors were anywhere near the top of the food chain. Whoever was running this operation had to have international connections and some way of moving human beings and God knows what else out of this port. I want them.”
“You’re gonna have to get in line,” Watts said softly. “These guys almost killed my lieutenant.”
“I heard you had casualties. Is she okay?”
“Back on the job,” Watts said.
“Tough.”
Watts nodded. “Oh yeah.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Just clear Jason to look at anything he wants to, should anybody ask. If anyone balks at that, let us know, and we’ll look extra hard at them.” Watson set his cup on the scarred coffee table in front of the sofa. “Got any ideas where we ought to look?”
“I’ve got four warehouses and a hundred thirty loading docks at this terminal alone. We have thousands of containers offloading every month. Do we lose one for a few hours or a day because bills of lading were filled out incorrectly by someone who doesn’t even speak English ten thousand miles away? Yes. Does contraband come through inside the cars or barrels of cocoa beans or tons of clothing merchandise? Undoubtedly.” She shook her head angrily. “But people? Human beings transported across the ocean in pitch-black unvented metal coffins? If I had any idea which of my officers helped, I’d drag their sorry carcasses to you myself.”
“I guess that’s why they call those girls slaves,” Watts said. Then he thought of what he had said, and to whom. “Well fuck. Sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“No need to apologize, Bill.” Carla collected their cups and threw them into the trash. Back at her desk, she scribbled something on the back of a business card and held it out to him. “Give this to Jason. It’s my direct number. Anything he needs, tell him to call me.”
“Thanks,” Watts said, pocketing the card. “Well, I have to get back to headquarters.”
Watts was almost to the door when Carla said, “Bill.”
He turned, aware he was holding his breath.
Carla’s eyes sparkled as if she were about to laugh, and the lighthearted expression made her look welcoming and sexy at the same time. “How about dinner some night?”
“How about tomorrow?”
*
“For how long, Dell?” Sandy exclaimed, standing across the small room, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts.
Dell could almost see her quiver. She hoped with anger, not hurt. “I don’t know, babe. A few days, a week maybe.”
“Or two weeks? Or three? Maybe a month?” Sandy’s voice shook. “You want me to stay at Michael’s, in a strange bed, alone, while you’re here with Irina? Going out with her every night. Coming home wi
th her?”
Sandy looked around the room, her eyes wild. For a second, Dell thought she might be looking for something to throw. She took a cautious step forward. Then another. When Sandy wouldn’t even look at her, she kept going until she was right in front of her. Inches away. Then she very gently rested her hands on Sandy’s shoulders. Sandy still wouldn’t look at her, so she tilted her head down until their eyes could meet. “I’ll come over there whenever I can. You think I want to sleep without you?”
When Sandy didn’t answer, Dell tucked two fingers under her chin and turned her head until she was sure Sandy had focused on her. “When are you going to believe me? I love you. Like crazy. Like so much all I think about is you.”
She kissed her, letting her lips linger on Sandy’s mouth even though Sandy did not return her kiss. She brushed her lips back and forth until Sandy’s breath fluttered out on a sigh, then danced her tongue over Sandy’s lower lip until Sandy’s arms slipped around her neck. The tightness in Dell’s chest eased and she moved them backward to the sofa. Then she pulled Sandy down beside her, keeping Sandy in the curve of her arm, tight against her body.
“Why don’t you trust me?” Dell asked.
Sandy thumped her arm. “It’s not about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“It’s about me missing you.”
“You think I won’t miss you?”
“You’ll be working,” Sandy said softly, her voice muffled against Dell’s T-shirt.
Dell shifted the short soft strands of Sandy’s hair through her fingers. “I’ll always be working. That doesn’t mean I won’t be thinking about you. Jesus, San, I love you.”
Sandy sat back, her eyes searching Dell’s face. She remembered a conversation she’d had with Frye, one of those up close and personal ones she’d rather not have. Frye had said if she loved Dell she couldn’t make her crazy, because then Dell wouldn’t be thinking about work. Instead she’d be thinking about her, and she’d get hurt.
“I love you too,” Sandy told her. “I like knowing you’re coming home to me. I like coming home to you. I like it a lot.”
“Fuck.” Dell pushed her fingers through her hair. “I thought I was doing a good thing, moving you out of here. I don’t like Mitch and Irina being so close to you. I don’t know what the guys Irina has been working with will do when she hooks up with them again.”