by Radclyffe
Across the room, Irina sat up, watching her intently.
“I’m on Spring Garden. I’m meeting up with a girl who’s going to a party with some Russian guys.”
“No!” Dell exploded. “Do not go. You hear me? Do not go.”
“It’s just a party, baby. I won’t do anything, I promise.”
“I’m not talking about that. It’s not about that. God damn it, Sandy. It’s not safe.”
“I’ve been to a hundred of these things, baby. I know how to handle myself with party boys.”
“These are not just good-time guys. These are—”
“I can’t let her go alone.”
“Yes, you can! Yes, you fucking can! She’s not your responsibility.” Dell turned in a fast hard circle. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know if she should run out the door and jump on her bike or if she should call Frye. What she wanted to do was crawl through the phone and shake Sandy until her teeth rattled.
“I’ll call you when I get there, okay? I’ll go to the bathroom or something and call you. I’ll be okay.”
“Sandy, please don’t do this. San—”
“I’ll call you, baby.”
Dell was left staring at the silent phone. The helpless feeling was so overwhelming she almost threw it across the room. For a second, she didn’t know what to do. “Jesus. Jesus Jesus Jesus.”
“Tell me what she said.”
Dell focused on Irina and her training kicked in. She held up a hand and punched in Frye’s number on her speed dial. Then she held her breath and counted. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Four ri—
“Frye.” The lieutenant sounded hoarse and a little breathless, as if she were out running. Maybe she was.
“It’s Mitchell. Sandy’s gone off to a party with some Russians.”
“When?”
“Now. She just called me from Spring Garden.”
“Where on Spring Garden?”
Dell closed her eyes, wondering what the fuck kind of cop she was anyhow. “I don’t know. Jesus, I—”
“Tell me exactly what she said.”
Frye’s voice was calm and steady and Dell felt herself settle. She relayed the conversation, what little there had been of it.
“Where are you now?”
“In Queen Village. At Mitch’s apartment with Irina.” Dell checked her watch. Half past midnight. “Should I call her back?”
“No. She might already be with them. I’ll raise Watts and we’ll pick you up. If she calls in the meantime, find out where she is and call me back.”
“Okay.” Dell took a full breath, the first one in what felt like a long time, and her brain seemed to click into gear. “Maybe Irina knows something that can help us.”
“Good idea. Stay put. I’ll be right there.”
“Yes ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.” Dell disconnected and shoved the phone back into her jacket pocket. “Do you know where they take the girls to party?”
“There are a few places. Hotels, usually.”
“Names. Can you tell me names?” Dell searched through her jacket and came up with a takeout receipt. “Pencil? Pen?”
Irina found her bag, fumbled in it for a few seconds, and handed Dell a ballpoint pen. “I am not sure of all the names. I had no reason to look at them. This is your girlfriend?”
Dell clenched her jaw and nodded. “Just tell me anything you can remember.”
“They are not going to hurt her, Mitch. They don’t hurt the girls. They need them. As long as they think she is just there for them to use, she will be fine.”
“Fine.” The word felt like ashes on Dell’s tongue. As long as Sandy let them use her, she would be fine. But Dell knew Sandy, and even when she was still hooking to survive, Sandy never let anyone use her. Christ, she had to find her. “Whatever you can remember.”
*
“I’m sorry about this,” Rebecca said, pulling on a pair of jeans.
“It’s all right. Is Sandy in trouble?” Catherine got out of bed and found a pair of silk pajamas. She handed Rebecca a black pullover that Rebecca shrugged on without even looking at it.
“Hopefully not. She could be with some college guys who are just looking for a few girls to liven up their weekend in town. I don’t have much information.” Rebecca opened the bedside drawer and pulled out her weapon and shoulder harness. “God damn it. What the hell was she thinking?”
“I imagine she’s thinking that she’s doing her job.”
Rebecca stopped moving. “Her job?”
“She is your CI still, isn’t she? You pay her to find out things. To talk to people who won’t talk to anyone else. To go places no one else can go.”
“I don’t pay her to put herself in danger.” Rebecca realized as soon as she spoke that it was bullshit. Every time she asked Sandy to pump her sources for information, she was asking her to take a risk. If someone got suspicious and made her as an informant, Sandy wouldn’t live long. “Ah, hell. You think I’m wrong, don’t you, for using her.”
Catherine sighed. “Rebecca, I wish many things in this world were different. I wish Sandy had never had to sell her body to survive. I wish there weren’t men who use the misfortune of girls like her for their own pleasure. I wish you didn’t have to put the people you care about in danger to stop evil. We live with what we must, and you do what you must. You are not using her. Sandy is far too strong for that. Remember, she’s very resourceful. And very, very bright.”
Rebecca sat down on the bed next to Catherine and took her hand. “You help me see things in ways I never have before. You don’t excuse me, and that’s okay. But you understand me, and that…that means everything to me.”
Catherine took Rebecca’s face in her hands and kissed her. “I love you. If you didn’t see the world the way you do, you wouldn’t be so good at your job. And you need to be good at your job to keep yourself and the others safe. And to do what’s right.” She brushed her fingers through Rebecca’s hair. “Go now. Be careful.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Rebecca kissed her swiftly and disappeared into the night, again.
*
Sandy made it to the corner of Spring Garden and Vine just as a Lincoln Navigator with blacked-out windows veered out of traffic and shot to the curb where Darla leaned against a signpost. Like Sandy, she wore a miniskirt that hit just below the crease of her ass, although her skirt was shiny red vinyl and Sandy’s was a black stretchy material. They both wore cheap, skimpy jackets with oversized zippers and not much else underneath.
Darla waved to Sandy, relief showing on her face in the light of the street lamp just above them. The back door of the Navigator swung open and a man stepped out. He wore dark slacks, a black leather jacket, and sunglasses, which was weird, because it was the middle of the night. He didn’t look like a college boy. He looked exactly like what Sandy figured he was. A thug, probably a pimp. Not the ordinary kind of pimp who provided girls shelter and protection, ha ha, in exchange for the money they earned on their knees and their backs. No, this guy looked like he worked for some man who didn’t want to get his hands dirty, so he sent his men out to get what he wanted. And apparently, he wanted pussy.
“Hi,” Sandy said, swinging her ass as she hurried toward Darla. She hooked her arm through Darla’s and kissed her cheek. Then she tossed her head and smiled at the man who stood watching them. “Are these our dates, honey?”
“I guess,” Darla said, looking a little uncertain.
Sandy figured this wasn’t the guy Darla had talked to in the parking lot at the Fist. Guys like the ones in the Navigator didn’t troll the streets for what they wanted. They had someone else do it. She tried to get a look at the rear of the car as she and Darla walked over, but she couldn’t see the license plate.
“Who’s your friend,” the man said to Darla in crisp English. He had an accent, but his speech was polished.
“This is—”
“Samantha,” Sandy said quickly, cocking her hips to give him
a good look at her legs as the skirt pulled up almost to her crotch. “But everyone calls me Sam. Darla says we’re going to a party. I can’t wait. I love parties.”
He looked them over for a long minute, then stepped aside and gestured to the rear of the SUV. Sandy looked down the street, but she didn’t see Dell’s motorcycle or anything resembling a cop car. Used to be Frye showed up in her Corvette, but lately she’d been in a standard issue. There was no sign of an unmarked. Which meant no one was going to know where they went. She took Darla’s hand. “Well, come on, honey. Let’s party!”
Sandy slid into the backseat where another man waited on the far side and Darla crowded next to her, as if seeking shelter. Then the door closed and the Navigator pulled out and headed north. Sandy tried to get a look out the window around the big guy sitting next to her, but all she could see was the sign pointing to the on-ramp to 95 North.
They could be anywhere from Trenton to New York City in an hour.
*
Michael reached out in the dark and switched on the bedside light when she felt Sloan get out of bed. Sitting up, she let the sheet fall to her waist. Sloan stood just inside the bedroom door, pulling on a T-shirt over her boxers. “Can’t sleep?”
“Hey,” Sloan whispered. “Sorry. I thought you were asleep.”
“Drifting. I didn’t drink because I was afraid it might give me a headache, so I didn’t have anything to dull the pain of the evening.”
Sloan laughed. “You too, huh?”
“It did seem endless. I’d forgotten how much I dislike these functions, even if they are for a good cause.” Michael shrugged. “I’m not altogether certain about this particular cause.”
Sloan sat on the edge of the bed. “Don’t like the mayor?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know him, but I’m not entirely certain that he’s really the one making the decisions.” She frowned. “There was a very interesting assortment of people there tonight.”
“Some pretty high-powered ones,” Sloan said carefully, not wanting to alarm her unnecessarily. Even though Michael said she was feeling better, she’d only begun to put in regular workdays and she still seemed pale and fragile. The last thing she needed was to worry about things that might not even involve her. Not when Sloan had a feeling she was the one who really interested Zamora. If he didn’t want her attention, why send those photos to her computer? They had to be a warning. And if they were, then it was Sloan they wanted, not Michael. “Your neighbor tonight—Zamora. I understand he’s pretty influential.”
“Mmm,” Michael said absently. “He owns a great deal of real estate along both sides of the river, as well as major shares in several investment companies.” She reached for the cup of tea she’d left on her bedside table, and sipped it. “It’s funny you should mention him. He contacted me yesterday about a business proposal.”
“For Innova?” Sloan asked. Michael’s design company had an international reputation, and Michael was often approached with investment opportunities. She didn’t believe for a second that was Zamora’s true intention, but Michael had no reason to suspect him of anything out of the ordinary, so Sloan forced herself to sound casual. “What did you tell him?”
Michael leaned back against the pillows and stroked Sloan’s forearm. “Oh, I told him I’d keep him in mind.” She smiled. “But that right now, I wasn’t looking for partners.”
“He seemed pretty friendly at dinner tonight.”
“With men like that, charm comes naturally. He reminds me of Nicholas.”
Sloan wanted to say that Michael’s ex-husband Nicholas, a low-life cheating embezzler, was a choirboy compared to Kratos Zamora. “Impressed with himself, huh?”
Michael smiled. “He’s certainly self-assured.” She threaded her fingers through Sloan’s and gave her hand a little shake. “I noticed you getting some attention yourself.”
Sloan frowned. “I don’t—”
“The redhead in the very revealing dress.”
“Oh. Her.” Sloan thought about the business card with a telephone number scrawled on the back she’d slid from the front pocket of her pants and stowed in the glove compartment of her car when Michael wasn’t looking. She thought about the fingers grazing the inside of her thigh, drifting over her stomach. “She was just making idle chat.”
“I’ve never seen her before. Who is she?”
“I don’t know. Probably another Society Hill heiress with more money than she knows what to do with. Isn’t that one of the primary requirements for an invitation to fund-raisers like this?”
“Well, the money part certainly is.” Michael sighed. “Will you try to come back to bed tonight?”
Sloan leaned over and kissed her. “I just want to check a few things. I won’t be long.”
Michael cupped the back of Sloan’s neck and held her close for another long kiss. “Wake me when you come to bed.”
*
“That’s our second pass through here,” Rebecca said. “I don’t see her.”
Dell leaned forward from the back seat of the unmarked, craning her neck to see around Watts. This section of Spring Garden was crowded with bars, and foot traffic was heavy. They were almost to Delaware Avenue, and they still hadn’t seen Sandy.
“Maybe she walked up a few blocks. Let’s go around again,” Dell urged.
“Hey, kid, you’re breathing down my neck,” Watts said. “Take it easy. We’ll find her.”
“How?” Dell snapped. “She’s gone already. She could be anywhere.”
Rebecca pulled into the darkened parking lot of a restaurant that had gone out of business and turned off the engine. “We wait for her to call us.”
“I’m going to check the clubs,” Dell said, pushing open the back door. “Someone may have talked to these guys tonight. They might know where the party is.”
“Yo,” Watts yelled, reaching for his door.
“I’ll handle it,” Rebecca said quietly. She slid out of the car and closed her door. “Mitchell. Wait.”
Dell took another few steps, then stopped just short of the street. Rebecca walked unhurriedly over to her. “Step back from the light.”
Together, they moved into the shadows of the boarded-up building.
“Why is it a bad idea for you to start asking around about Sandy in the clubs?”
Dell balled up her fists, her arms rigid at her sides, and looked past Rebecca at the cars streaming by on the street. She didn’t want to answer the question. She didn’t want to think about why she couldn’t do what she needed to do to find Sandy. To look after her. She didn’t want to have to choose anything over the woman she loved, ever again. “I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?”
“I can’t be a cop if it means I have to put everything else in front of her.” She stared at Rebecca, her eyes hot with tears she refused to shed. “I’m sorry, Lieutenant.”
“What do you think is going to change if you’re not a cop anymore?” Rebecca leaned against the building as if they had all the time in the world to talk.
“I could…”
“What? Spend your time following her around? Checking out her friends? Making sure she doesn’t go anywhere she could get hurt?” Rebecca laughed. “Sandy would hand you your ass in under a week.”
“I could look for her right now. I wouldn’t have to worry about blowing my cover. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be with Irina now. So I can’t go running around trying to find out if Sandy talked to some Russians tonight.”
“It wouldn’t be a very good idea, no. And chances are slim to none you’d find out anything anyhow.”
“But what if it did make a difference,” Dell insisted. “What if I found one of her friends who knew these guys, too, and they could tell me where the party was.”
“What would you do? Crash it? All that would do is probably get both of you beaten up.” Rebecca straightened. “You’ve had a lot thrown at you in a short time. You’re undercover,
and that’s always a tough assignment. Sandy is right in the thick of things, and I know it’s hard. Hard and…scary.”
“I let the Army take everything from me,” Dell said hoarsely. “Everything I thought I was, everything I thought I believed in. The woman I thought loved me. I couldn’t do a damn thing to change it.”
“You’re not alone now. You’ve got help. That’s why we’re here.” Rebecca gestured toward the car. “Now we’ve got a lot of work to do and it’s gonna be a long night. I suggest you sit your ass down and wait for her to call. She’ll call.”
“I’m sorry I’m not…” Dell pushed her hand through her hair. “Fuck, I’m sorry if I let you down.”
Rebecca clasped the back of Dell’s neck and rubbed the tight muscles for a few seconds. “You haven’t let anybody down. And you won’t. Not me. Not Sandy. Come on, let’s go.”
Rebecca dropped her hand and walked away, and after a second’s hesitation, Dell followed. As she walked across the cold dark parking lot, she felt the warmth in the back of her neck where Rebecca had touched her. She didn’t understand it, but she wished for that touch to return.
Chapter Twenty
Well, Sandy thought, she was right about one thing. They were in Trenton. She caught a quick glimpse of a sign as they pulled off I-95. She couldn’t see much else with the silent giant next to her blocking most of the window. He hadn’t said anything. He hadn’t touched her, for which she was thankful. Darla had been silent for the entire forty-minute trip too.
“So where is this place?” Sandy asked brightly. She’d tried getting information from the Russian a couple of times, but every question she asked was greeted with a grunt or nothing at all. “Don’t they have hotels in Philly? We have to come all the way up here for a party?” She leaned forward and turned sideways on the seat so she could peer into the man’s face. “Hey. You’re not sleeping, are you? We’re gonna party tonight, remember?”