“Mitchell’s on the way to University. Knife wound. I can’t leave the scene…”

“I’m on my way,” Catherine said at once as she pushed back the covers and rose. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Fine. I’ll be there soon.” Another pause. “Catherine, take good care of Mitchell.”

“Like she was my own.”

“I love you. I gotta run.”

The phone went dead.

I love you.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Interesting team you’ve got here, Frye,” Dee Flanagan said as she stood just inside the warehouse door, hands on hips, surveying what was now her crime scene. Her blue-jacketed CSU techs were busy photographing the studio, diagramming the layout, and collecting and cataloging evidence. To her left, an astonishingly sexy woman in clothes that should rightfully only be worn between the hours of midnight and five a.m. sat conferring with Sloan before a bank of video monitors, computer screens, and other electronic equipment.

“Unconventional, perhaps, but unparalleled.” Because she trusted Flanagan as she trusted almost no one else in the department, with the exception of Watts, and because she needed to see for herself that Mitchell was all right, Rebecca added, “As soon as Sloan is satisfied that the electronic data is secure, you can take anything out of here that you need to.”

Again, Flanagan nodded, her eyes everywhere at once, ensuring that everything was being handled appropriately. “Looks like you made a big score tonight, Frye. Nice going.”

It was true, but it wasn’t everything that she wanted. They had a piece of the puzzle, and they were likely to get media-worthy arrests from it. But she didn’t yet have the source of the leak within the department, and she didn’t have Jeff Cruz and Jimmy Hogan’s killer. She didn’t have Michael’s assailant. They’d made a start, but the job was far from finished. “What I’ve got is an officer in the hospital.” Rebecca sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Hell.”

“Go take care of business, Detective.” Flanagan patted Rebecca’s back and walked off to chastise a tech for failing to blue light the sheets on the bed for bodily fluids before bagging them.

“Look, I don’t need to be examined by any gynecologist. The guy didn’t leave anything on or in me,” Sandy said hotly. “And believe me, I’d know.”

“It’s just routine.” Watts pulled the unmarked surveillance sedan into the turnaround in front of the emergency department at University hospital.

Sandy eyed him suspiciously. He hadn’t looked at her once since they’d gotten into the car, and he hadn’t insulted her, made any lewd comments, or been the least bit suggestive. Something was wrong. There was only one thing she could think of that he would keep from her. Her stomach cramped. “Where’s Dell?”

“The operation is still ongoing,” Watts replied stiffly.

“I want to talk to her right now. Get her on the phone.” The longer he stalled, the more frightened she became. Oh, baby, what’s happened? Where are you?

“Fuck me.” Watts rubbed his face with both hands, wondering what he’d done to deserve this ass-end of the detail. “Okay, just take it easy, okay? She got a little dinged up, and she’s in the ER being looked—hey!”

He stared after Sandy’s retreating back as she raced toward the emergency room entrance.

Catherine stepped outside the curtain just in time to witness Sandy rush headlong down the corridor. She reached out and caught Sandy’s arm. “Are you hurt?”

Sandy shook her head vehemently. “Is Dell here?”

“Right inside,” Catherine replied with a tilt of her head toward the curtain.

“Is she—” Sandy’s voice broke. “Can I see her?”

“I don’t see why not.” Catherine took Sandy’s hand and with the other reached to pull the curtain aside. “She’s going to be fine.”

“Sure,” Sandy said flatly. Like anyone would tell me the truth.

It was worse than she expected.

Mitchell lay on a stretcher, eyes closed, with intravenous lines running into both arms. And she was white. Not pale. White. Sandy’s heart sank. Slowly, she walked to the head of the stretcher and touched her fingers to Mitchell’s cheek. “Dell? Baby?”

Mitchell’s lids flickered open, her pupils wide and unfocused. She blinked, her vision cleared, and she focused on Sandy’s face. “It’s okay.”

“You hurting?” Sandy’s lip trembled and she caught it in her teeth. She stroked her hand over Mitchell’s hair.

“Not so much. They gave me stuff.”

The tears came. Sandy couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t been able to stop the tears. But it was all too big, too much to hold inside. Letting Dell into her life, loving her, the terrible fear of losing her.

“Honey,” Mitchell said soothingly. “Don’t…jeez, couldn’t you…yell at me for being too slow or something?”

Sandy sniffed. Smiled tremulously. “Were you?”

“Maybe a little. But Frye put me way back in the alley…I had to run a long way.” Mitchell struggled to keep her eyes open, but the drugs were winning. “Don’t worry, ’k? I love you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sandy leaned close and kissed her. “I love you, Dell.”

Mitchell closed her eyes. “You go home. Don’t worry.”

It was terrifying to watch her slip away. She brushed her lips over Mitchell’s ear. “I’ll just wait for you.”

Rebecca found her lover and her confidential informant tucked away in the corner of the hospital cafeteria a little after nine a.m. Catherine looked beautiful, and just seeing her eased the ball of tension she’d been carrying in her chest. Sandy looked worn out, but unexpectedly cute in Catherine’s University Med sweatshirt and baggy jeans.

“Hi,” Rebecca said as she slid into the free seat.

“Hi.” Sandy watched Catherine out of the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Detective,” Catherine said in a tone that was almost a caress. She quickly took in her lover’s rumpled shirt, which was uncharacteristically untucked. Of more concern were the deep shadows beneath her eyes and the faint tremor in the hand that held the paper coffee cup. “Have you had breakfast?”

Rebecca lifted a shoulder. “Not yet. How’s Mitchell?”

“We’re still waiting. She’s been in surgery a little over an hour, so I expect we’ll hear any time now.”

“I have to get back to the station soon.”

“Right away?” Catherine couldn’t hide her concern. Less than two weeks before, she’d been the one waiting in the ER while Rebecca underwent emergency treatment. She very much did not want to experience that again.

“Mmm.” Rebecca sighed tiredly and leaned back in her chair. “Sloan’s still at the warehouse, and Jason’s back at the office coordinating the data. Between what they got from the computers on site and the IDs we’ve been collecting the last few weeks, we’re going to have a list of names by midday. I need to arrange warrants and put together a couple of strike teams to hit these guys all at once.”

Catherine turned to Sandy. “Would you excuse us for just a few minutes?”

“Sure,” Sandy replied, getting to her feet with a grin. Frye’s gonna get her ass chewed. Wow.

When Sandy was out of earshot, Catherine leaned forward and put her hand on Rebecca’s arm. “You’re in no shape to lead a strike team. You’ve been up all night, and you just went back to full du—”

“You’re right.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Rebecca linked her fingers with Catherine’s. “I said, you’re right. I’m not going to.”

“Oh. Well.”

“But…I still need to organize it. I need to get Watts to walk the warrants through and I need to brief the teams and I need to be in the surveillance van timing the arrests.” She sighed again.

“You won’t be…going through any doors today?”

Rebecca shook her head.

“I won’t ask about last night.” Because I already know. Sandy was inside, one of your own. Of course you went through first.

“Okay.” Rebecca ran her thumb over the top of Catherine’s warm hand. “Thanks.”

“Where’s your jacket?”

“I had to throw it away.” Rebecca looked around for Sandy. “Mitchell’s blood was all over it. She saved a cop’s life tonight, Catherine.”

Catherine smiled fondly. “She’s just your kind of cop, isn’t she, my love?”

“Yeah.” Rebecca grinned. “Yeah, she is.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Mitchell swam up through dark heavy waters, struggling against the unseen hand that threatened to pull her ever deeper. Her chest ached, hungry for air, and distantly, pain broke over her like an angry surf. Gasping, she opened her eyes.

“Take it easy,” Rebecca said gently, resting her palm lightly against Mitchell’s shoulder. “You’re okay. You’re in the recovery room.”

“Sergeant,” Mitchell said hoarsely, struggling to focus. “Where’s…Sandy?”

“Waiting outside with Catherine. I had to pull some strings to get in here.” Rebecca smiled, pleased to see that Mitchell’s eyes were clearing rapidly. “You’ll be able to see her in a bit.”

“What’s happening…with the case?”

Rebecca grinned. “In about two hours, we’re going to kick some major ass.”

Mitchell groaned.

“Are your hurting? You need me to get the nurse?”

“No. I can’t believe…I’m going to miss this.” She tried to raise her head but was still too weak.

“Unfortunately, your kicking leg is temporarily out of commission, officer.” Rebecca squeezed Mitchell’s shoulder.

“Is it bad?”

“Nah. The surgeon said you’d be back on your feet in no time.”

“Back on the team?”

“I don’t know that there will be a team after today,” Rebecca said quietly.

“Sergeant?”

Rebecca raised an eyebrow.

“Kick some butt for me.”

The corner of Rebecca’s mouth lifted into a feral grin. “You can count on it.”

When Mitchell next awoke, the pain was less, and her overwhelming sensation was one of hunger. She started to sit up, and a small hand gently pressed her down.