“What a surprise.” Catherine reached for Rebecca’s hand as she kissed Rebecca’s cheek. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Rebecca laced her fingers between Catherine’s and pulled her gently out of the path of the steady stream of hospital visitors. “Any chance you can get away for a while?”

“I have a little over two hours before I need to see patients in my office.” Catherine tilted her head, searching Rebecca’s eyes, appreciating the warmth she found there. “Just what do you have in mind, Detective?”

“I suppose there’s no chance we could roll around in the on-call room for a while?” Rebecca took a step closer until her body lightly touched Catherine’s.

Catherine drew a surprised breath and then saw the amusement flickering in her lover’s face. “You shouldn’t tease me while I’m working, darling.”

“I was only partly teasing.” Rebecca’s voice dropped a register as she traced her fingers over Catherine’s forearm. “But I suppose you’d like dinner instead.”

“I’d like both,” Catherine murmured. “But I think the rolling around part should wait until later.”

“Where are we going?” Catherine asked.

“DiCarlo’s.”

“You’re kidding. On the spur of the moment like this?” Catherine turned in her seat to study Rebecca’s face. “Is this a special occasion?”

Rebecca shook her head. “Nope. I just thought you’d like it.”

“Oh, I like it.” Catherine rested her hand on Rebecca’s thigh, softly running her fingers up and down the tight muscles beneath. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Rebecca asked curiously as she pulled into the small gravel parking lot adjoining the century-old mansion that housed DiCarlo’s restaurant.

“You don’t usually stop work this early.”

Rebecca blushed. She wasn’t used to anyone being able to tell what was going on with her as easily as Catherine. It wasn’t that she minded; it was just that it continued to surprise her. “I’m not done, exactly. I’ll explain over dinner.”

Once they had ordered and were alone, Rebecca said, “I’ll be going back out for a few hours this evening.”

“Will you come by the apartment when you’re done?” Catherine still found it necessary to ask, uncertain of how much to expect at this point in their relationship.

“Yes, if you don’t mind that it might be late.” Each time they had this conversation, Rebecca was anxious. Every relationship she’d ever had had suffered and ultimately failed because of who she was. Because of the cop she was.

Catherine raised an eyebrow. “Rebecca, I know you have to work. I know what you do. You don’t need to apologize for that by taking me out to dinner.”

“I’m not…” Rebecca fell silent as the waiter brought their first course. “It’s not that. Not totally. I wanted to see you. I… I miss you. Jesus, I just saw you this morning, but I miss you.”

Catherine reached across the table and took Rebecca’s hand. “I don’t want you to feel guilty about being who you are. I love you. And loving you means loving the cop in you. I know that.”

Rebecca brought Catherine’s hand to her lips and kissed her palm softly. “I just want to do everything right.”

“Well, you’re doing very well so far.” Catherine carefully drew her hand away, because the heat from Rebecca’s fingers was making it difficult for her to think. “Are you working on a new case?”

“Uh…” Swiftly, Rebecca calculated, trying to gauge how much she should say. “Officially, I’m not working on anything. Henry wants me to see Whitaker another time or two before he’ll clear me to resume full duty.”

“Officially.” Catherine’s stomach clenched. “And unofficially?”

“Unofficially I’ve been green lighted to continue looking into the pornography ring.” Rebecca had heard the undertone of anxiety that Catherine had tried to hide. “A lot of it we can do right from Sloan’s, with computer traces, just the way we have been doing. You don’t need to worry.”

“Rebecca, darling,” Catherine said softly. “I will try my very best to understand and support you. I truly mean that. But you can’t expect me not to worry.”

“I promise it will be all right.” Rebecca reached for Catherine’s hand again. “Try to believe that.”

“Will you let me help?”

Rebecca’s first impulse was to say no, but she forced out the words. “Yes. Chances are we’ll need your profiling input.”

“Good. I hate what’s happened, too, and I want to help.”

Rebecca rubbed her face briskly with her free hand. “God, this relationship business is tough.”

Catherine laughed, her eyes suddenly sparkling. “I love you, Rebecca Frye.”

“What did I do?”

“And that’s one of the big reasons why. You give me what I need, just because you’re you.”

After Rebecca dropped Catherine off at the hospital, she made one quick stop and then headed north for Old City and the renovated warehouse that was both Sloan Security’s central office and Michael and Sloan’s home. Once inside, she found Jason McBride, Sloan’s business associate, studying a computer monitor. When he glanced in her direction, she could tell immediately that he’d been working without sleep for at least two days.

“Hi, Rebecca.”

“Jason.” She glanced around. “Mitchell and Watts here yet?”

“No,” a voice from behind Rebecca answered.

Rebecca turned and saw Sloan walking toward her. The security consultant, who wore her signature blue jeans, white T-shirt, and scuffed brown boots, looked roughly twice as bad as Jason. Still, Rebecca was happy to see that Sloan’s eyes were clearer than they had been in days.

“Sloan. Good to see you.” Rebecca held out her hand in greeting. “How’s Michael?”

“She was awake for a few minutes this afternoon.” Sloan smiled as she shook Rebecca’s hand. “I’m going back to the hospital soon, but when Jason said you were coming over, I wanted to be here.”

Before Rebecca could reply, a small series of pings signaled activity from the perimeter cameras. She turned to her left and glanced at another series of monitors. Watts and Mitchell were displayed climbing the steps to the front door. Another minute passed, and then Watts and Mitchell joined the group.

“Just like old times,” Watts rumbled.

Mitchell, also in jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots, sidled over to Jason and peered over his shoulder at the computer. “Sweet,” she murmured, a note of excitement in her voice.

Rebecca walked over to Jason. “Can you leave that program running or do you have to baby-sit it?”

He shook his head. “No. If we get a hit, it will freeze the frame.”

“Okay, then, listen up,” Rebecca said, getting everyone’s attention. “Let’s go get some coffee and assess the situation.”

They moved into the conference room in the rear, filled coffee cups, and settled around the granite-topped table.

“We’ve got a week or so to finish what we started with the investigation into the Internet porn ring,” Rebecca stated. She looked at the people gathered around. “I have two primary goals—the first is finding out how and where they’re getting the kids, where they’re stashing them, and who’s behind the video business.”

Sloan’s right hand tightened into a fist. “What about—”

“The second,” Rebecca continued, unperturbed, “is finding out who leaked the Intel about the raid last night and ordered the hit on Sloan. When we know that, we’ll know who put Michael in the hospital.”

“How we gonna work it?” Watts asked.

“From two directions,” Rebecca replied. “Sloan and Jason will work the computers ID’ing the players in the porn video. Mitchell—you work the chat rooms and see if there’s anything going around there that could lead us to a name.”

Mitchell nodded, her expression intent.

“Sloan,” Rebecca met Sloan’s hot eyes, reading the need for action, for retribution, in her purple gaze, “I need you to do some hacking.”

“Into where?”

Rebecca hesitated, glancing once at Mitchell. The young officer returned her scrutiny steadily. “Into the police department.”

Watts muttered softly, “Fuck me.”

“Someone raided the Crime Scene Unit’s master files and derailed the investigation into the deaths of two police officers.” Rebecca blew out a breath. “I’m betting that person was the same one who fingered you for the hit, Sloan.”

“We need street Intel,” Watts said into the ensuing silence. “All this computer jerking o—uh, investigating, is fine, but we need names, leads, something to chase.”

“That’s the second wing of our operation. You and I will work that, Watts.” She glanced at her watch just as the repetitive ping of the security system sounded again.

“System—show sector one,” Sloan ordered and a monitor mounted on a wall bracket flashed to the landing in front of the main entrance.

Mitchell gasped.

A thin blond in low-riding jeans and a skin-tight top stood staring into the camera. The audio picked up her voice. “I’m here, so you gonna open up or what? Hey, Frye? Jesus.”

“That would be my CI,” Rebecca remarked flatly. “Better let her in before she starts taking the door apart.”

CHAPTER FIVE

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Watts swiveled in his chair to follow the progress of the newest arrival on the monitor. As the image on the screen switched from one security camera to the next, he whistled softly as he watched the woman saunter across the garage to the elevator.

“Tasty. Looks like jailbait, though.”

“Detective,” Rebecca said in a voice so soft it would have been inaudible were it not so deadly. “Be careful what you say about one of mine.”

“Sure, Sarge. No offense—”

One of mine. Mitchell, whose eyes were riveted on the monitor as well, stiffened. “Officially?”

“Yes. She’s registered.” Rebecca regarded her solemnly, noting the tension in the young officer’s body and the harsh edge in her voice. So there is something going on with these two.