“That’s great.” Rebecca leaned both hands on the footboard of the bed, a frown forming between her eyes. “Where are you going?”

“Uh, Sandy’s, we Þ gure. I’m supposed to have a place in the same building…I mean, I do have a place there.” Mitchell thought of the tiny studio apartment she’d rented down the hall from Sandy’s. It was empty save for a bare mattress in the middle of the living-room ß oor, and she’d never slept there. She’d just assumed that staying with Sandy meant in Sandy’s apartment. Realizing that maybe she’d jumped the gun, Mitchell cut her eyes to her girlfriend.

“I already told the super that Dell and I kinda have a thing going,”

Sandy said with a dismissive shrug. “And we kinda made it a point to be seen around the neighborhood this week. It will look natural for her to stay with me.”

“It’s important that people not know about your injury,” Rebecca pointed out. “It’s not likely that anyone will associate you with what happened with the sting, but we don’t want to take any chances.”

Mitchell’s eyes brightened and excitement rippled in her voice.

“So I’m going back undercover?”

“Let’s say it’s a possibility,” Rebecca equivocated. She wasn’t certain how soon Mitchell would be streetworthy, and she had a feeling that the investigation was going to move quickly. The data Sloan and her associate Jason McBride had gathered on the Internet sex video subscribers had led to dozens of arrests in the last two days. The people

• 23 •

RADCLY fFE

behind the prostitution and pornography operations had to be getting nervous.

“You can’t even walk yet, Dell,” Sandy objected quietly.

“Just a couple of days,” Mitchell said, her eyes riveted to Rebecca.

“Dr. Torveau said I’d be good in just a few days.”

Sandy jerked upright in her chair, a ß ush rising in her cheeks. “She did not—”

Rebecca held up a hand to forestall the storm. “There’s no point arguing about it now. When I have the plan mapped out, I’ll let you know if you have a part.” The truth was she needed both Mitchell and Sandy on the streets, but she wasn’t about to send a young, inexperienced ofÞ cer—who was also less than 100 percent emotionally and physically Þ t—into danger. “There’ll be some paperwork to take care of before you can get back to duty, Mitchell.”

Mitchell dropped her head back against the pillow with a groan.

“Oh man. Not the shrink again.” Then, as if realizing what she had said and to whom, she hastily added, “I mean, Dr. Rawling’s terriÞ c, but—”

“It’s SOP, Detective,” Rebecca said, “so just suck it up and get it done.”

“Yes, ma’am, but until—” Mitchell faltered, her jaw working but no sounds emitting. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

Rebecca grinned and Watts guffawed.

“Congratulations, Mitchell,” Rebecca pronounced. “You’ve earned yourself a provisional promotion. Detective One.”

“For real?” Without thinking, Mitchell held out her hand to Sandy, who took it while edging closer to the bed.

“You’ll need to take the exam next time it’s offered to satisfy all the requirements, but yes, it’s for real.” Rebecca didn’t try to hide her pleasure. “Well done.”

“Yeah, nice going, kid,” Watts chimed in. He gestured toward Rebecca with his chin. “The Loo here deserves some congrats too.”

“Lieutenant?” Mitchell echoed, before grinning broadly. “That’s great!”

“Thanks,” Rebecca said quietly.

“And the team is staying together?” Mitchell asked anxiously.

• 24 •

Justice Served

Being laid up made her worry that the investigation would move on without her—something she fervently did not want to happen.

“Let’s say we’re restructuring.” Rebecca went on to describe the High ProÞ le Crimes Unit in general terms, leaving out the political machinations behind the scenes. “So, Detective, bottom line is that you’re on medical leave until cleared by both Dr. Torveau and the department. Then we’ll talk about assignments.”

“Oh man,” Mitchell whispered. “Detective.” Her eyes tracked from Rebecca to Watts and then to Sandy. “What do you think?”

Sandy’s expression was unreadable as she quietly said, “I think you’ll be a bigger pain in the ass now than ever.”

Mitchell grinned. “Yeah. Most likely.”

v

The room was very quiet after Rebecca and Watts left. Sandy still sat beside the bed. Her small hand, the nails tipped in a red so dark it might have been blood, rested motionless on the white sheets next to Mitchell’s thigh. Mitchell hooked her index Þ nger around Sandy’s thumb and shook gently. “You mad?”

“No. Why?”

Mitchell eased the rest of her Þ ngers over the top of Sandy’s hand and closed them. Sandy did not return the pressure. “Before they showed up, you seemed pretty warm and cuddly. It’s kinda cold in here now.”

“You know, Dell, I have to do sex pretty much twenty-four hours a day. Sometimes I’m just not in the mood, okay?”

A muscle in Mitchell’s jaw twitched, but she kept her hand on Sandy’s. “That’s a fucked-up thing to say to me.”

Sandy slowly turned her head and met Mitchell’s eyes. The sharp retort died on her tongue when she saw the undisguised pain in the deep blue eyes. She closed her own and took a long, wavering breath before opening them again. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Mitchell said quietly.

“I want you all the time,” Sandy murmured.

“Same here.” Mitchell lifted Sandy’s hand to her cheek and rubbed it against her skin. “You pissed off about the promotion?”

Sandy shook her head.

• 25 •

RADCLY fFE

“About me staying with you?”

“No.”

“Come on, honey. Just tell me.”

The silence dragged on so long that Mitchell couldn’t stand it.

“Sandy?”

“It’s the undercover thing.”

Mitchell’s brows furrowed. “I thought you liked Mitch,” she said, referring to her undercover persona. She bit the tip of Sandy’s index Þ nger playfully. “He likes you.”

“It’s not Mitch. You know what Mitch does to me.” Sandy swiveled on her chair, gripping Mitchell’s hand hard. “In case you haven’t noticed, since all this started, somebody popped Frye’s partner in broad daylight, and then somebody else tried to run down Sloan and almost took out her girlfriend instead. You got knifed two days ago and just about bled to death. These guys aren’t fucking fooling. You go poking around down at the clubs, and the next time that blade is going to be in your chest.”

“Jeez, Sandy. I’m a cop.” Mitchell’s tone was clearly incredulous.

“I can handle myself. You’re the one who’s likely to get into trouble, being Frye’s conÞ dential informant. If anybody ought to quit, it’s you.”

Sandy snorted. “Look, rookie. I’ve been managing on the streets a lot longer than you’ve been a cop. I know my way around.”

“Oh yeah, sure you—” Mitchell broke off as a knock sounded at the door. “Yeah?”

The door swung open, and Sloan took one step into the room. “Safe to come in? Or should I wait until you’re done throwing things?”

“I oughtta go,” Sandy said, leaping up as she released Mitchell’s hand.

“Hey,” Mitchell protested. She rolled over and made a grab for Sandy’s hand, then caught her breath and groaned as pain lanced through her leg. “Oh, ow, fuck. Ow.”

“Dell!” Sandy grasped Mitchell’s shoulders and pushed her gently back to the pillows. “Lay down, you blockhead.”

“Don’t go,” Mitchell gasped.

“Okay, okay. Jeez.” Sandy stroked Mitchell’s cheek. “I’ll stay already.”

Sloan cleared her throat. “You two squared away now?”

• 26 •

Justice Served

“Yeah,” they answered in unison.

“Good.” She tilted her chin at Mitchell. “How’re you doing?”

“Not too bad,” Mitchell said, Þ ghting to keep her breath even. Her leg throbbed as if someone had kicked her, more than once. She took in the circles under Sloan’s normally vibrant violet eyes and the sallow tint to her skin. Now that she was paying attention, Sloan, dressed in her usual faded jeans and tight white T-shirt, looked thinner than Mitchell remembered. “You?”

Sloan lifted a shoulder. “Jason and I have been working around the clock extracting data from the computers we conÞ scated in the raid the other night. We’ve got a dozen sources of potential subscribers to sift through—chat-room transcripts, e-mail distribution lists, on-line bulletin boards. We’re drowning in data.” Despite her obvious fatigue, she exuded excitement.

“You know,” Mitchell said, suddenly energized. “I could work on that until my leg’s better. I helped Jason with the initial data analysis, and I set up some of the traces.”

“It’s an idea,” Sloan replied hesitantly. She had considered suggesting it herself, but had resisted trying to recruit one of Frye’s people for her own private investigation out of respect for the homicide detective. But if Mitchell was otherwise unoccupied… “Look, why don’t we see how you’re feeling in a few days—”

Mitchell pushed up on the pillows, shaking her head vehemently.

“I’m okay. They’re going to let me out of here today. I could start tomorrow.”

“There’s just one little problem,” Sandy interjected with the barest hint of sarcasm.

“What?” Mitchell asked, turning to her girlfriend.

“You can’t walk, let alone drive or ride the bike.”

“By tomorrow, I’ll—”

“Stay at our place,” Sloan interjected. “We’ve got plenty of room, and all you have to do is ride the elevator one ß oor.”

“Yeah? That would be grea—” Mitchell halted, carefully not looking in Sandy’s direction. “Thanks, but I’ll be Þ ne at Sandy’s.”

“Both of you.” Sloan grinned at Sandy. “I don’t plan to keep an eye on her, and somebody should. You’d be doing me a favor if you hung out at our place for the next few days and made sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”