Catherine laughed. “I think so. Having Sandy believe in Mitch, and relate to him with consistency and sincerity, makes it easier for you to project his personality.”

“Yes.” Mitchell grinned. “Having her have the hots for Mitch helps me be him.”

“I think that’s what I just said,” Catherine murmured, and Mitchell laughed.

“I can see that the undercover portion of the assignment is not a problem for you. What about the rest of it?” Catherine asked, suddenly serious. “Are you concerned about the danger?”

“Concerned?” Mitchell pondered the idea. “No. It takes some getting used to, never knowing exactly what’s going to happen, but I feel prepared. Being a cop is just like being a soldier. You train, you know you’re ready, and whatever happens, you deal with it.”

“Speaking of soldiers,” Catherine remarked evenly, “Erica was a bit of a surprise.”

“Yeah, well, she hasn’t been part of my life for quite a while, so I never thought to mention her.”

Catherine made a sound of assent, watching Mitchell’s face.

“Okay,” Mitchell conceded. “I don’t like to talk about her.”

After a moment, Catherine asked, “Has seeing her yesterday changed how you feel at all?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s going to be a lot harder to put her out of my mind now.”

“It must take a lot of work to keep your twin out of your mind.”

For the merest instant, Mitchell closed her eyes. Then with a sigh, she said, “It’s impossible. Most of the time I don’t think about her, but then at odd moments, I remember something we did or something she said, or I’ll want to tell her something…and she’s not there.” She took a deep breath and sighed again. “Then it’s really tough.”

“Now…with all that’s going on with this investigation, is probably not the best time to explore your feelings concerning the estrangement with your sister, but at some point, I think you should.”

Slowly, Mitchell nodded. “So…you and I, we could do that?”

“Yes, we could.”

• 219 •

RADCLY fFE

“Okay,” Mitchell said as if that settled the matter. Then she leaned forward, her gaze intent. “So, will you clear me to get back to work?”

Catherine didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

v

Mitch sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward to pull on his right motorcycle boot. Sandy scooted around behind him and threaded her arms around his neck, running her hands back and forth over his chest.

“Remember, Ali said you couldn’t ride the bike.” Sandy kissed the back of his neck.

“I won’t,” he replied, reaching for the other boot. His leg ached when he stood too long or stretched too far. But basically, it didn’t bother him. The stitches hadn’t yet been removed, but the incision was healing Þ ne, and he rarely thought about it. “Jasmine will pick me up in her car.”

“I could come with you to the Troc,” Sandy suggested. “I am supposed to be your girlfriend, you know.”

“You are my girlfriend.”

“So, I’ll come.”

“I’m going to Ziggie’s after the Kings Þ nish their show.”

“I know. I’ll catch a ride home with someone.”

Mitch angled around on the bed until he could see Sandy’s face.

He grinned. “Uh-huh. Anybody who sees us together will really believe that I’m going to leave you to go out clubbing with the guys.”

Sandy ran her Þ ngertips along his jaw. “You look good. The shading is just right. Clubbing with the guys, huh. That’s what you call it? Watching a bunch of girls dance naked?”

“I’m not watching the girls. You know that.”

“Oh yeah, sure. I bet you keep your eyes closed the whole time you’re in Ziggie’s. I’ve seen the way those tables are placed. You’re practically at eye level with their—”

“Come on, San,” Mitch protested, snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her sideways into his lap. Her arms automatically came around his neck, and he nuzzled her throat. “I’ll be working, and even if I wasn’t, the only girl I ever think about is you.” He kissed her

• 220 •

Justice Served

neck, then rubbed his cheek against her breast. “All the time. I think about this all the time.”

Sandy smoothed her Þ ngers over the short hair at the back of his neck before guiding his mouth to the peak of her breast, murmuring her pleasure when he took her nipple into his mouth. The thin material of her camisole molded to her breast from the moisture of his lips, heightening the sensation as it tightened around her ß esh. “I know how you get,” she whispered, shifting her hips against his crotch, “when you’re geared up like this.”

Mitch groaned. “How? How do I get, huh, honey?”

“Horny.” Sandy leaned back, caught the bottom of her camisole in her Þ ngers, and lifted it to expose her breasts. Watching Mitch’s face, she cupped one small, Þ rm breast and ß icked the nipple with her Þ nger.

“Just remember, I’ll be waiting…” She lost her breath as Mitch’s mouth closed Þ rmly on her again.

Back arched, both hands clasped behind Mitch’s neck, Sandy rocked in his lap while he moved from one breast to the other, torturing her nipples with kisses interspersed with tiny bites. Within minutes, they were both gasping.

“You know what you’re doing to me, right?” Mitch groaned, both hands circling her breasts, squeezing rhythmically. He lifted his hips to meet Sandy’s as she ground down against him. “You know how bad I need you right now, right?”

“Uh-huh,” Sandy gasped, her head thrown back, eyes closed, her hips rolling over the prominence between his thighs.

“You trying to make me come in my jeans?”

A slow smile curved over Sandy’s face as she opened her eyes partway, her expression dreamy and soft. “Can you?”

“Keep riding me like that, you’ll Þ nd out,” Mitch growled.

Sandy shifted with one ß uid movement, reseating herself so that she faced him, her legs wrapped behind his hips as she sat in his lap. The thin barrier of her silk panties rested over the bulge in his crotch. Breath coming fast, she rubbed herself on him in short, fast circles, bearing down harder with each rotation. “I might…beat you to it, baby.”

Captivated by the ß ickering images of pleasure racing across her face, Mitch cradled her hips in his palms and pulled her to him, increasing the friction between them. “Do it, honey. Let me see you come on me.”

• 221 •

RADCLY fFE

“I’m going to,” she said in wonder, clutching his shoulders, rocking now in sharp, erratic jerks.

His own need forgotten, he tore his gaze away from her face long enough to look down, his stomach tightening at the sight of her passion soaking the denim stretched over his cock. The sight was enough to make him come, but he held back, concentrating on her—timing his thrusts to the lift and fall of her hips. “That’s it, honey,” he whispered.

“That’s it.”

She gave one startled cry and stiffened in his embrace, pressing down so hard against him he thought he’d burst. Then she collapsed into his arms, soft and warm, making small, broken sounds of contentment.

“Oh yeah,” Mitch muttered, pressing his face to her damp hair.

“I’m gonna look at some other girl after this.”

“Okay,” Sandy replied drowsily. “But no touching.”

“Not ’til I get home,” Mitch promised. “But then, I’m gonna do a lot of touching.”

• 222 •

Justice Served

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Sunday, Early Hours

You doing okay?” Jasmine asked as she sidled close to Mitch in the semicircular booth that faced the stage.

“Great.” He tried not to stare at the performers, young women Sandy’s age, most of them built like her—Þ rm and sleek and limber—

and barely postadolescent. He couldn’t think about Sandy and the years she had been available for the titillation and arousal of strangers, not and do the job he had to do. Between him and the bodies gyrating a few feet away, the air hung in a blue-gray cloud of smoke and dust ß ecks that drifted in desultory waves, stirred by the motion of the dancers. Two dozen rapt voyeurs were gathered around at tables or booths, their faces cast in deathly pallor by slanting beams of light from the recessed spots focused in three glaring columns on the raised central platform. Generic strip music blared, and Mitch had to lean close to make himself heard.

Jasmine smelled of some exotic spice and a hint of something darker.

Despite the dim lighting, her slender form, made sleeker by painted-on black slacks and a plunging vee-neck top, was inÞ nitely more alluring than the naked bodies on display. “You see anyone interesting?”

In the last week, they’d assembled photos of dozens of suspected midlevel Mob members from police Þ les and surveillance images—the crew captains, their lieutenants, and the street soldiers who did the dirty work—but Mitch hadn’t seen anyone he recognized.

“No,” Jasmine said. “They’re here, somewhere. Probably in a back ofÞ ce. Chances are the lieutenants are all keeping a low proÞ le because of the arrests last week. They usually send their soldiers to do the real work anyhow.”

Ken Dewar slid into the black leather-covered booth next to Mitch and handed out bottles of beer.

“Thanks,” Mitch said. “Find anybody worth checking out on your travels?”

• 223 •

RADCLY fFE

“Not yet, but the night is young,” Ken replied, sipping his beer.

“It’s the usual crowd—same bartender as last week too. I don’t recognize the dancers tonight, but in this kind of work, they turn over pretty fast.

Some john beats them up, they get sick, they get addicted. They don’t last long.”

Mitch’s stomach twisted as he remembered the bright promise in Sandy’s eyes and the sleek, smooth lines of her body. He swore to himself that she was never coming back to this life. “Have you ever…