“The same. You know.” Lily made a subtle jerk-off motion and dropped onto the adjacent stool.

Sandy smiled wryly. “Yeah, I know.”

“I heard you’ve got some new kind of action going on.”

Sandy’s pulse jumped. Frye was always careful not to be seen with her unless she made it look like she was rousting Sandy. Fuck, maybe someone had seen them in the diner the other night. She’d had her arm around Frye’s waist while they were walking down the street.

Hell, Frye had had her arm around her shoulders. Being cozy with a cop was not a good way to make friends around here. “What would that be?”

“Some pretty boy who rides a big bike?” Lily cocked her head.

“Maybe a boy with something a little different in his pants.”

Sandy shrugged. Not Frye, then. Mitch. “He’s fun to play with.

And he knows what to do with it, you know what I mean?”

“Hey, if it works, why not.” Lily laughed. “Does he have a friend?”

Sandy bumped Lily’s shoulder. “Three of them.”

“Maybe someday.”

“Let me know.”

“So what do you hear?” Lily asked.

That was just the question Sandy was hoping for. The fewer times she had to ask for news, the better. She looked around to be sure they wouldn’t be overheard, then leaned closer. “I heard some guys are looking for new talent. The party circuit, maybe films. You get anybody asking, I want in.”

“Funny,” Lily said. “That kind of action dried up earlier this year, but Julie told me last night a couple of guys were asking around for models. Stills, and maybe some videos. Said there might be other work soon too. Parties and like that.”

• 91 •

RADclY fFe

“Damn, I could have used a little something extra.” Sandy signaled the bartender to get Lily a drink. “Did she say who the guys were?”

Lily shook her head. “Uh-uh. None of the regulars. They were talking up the girls at the Zodiac.”

“Oh well,” Sandy sighed, pretending to check out the room. “I ought to be able to score something here.”

“Don’t go in the back,” Lily said. “There’s a cop hanging around there somewhere. Getting a blow job, I think.”

Taking the easy excuse, Sandy stood up. “I don’t need any of that.

I’ll catch you later.” She started away, then turned back. “Listen. Tell the others to call me if those guys come around again.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for the beer,” Lily called after her.

Once outside, Sandy headed back the way she had come to catch the subway home. She heard footsteps keeping pace behind her, but she neither sped up nor slowed. At one in the morning the streets were nearly deserted. An occasional cab zoomed by, and now and then someone staggered out of a bar, but she was on her own.

She was used to that, but for the first time she realized she had someone who would care if she didn’t come home. She liked the feeling. A lot.

v

Talia sipped her pinot noir and watched numerals scroll on her computer screen. A fire burned in the marble fireplace across from her antique carved walnut desk. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined her study walls, the uppermost shelves accessible by a brass ladder rail that ran around three walls. Behind the double glass doors, first editions mingled with contemporary works. Opposite her desk, a matching 1930s art deco sofa and chair bordered the edge of a Persian wool rug.

The understated elegance of the room and the rich, warm atmosphere afforded by the rare books and furniture filled her with pleasure.

Taking another mouthful of wine, she let the velvety liquid play over her tongue, then tapped a few keys. She always worked better when her senses were sated, and the wine was very smooth, its fruitiness underpinned with just a hint of earth and wood. She studied the screen intently. Reconnaissance was one of her favorite parts of

• 92 •

Justice for All

hacking into a remote system. Sending out probes and enumerating the OS parameters, generating port maps, looking for the forgotten opening—the chink in the armor, the way in. Cracking was very much like seducing a woman—teasing out her desires and her weaknesses and playing to them, until she invited you beyond her defenses. Those early encounters were so exciting that Talia rarely stayed beyond the moment of capitulation. Bedding a woman was certainly pleasurable, but far less rewarding than that explosive moment when the object of her campaign surrendered.

She smiled, thinking about Kratos Zamora and his persistent probing, his subtle forays into seducing her. He was an attractive man, a powerful one, and she enjoyed dominating powerful men almost as much as powerful women. But she didn’t trust him not to take a sexual encounter as a sign of weakness, and in her line of work, it was important never to appear weak. The weak were ultimately culled, and she had no intention of making herself vulnerable.

She sent another probe, not expecting instant results. She knew within moments of scanning the system that she wasn’t going to find something as simple as an open port or a weak password, so she didn’t even bother to try cracking JT Sloan’s authentication process by brute force. If she tried, the system log would undoubtedly trigger the activity, and for now, she preferred to remain anonymous. No system was unassailable, and eventually she’d find an insecure program to exploit or a way to write one to gain superuser status. Until then, she had other avenues to explore.

Leaning back in her Victorian leather desk chair, she regarded the image on the computer screen adjacent to the one still scrolling data.

She’d found the photograph in the archives of a tabloid newspaper and the picture was slightly out of focus, but the poor quality did nothing to detract from JT Sloan’s incredible charisma. Talia appreciated the jet black hair, slightly hooded deep-set eyes, and etched-in-marble features, but what ignited the excitement in the pit of her stomach was the wild ferocity in Sloan’s gaze. She’d been caught by a photographer as she climbed out of an ambulance, her hand clasping that of a woman on a stretcher. Captioned “Center City businesswoman victim of hit-and-run,” the brief article gave few details, but Talia didn’t need to see any more. It might take her some time to find the weakness in Sloan

• 93 •

RADclY fFe

Security’s computer network, but she’d already found the woman’s personal Achilles’ heel. She wondered how much the information would be worth to Kratos.

v

Mitch couldn’t tell if anyone in Ziggie’s was watching them, but he had to assume they’d attracted the attention of the men who controlled Irina and her girls. Possibly the Russian handlers, possibly Zamora’s men. The Zamoras would never have let outsiders set up competition in their territory unless they had a piece of the action, and Mitch had to trace that connection. But for now, he just needed to convince anyone checking them out that he and Irina were an item.

Irina wasn’t as small as Sandy, but her hips fit easily between his thighs. He rolled her tight round ass beneath his palms, molding her pelvis to his. She wore satiny slacks that fit her like skin and he could almost feel her sex gliding over his cock as if there were nothing between them. She pressed her breasts into his chest and her mouth against his ear.

“You promised to fuck me, new boy. But you lied.”

For a second, Mitch wasn’t certain Irina understood that he was a cop and had been acting last time. Then she reached between them, gripped his cock, and worked it around hard between his legs. Caught off guard, he groaned at the firestorm she started in his belly.

“I won’t forget,” she whispered.

“Sorry,” Mitch gasped.

She leaned back, relaxing her grip, and kissed him again. When she sucked his lower lip into her mouth, she bit down hard enough to make him wince. The pain quickly morphed into another jolt of pleasure and he struggled not to jerk back. Her kiss was brutal and arousing. Through half-closed lids, he saw the bartender watching them. He skimmed his fingers over the outer curve of Irina’s breast.

Her blouse vee’d deeply between her unfettered breasts and his thumb brushed her nipple. It was hard.

“Mmm,” Irina murmured, finally drawing away. Still firmly wedged between Mitch’s legs, she looked over Mitch’s shoulder with a seductive smile.

“Hello, Max.”

• 94 •

Justice for All

“Not working tonight?” the bartender asked, leaning on his outstretched arms as he stared.

Irina caressed Mitch’s cheek. “A little of both.”

“Huh,” the bartender grunted. “Where’s Olik?”

“I don’t know,” Irina answered, “I thought he would be here.”

“Haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”

His tone was as flat and unreadable as his smooth, solid features.

The conversation quickly put out the tension blazing in Mitch’s hard-on, and he was grateful for that. He didn’t need the distraction. He needed to get a handle on Irina’s game. He didn’t know the players, and he had to find out fast. The bartender seemed to be probing for information. Obviously, no one trusted anyone else, and neither Irina nor the bartender was giving anything away.

“Tell him to call me.” Irina stepped back from Mitch and gripped his hand. “Come on, new boy. You promised me a good time.”

“What’s your number,” the bartender called after her. “If he comes in.”

Irina looked back. “Olik knows.”

“So what if he forgot?”

“Then I’ll be here tomorrow night.”

Mitch dug a five out of his pocket and tossed it on the bar. His knuckles brushed along the length of his cock, and the feeling was both foreign and grounding. Irina was either a natural-born actress, or completely fearless. His stomach roiled, but he’d be damned if he’d let on how nervous he was. He slung his arm around Irina’s shoulders.