“You do,” Sloan exclaimed.

“Only as much as you let me.” Michael smiled a little sadly. “Now we need to go.”

Sloan let out a long breath and put the car in gear. “Let’s do this thing.”

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v

“You can leave your dick in the drawer,” Sandy said, crossing her arms beneath her small breasts. “Because Mitch isn’t going anywhere tonight.”

Dell pulled on her clean T-shirt and stared at Sandy. “What the fuck, San?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, still in her T-shirt and panties, Sandy said, “I heard Sloan say you don’t have any backup tonight. So you can’t work.”

“What else did you hear?” Dell grabbed a clean pair of black jeans from the pile of clothes Sandy had brought from her apartment. She didn’t exactly mean to keep secrets from Sandy, but she hated for her to get worked up about things that might happen. Or might not. And she definitely didn’t want her getting worked up over Irina. Like that was ever gonna happen. “Thanks for bringing clothes for me.”

“Let’s see. You were saying…” Sandy put a finger on her chin as if she were thinking. “Oh, right. You’ve also got a hard-on for Jasmine.”

“I do not!” Dell stuffed her T-shirt into her jeans and bent over to strap on her ankle holster before pulling on her motorcycle boots. “I just said she was hot. Merely an observation.”

“Oh yeah. Like a guy says a girl has great tits, but he’s not really thinking about getting his hands on them or anything.”

“I didn’t say she has great tits. Actually, I think she has a great mouth.” Dell ducked, laughing as Sandy grabbed the pillow from behind her and flung it.

“You blockhead.” Sandy flung the other pillow. “There’s no way Jasmine could ever give you the kind of blow job I can. I don’t care how pretty her mouth looks.”

Dell dropped to her knees in front of Sandy and wrapped her arms around Sandy’s waist. She pulled her to the edge of the bed until she could pillow her face against her breasts, then she nuzzled Sandy’s nipple through the thin cotton T-shirt. “Babe, nobody can do anything to me the way you can.” She tilted her head back and kissed Sandy’s chin. “How come you’re so grumpy?”

“Maybe because my girlfriend is spending every night with a girl who wants to get into her pants.” Sandy tugged a fistful of Dell’s hair,

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and her expression darkened. “Maybe because you’re coming home so wound up I’m afraid you’re going to get hurt out there.”

“Babe.” Dell stroked Sandy’s cheek. “I’m being careful. I promise.

And I’m going to be back early tonight. It’s just a quick check, okay?”

Sandy ran her fingertips over Dell’s eyebrows, then kissed her.

“Do what you have to. Just keep your dick on ice. ’Kay?”

“I will.” Dell stood and grabbed her motorcycle jacket. “I’ll be back really soon.”

Sandy waited until she heard the elevator go down, then headed for the shower. It was Saturday night, and she had things to do too.

v

Rebecca angled through the crowd toward Sloan, who stood next to the bar set up against one wall, cradling a glass of liquor in her hand.

The city’s wealthy and influential occupied most of the linen-covered tables filling the banquet hall. At the front of the room, a dais stood in the center of an elevated stage, flanked by two tables. Catherine and several board members from city and charitable organizations sat at one table. Michael sat at the other, between the mayor and Kratos Zamora, directly on her left. The police commissioner occupied the end seat next to Zamora.

After the obligatory mingling over hors d’oeuvres and drinks, dinner had been served and now the real work of the evening began.

Speakers took the stage in turns praising the mayor’s efforts to support the city’s poor and disenfranchised and strengthen the local economy.

Pleas were made for more donations and pledges of support for the mayor’s reelection campaign.

“Looks like the mayor’s got some important people on his side,”

Rebecca murmured. “Including our friend.”

“We pretty much already knew that,” Sloan said, clenching the glass in her hand as Zamora leaned close and said something that made Michael smile, even as she kept her eyes on the current speaker.

“Did you say anything to Michael about our interest in him?”

Rebecca asked.

“No.”

“His attention to her is just coincidental, then.” Rebecca watched Sloan carefully. From the moment she and Michael had arrived, she’d

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looked ready to explode. Anyone who didn’t know her as well as Rebecca did probably would have missed the signs. Her usual feline grace was absent. She moved instead with the wary precision of a trained martial artist on the verge of launching a killing blow. Coiled muscles and singular focus. And her prey was very obviously Kratos Zamora.

She hadn’t taken her eyes off him the entire evening. If he’d noticed, he gave no indication of it, but Rebecca had seen his bodyguards scanning the crowds. Their eyes continually returned to Sloan.

“His muscle has picked up on you,” Rebecca said.

“Fine.”

“You need to go outside. Take a walk around. Get some air.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You might as well be waving a banner with his name on it, saying

‘I’m after you.’”

Sloan slugged down her scotch. “You think they don’t know.”

“Probably they do. But we don’t need to take out an ad.”

“Fuck them.” Sloan finally took her eyes off Michael and focused on Rebecca. “Doesn’t it bother you? That they flaunt their invincibility?

That they spit on us while cozying up to the mayor and the police commissioner? When we know he’s dirty?”

“It doesn’t matter what we know. It matters what we can prove.”

“No,” Sloan said. “It matters what you can prove.”

“Times have changed. Men like him have become politicians.”

“What does that make men like the commissioner, then? Front men for felons?”

“I haven’t had dealings with the commissioner. He didn’t come up the ranks. It’s an elected position.”

Sloan held out a glass to the bartender for a refill. “And money buys votes.”

“You don’t need that drink,” Rebecca said. “But you need to tell me what lit your fuse.”

Sloan narrowed her eyes, challenging Rebecca. Rebecca was the team leader, but she wasn’t technically Sloan’s boss. Sloan still hadn’t decided whether to tell her about the surprise slide show. She trusted Rebecca, but she didn’t trust anyone else and she didn’t have any idea where the images were coming from. All she knew was that Zamora had gotten close to Michael. And someone was playing with her. She needed to know what they wanted, and why they were willing

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to use Michael to send a message. Until she knew, she wasn’t telling anyone who might further endanger Michael, willingly or unwillingly.

Including Rebecca. She cared about the investigation, she cared about justice. But she cared about Michael more.

Rebecca held her gaze, her blue eyes cool and steady. Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, as the seconds ticked by.

Sloan took a shuddering breath and carefully placed her untouched drink on the bar behind her. She needed to convince Rebecca nothing was going on.

“Sorry. He’s sitting next to Michael. It’s driving me crazy.”

“She’s safe here.”

“I want to send her out of town.”

“I don’t blame you. Maybe Catherine will go with her.”

Sloan laughed shakily. “Yeah, right.”

“There’s no reason to think she’s in danger. He’s an influential businessman. She’s the head of a multimillion-dollar corporation. They swim in the same waters. It makes sense that he’s friendly.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said dryly. “Friendly.”

With a hand on Sloan’s back, Rebecca steered her away from the bar and the occasional attendee who came for a refill. She didn’t want to spend too much more time talking to her, not with Zamora’s men watching, and Sloan seemed calmer now. “We’ll compare notes tomorrow as to who else he’s friendly with. I’ve got Watts on camera duty.”

Sloan rubbed her eyes. “Look. Sorry. I’m okay. I hate these goddamned things anyhow.”

“Me too. But we can tell Clark and the captain we’ve done our duty.” Rebecca squeezed Sloan’s shoulder. “And we’ve got a good look at his muscle. That might come in handy.”

“Yeah,” Sloan said, planning to search the security tapes at Michael’s office building for those same faces. “It might.”

v

Talia waited until the tall, sharp-eyed blonde moved away from Sloan. That would be the detective Kratos had told her about. Frye. A very capable-looking woman. Very intense. Very focused. Very cool.

Talia preferred her women hotter, although she knew the ones who

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seemed cool on the surface very often boiled over if you knew how to stoke their fires. She wondered what it would take to fire up the detective. She didn’t have to wonder about Sloan. It was written all over her face every time she looked at the woman next to Kratos. The woman Kratos had met for an impromptu business discussion the day before.

Talia picked up a glass of Burgundy from a passing waiter and gravitated toward Sloan. “I hate these things, don’t you?”

Sloan glanced at her and smiled politely. “I don’t think we’re supposed to admit that.”

“I’ll keep it a secret if you will.” Talia sipped her wine. It was better than average for affairs of this type. And Sloan was far more attractive in person than in her photos. Her body appeared to be solid muscle, and her eyes were the most startling shade of indigo-violet. With her dark hair and square jaw she exuded raw sexuality. Talia registered a spike of pleasure and struggled against the urge to touch her, but she let her interest show in her voice. “I’m quite good at keeping secrets.”