Justice for All

by Radclyffe

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Sandy checked her makeup in the bathroom mirror. The bruise along her jaw was still visible, but that wasn’t anything unusual for girls in her line of work. Her lip was puffy, but it didn’t hurt anymore. She cupped her breasts and jiggled them a little inside the tight white lycra top to get as much bang out of her minimal cleavage as she could. Then she shimmied into her miniskirt and pulled on knee-high white vinyl boots with three-inch heels.

  “You look like such a whore,” she said to her reflection, laughing as she gelled her hair into short blond spikes. For the first time in her life she felt like she was wearing a costume and not her work clothes.

  “Do you have any underwear on?” Mitch said from the doorway.

  She spun around and looked him over. He wasn’t dressed in his usual T-shirt and jeans tonight, but a tight-fitting black shirt with the top two buttons open, black pants that hugged his thighs and stretched across the bulge in his crotch, a slick black leather belt with a small square silver buckle, and black shoes.

  “Jesus, you look like a player.” She stared pointedly at his crotch. “Are you wearing any underwear?”

  “I asked you first.”

  Sandy thought about teasing him a little, but she knew he was still pissed off and they had serious work to do. “Yes. A thong. And no one is going to get close enough to find out. What about you?”

  “You can see for yourself later. How do your ribs feel?”

  “Baby,” Sandy said, “I wouldn’t have volunteered if I wasn’t ready.” She put her arms around his neck and kissed his ear. “Don’t be mad.”

  Mitch held her stiffly, his hands on her waist. “I know you don’t answer to anyone but the lieutenant, but I still wish you’d said something to me first.”

  “You know what? You’re right. I should have.” She skimmed his mouth with hers. “I wasn’t even sure she’d go for it. But I still should have told you what I was thinking first.”

  Mitch let out a sigh and rested his forehead against hers. “I know it makes the most sense for you to go with Jasmine tonight. They know you at Ziggie’s. I’m just worried.”

  “I know. But we’re only going to be watching who’s coming in and out. And keeping an eye on you and Irina.”

  “You haven’t seen us together before, San.”

  Sandy gripped his shoulders and leaned back, pressing her pelvis into his. She could feel the hard ridge of his cock pressing against her stomach. She liked the way it felt. She imagined that Irina did too, and even if she didn’t, she’d have to play like she did. “These guys are killers, Mitch. You think I’m going to care if you have to feel her up or she grabs your dick to prove to these guys that the two of you are together?” She gave him a little bump with her hips. “I love you, and I know you love me. End of story.”

  Mitch grinned. “Just the same, I’d appreciate it—if you notice any of the dick grabbing—if you’d look the other way.”

  “What makes you think I wouldn’t enjoy watching?”

  “Ha ha.”

  “Okay. Maybe that’s pushing it. Come on.” Sandy took his hand. “The lieutenant wants to brief us, right?”

  Mitch held her back. “Just trust me to do my job, okay? I know you know what you’re doing, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  Sandy stroked his cheek. “Right back at you, rookie.”

  *

  “Are you ready?” Mitch asked Irina as he opened the back door of Ziggie’s.

  “Yes,” Irina said. “I’m tired of belonging to them.”

  The hallway was dimly lit by a few low-wattage bulbs, and clouds of cigarette smoke swirled indolently in the air. The atmosphere was close and hot, smelling faintly of urine and liquor and sex. As they neared the end of the tunnel-like passageway, the ever-present bump and grind music grew louder. Two girls performed onstage, hip-thrusting and pole-humping in a weary parody of ecstasy. Even at midweek, the swivel stools at the bar were half full and most of the booths were occupied. Sex for sale never went out of style.

  “Have a good vacation?” the bartender asked snidely, eyeing Irina as he swiped a dirty rag over the surface of the bar.

  “Vodka shot and a beer,” Irina said, ignoring his remark.

  “Olik’s looking for you,” he said, making no move to get the drinks.

  Mitch straddled a stool with his back to the bartender and Irina snuggled in between his legs, leaning against the front of his body with her arms loosely draped around his waist. Her expression was bored.

  “I am here now.” She raised a brow. “Are you on vacation?”

  He snorted and went off to get their drinks.

  Irina ran her fingers through Mitch’s hair and scanned the bar. She wore a wraparound emerald green blouse that left a generous expanse of her full breasts bare and a tight black skirt that came to mid-thigh. With her heels she was almost as tall as Mitch.

  Mitch kissed her neck and murmured, “Any sign of our friends?”

  She arched her back and thrust her breasts against his chest, exposing more of her neck to his mouth. “Two men, Olik’s men…bodyguards, at the end of the bar. He must be here somewhere.”

  “What about the muscle we ran into the last time we were here?”

  “I don’t see him.”

  Mitch traced his tongue down the center of her throat. “Too bad.”

  Irina laughed and tugged his head back with her fist in his hair. “You are bad, new boy.”

  “Are you complaining?”

  “No.” Her eyes suddenly softened and the fingers in his hair slid down to caress his neck, catching Mitch off guard. Then her haughty expression returned. “Good boys bore me.”

  The bartender delivered their drinks. Irina handed the beer to Mitch, then picked up the shot of vodka and tossed it back.

  Mitch checked out the rest of the room as he sipped the beer. Jasmine and Sandy sat at a small round table not far from the stage. He started in surprise when he noticed Phil with them. That hadn’t been part of the plan, and he wondered if the King had arrived by himself. Looking for Irina, maybe. Sandy laughed at something Phil said and slid her chair closer to him, draping her arm around his neck. Phil grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. Sandy didn’t even glance in Mitch’s direction.

  “So this is your new bodyguard,” a deep male voice said from Mitch’s right.

  Mitch automatically shifted Irina in his arms, moving her away from the stranger who had walked up next to them. The man looked to be about forty, with broad shoulders and an irregular scar bisecting his left cheek that marred an otherwise coldly handsome face. His suit was expensive looking, and the watch on his left wrist appeared to be a Rolex. The tailored jacket nearly hid the weapon holstered on his right hip. He was not a street-level enforcer. Mitch smiled inwardly in satisfaction. Finally.

  “Mitch takes good care of me,” Irina said suggestively, rubbing his chest with her fingertips.

  The man who must be Olik looked Mitch up and down, his gaze lingering between Mitch’s legs. Then in a move so fast Mitch didn’t have time to react, he shot his hand out and gripped Mitch’s cock. Mitch sucked in a breath as pain bored into his pelvis from the pressure. He summoned all his willpower and said casually, “I don’t want to embarrass you in front of your men, so I suggest you let go.”

  Olik started to laugh but stopped abruptly when Mitch flicked his right hand and a switchblade dropped into his palm. Mitch thrust his arm forward until the point of the six-inch blade was a millimeter from Olik’s crotch. “Then again, I don’t really care if you lose face. Or…anything else.”

  With a growl, Olik released Mitch and stepped back out of knife range. “You have balls after all.”

  Irina laughed and caressed Mitch’s stomach, then let her fingers drift over the swell of his cock. “He has everything he needs.”

  “Come in the back.”

  *

  Sandy tensed when she saw the big man crowd Mitch, frustrated that she couldn’t make out
what was happening. The two men who’d been standing at the far end of the bar started toward Mitch and Irina. Three on one. She didn’t like it. Irina seemed to be taunting the guy, fondling Mitch with a self-satisfied look on her face. Sandy hoped to hell she knew what she was doing, because if she got Mitch hurt, Sandy was going to send her back to Russia personally.

  “I have to go to the bathroom,” Sandy said abruptly, climbing off Phil’s lap. She couldn’t take it anymore. She needed a closer look.

  “Oh, wait for me, honey.” Jasmine gripped her arm. “But I want to finish my drink first.”

  When Sandy started to protest, she caught the look in Jasmine’s eyes and checked the bar again. The big man had backed off, and Mitch and Irina were following him down the hall. The other two men were close behind them. Reluctantly, she settled back into Phil’s lap. For now, all she could do was wait.

  Phil circled her waist to steady her, but kept his hands to himself. “You and Mitch,” he said, his voice pitched low. “You’re not really done, are you?”

  “You see me with him?” Sandy shot back.

  “Nope.” Phil grinned. “So does that mean you’re going to give me a chance?”

  Sandy patted Phil’s chest. “I don’t know, baby. I think you might be too much guy for me.”

  He laughed. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. So, if you need anything.” He tilted his head slightly in the direction Mitch and Irina had disappeared. “Say the word.”

  “Thanks, but we’re cool.” Sandy just hoped she wasn’t lying.

  *

  Olik’s office was a converted storage room, with a plain desk, two file cabinets, a couple of straight-backed chairs, and an upholstered sofa that held the impression of a decade of asses pressed into the faded cushions. One of the two guards who’d followed them down the hallway stepped inside and closed the door. The other was probably outside in the hall making sure they weren’t disturbed. Olik rested his hips against the front of the desk and gestured to the sofa.

  “Sit down.”

  Mitch preferred to stay standing because he could fight better from that position, but he didn’t want to get into anything with Irina in the room, so he let her tug him down beside her on the sofa. Spreading his legs, he leaned back and stretched one arm along the back. He slung the other around Irina’s shoulders, pulling her close against his side. She crossed her legs, causing her skirt to ride up and expose a lot of creamy thigh. When she dropped her left hand casually onto the inside of his right leg, Olik’s gaze followed her hand.

  “The girls are getting out of hand. I want you to stay with them,” he said gruffly.

  “Until the police come for us like last time?” Irina scoffed. “I will stay where I am safe.”

  “You will stay where you are told.”

  “She stays with me,” Mitch said softly.

  “This is not your affair, boy.”

  “Irina is my business.”

  Olik gripped the desk on either side of his hips, his smile condescending. The outline of an erection was prominent beneath the expensive material of his trousers. “Maybe you should show me what you’ve got that Irina likes so much.”

  “That’s private,” Mitch said.

  “Irina,” Olik said, his voice low and dangerous. He drew back the edge of his jacket, exposing the automatic on his hip. “Explain to your boy who’s in charge.”

  “It’s all right, Mitch,” Irina whispered. “I know what he wants.”

  Before Mitch could protest, Irina shifted until she straddled his thighs, her skirt pulled tight across the junction of her pelvis. He gripped her hips automatically.

  “Irina, what—”

  Then Irina’s hands were in his hair and her tongue was in his mouth, and she was kissing him feverishly. For a second, he was too stunned to do anything but hold on to her while she rocked on his cock. He finally pulled out of the kiss and stared into her eyes. She was breathing fast and her lids drooped heavily.

  “It’s all right,” she murmured again, sliding a hand down to his belt buckle. “I don’t care if he sees.”

  She wasn’t acting. She wanted him to fuck her. And suddenly Mitch wasn’t thinking about Sandy, or the job, or Olik, or what was right or what was wrong. He was thinking about Irina, a woman he cared for. He could feel her heat through his pants. He looked down and saw the ridge of his cock nestled between her thighs. Irina tugged at his belt. Oh fuck, she really was going to take him inside her, right here.

  “Irina.” Mitch brushed his thumb across her full lower lip, then cradled her hips in his palms. He tensed his thighs and lifted her off his body, rising to his feet all in one motion. He stared at Olik. “I know how to treat a woman right. That’s why she prefers me.”

  Olik flicked his hand at the muscle by the door. “Show this boy how we treat disobedient dogs in our country.”

  The guy was twice Mitch’s size, but Mitch had fought big men before. The cadets at West Point only came in two sizes. Big and bigger. With men like this, there was no choice but to hit hard and hit fast. He wouldn’t get a second chance. With a leering smile, the Russian threw a looping haymaker and Mitch did exactly the opposite of what the guy expected. He stepped forward to the inside of the punch, blocked the big man’s forearm with his own, and rabbit punched him with a straight hard shot to the larynx. The Russian’s eyes bulged, he grabbed his throat with both hands, and sank to his knees. With a wet gurgling moan, he collapsed onto the dirty gray carpet.

  Mitch sidestepped as he toppled. “His larynx is fractured. He’ll drown on his own blood if someone doesn’t take him to the hospital.”

  The man thrashed on the floor and the front of his pants turned dark as he urinated. Olik cursed in Russian and strode to the door, yanking it open so hard it ricocheted off the wall. He snapped out something else in Russian and the man in the hall rushed in, grabbed the prone man under the arms, and dragged him out. Olik kicked the door closed and spun around.

  Mitch braced for the next round. Irina appeared beside him and put her arm around his waist. Olik stopped a few feet away, his face stony.

  “The girls would feel safer with Mitch on security,” Irina said. “He’s good and he’s not going to try to fuck them.”

  “You’ll supervise them. Go with them on their jobs? Make sure they behave?” Olik asked.

  “Da,” Irina said.

  Olik regarded Mitch. “You provide security when they travel.”

  Trying to appear nonchalant although his heart was pounding, Mitch said, “When Irina’s not working, she stays with me.”

  Olik nodded.

  “Okay then,” Mitch said. “When do we start?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Mitch keyed in the security code so he could park his Ducati inside Sloan’s building. When he turned around, Sandy stepped out of the alcove at the top of the stairs and headed his way.

  “What are you doing out here alone?” Mitch asked. “It’s the middle of the night and it’s freezing.”

  “I was hoping I’d get lucky.” Sandy linked her arm through his. “And I guess I did.” She tugged him into the shadows and kissed him. “Everybody’s here—upstairs rehashing tonight. I wanted to see you alone first.”

  Mitch rolled the bike in next to Sloan’s Harley on the other side of the Porsche and closed the overhead doors. Then he unzipped his jacket and leaned back against his bike. Sandy took off her jacket and dropped it over the handlebars. When she kissed him again she tasted a little like liquor and smelled like fresh snow. Her skin was cold and her mouth was hot. Mitch tightened his grip and buried his face in the curve of her neck.

  Sandy stroked his hair. “You okay, baby?”

  “Yeah.” He spoke without looking up. Olik had seemed satisfied with the agreement Irina had made to supervise the girls, but Mitch had taken Irina back to the apartment and waited for an hour to be sure she wouldn’t have any unwanted company. They didn’t talk about what had happened in the back room of Ziggie’s. They’d both done
what they’d had to do.

  “Irina handle things?”

  “She did fine.”

  “Was there trouble?” Sandy asked.

  “Some. Olik needed a little convincing that Irina and I were a package deal.” Mitch flexed his right hand and noticed for the first time that his knuckles were sore. Sandy caught the motion and grasped his wrist, drawing his hand up to the light.

  “You broke some skin over your knuckles. Got any bruises anywhere else?” Sandy asked casually. She didn’t want to fuss over him because she knew he needed to believe she had total faith in him. Her fears were hers to deal with, not to lay on him.

  “He never touched me,” Mitch said without much satisfaction. He’d thought he would feel better about taking one of these guys out, but he didn’t really. He’d realized as he watched the Russian flail on the floor, choking to death, that all he wanted was to put the guy behind bars. He didn’t need to deliver the punishment himself. “I hurt him pretty bad.”

  “Did he come after you?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sandy framed Mitch’s face so she could look into his eyes. “Then you did what you needed to do. Don’t feel bad.”

  Mitch smiled wryly. “I don’t. Not really.” He brushed his fingertips through the soft, short hair at her temple. “I saw you had a new boyfriend tonight.”

  “Phil?” Sandy laughed. “He is so all talk.”

  “Glad to hear that.” Mitch’s smile disappeared. “You okay about everything?”

  “Don’t talk in code, rookie.” Sandy poked his chest. “You mean am I having a fit about Irina—who happens to be very hot in the flesh, by the way—having her hands all over you?”

  Mitch nodded.

  “If I said I didn’t mind, you’d know I was lying. But I’m not having a fit either.” She leaned into him, her thighs against his thighs, her belly tight against his crotch. “When I was still working, you never told me not to. You made love to me when you thought I was still hooking. You loved me even when you thought I was giving my body away.”