Justice in the Shadows

by Radclyffe

  “I’m not nervous now.” Mitch’s voice was low, husky. He wanted to kiss her again, and this time he wanted to touch her. He’d wanted to touch her for so long.

  “Then it worked.” Sandy dared a quick peek into Mitch’s eyes. They were that dark, dark blue again. Hazy and hot. She liked knowing that look was for her. But she wasn’t ready for more. No one had touched her that way, ever. Not with the tenderness of Mitch’s mouth and Dell’s eyes. “You gonna feed me or not?”

  “Yeah.” Mitch’s throat ached with wanting her, but he’d always known it would be on her terms. It would have to be. She hadn’t ended up on the streets because life had been kind to her. He turned away and walked to a coat closet next to the front door. He pulled out his leather jacket, shrugged into it, and then held open a second, softer brown one. “It’s getting cold at night now.”

  Sandy hesitated and then turned to let Mitch slide the coat over her arms. For just a second, she leaned back against him. She felt the quicksilver brush of lips against her neck, and she shivered. “Thanks.”

  “Come on, girlfriend,” Mitch murmured close to Sandy’s ear. “Let’s go get that pizza.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sloan closed her eyes and rubbed her face wearily. The symbols on the screen had blurred to the point where she knew she’d miss something critical soon. She was alone in the CSI lab, and the quiet colluded with her exhaustion to lull her into torpor. Turning her head, she opened her eyes and focused on the large plain-faced clock on the far wall. Only twelve-forty. She was used to working long hours, and she shouldn’t be tired, not at a little after midnight. Except, of course, for the fact that she’d had almost no sleep for four nights running.

  She had managed a few fitful hours earlier in the evening, curled up with Michael in bed. Until dreams and demons had jolted her awake and she’d almost awakened Michael with her frantic attempts to assure herself that Michael was alive and breathing quietly by her side.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael murmured drowsily as Sloan’s hands coursed rapidly over her body. “Sloan? Love?”

  “Nothing,” Sloan said hoarsely, breathing hard, forcing herself to lie back against the pillows. Her heart was pounding so hard she was afraid Michael would feel it. “Go back to sleep.”

  “You’re trembling.” Michael moved to sit up and then gasped at the sharp lancet of pain that pierced her temple. “God, this rotten headache.”

  It was the first time Sloan could remember Michael complaining, and she realized that most of the time since Michael had regained consciousness, she’d been taking care of her. Nice, Sloan. Selfish bastard.

  “Dr. Torveau gave me a prescription for pain pills for you.” Sloan swung her legs over the side of the bed. “I’ll get you a glass of water, and you can take a couple of them.”

  Michael stopped her with a hand on Sloan’s arm. “No. I don’t want them. I hate painkillers. They make me so groggy.”

  “Just this once, okay, baby?” Sloan could see the pain in Michael’s eyes. Knowing she hurt made Sloan ill herself. Her stomach churned and her chest ached. Without the slightest bit of guilt, she tried the only ploy that she knew without doubt would work. “Will you do it for me?”

  Michael sighed. “All right, just this once—and only if you stay with me and rest. You’re worn out, Sloan. I can tell.”

  “Deal.” Sloan kissed her and went to fetch the pills.

  When Michael fell back to sleep with her head cushioned on Sloan’s shoulder, Sloan lay listening to her lover’s even, pain-free breathing until she was certain that the pills were working and that Michael would not awaken. Then she gently eased away from her and slid carefully from their bed. She dressed in the dark and opened by feel the small lockbox built into the closet floor. The weapon she assembled by touch, and that only took a few seconds. Then she clipped the holster to the back of her jeans, settled the automatic into it, and stole quietly from the loft.

  “One more scan,” Sloan muttered to herself, “then I’ll call it quits for the night.”

  She opened the root directory and searched for the activity log from the time period in question. Data scrolled by, all routine. So routine, in fact, that she almost did miss it. A password query, a series of them, and then a password change—followed by file access.

  Sloan jolted upright, her attention totally focused, her mind now absolutely clear. Fingers flying over the keyboard, she was quickly immersed in the data stream, functioning on a subconscious level, guided by the intuitive logic leaps that only the master hackers ever attained. She was on the trail of her quarry, and she was close.

  *

  Mitch looked around the small, dark, empty apartment. “I’ll be fine here tonight.”

  “Fuck that. You’re sleeping at my place.” Sandy tugged his arm toward the door. “There’s no furniture in here. What are you gonna do, crash on the floor?”

  “I’ll get a few things tomorrow. I won’t need that much.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m talking about tonight. You are not staying here.”

  Ignoring the fact that he’d never won an argument with Sandy yet, Mitch was too tired to argue. It had been nerve-wracking being out in public with her, even though they had hung out in the Tenderloin around Thirteenth and Arch where just about anything goes. No one had seemed to pay them any attention as they’d walked around, Mitch with his arm around Sandy’s waist, Sandy with a thumb hooked over his belt in the back. Despite their apparent anonymity, Mitch had been on constant alert, and the tension had given him a headache. And that was only part of the problem. For three hours, Sandy had been all over him, and it was driving him crazy.

  When they got to the pizzeria at Eleventh and Sansom, they ambled to a back booth and took off their jackets. Sandy slid in on Mitch’s side, instead of across from him as usual, and leaned against him.

  “Help ya?” a heavyset woman on the down side of forty asked in a bored voice a few seconds later.

  “A small chee—” Mitch’s voice cracked as he felt a hand travel up the inside of his thigh. He made a grab for it under the table, trying to keep his face blank. “Cheese...pizza.”

  “Drink?” If the waitress saw anything, it apparently wasn’t anything new, because she didn’t even raise an eyebrow.

  “Two beers,” Sandy said sweetly as she rubbed her right breast against Mitch’s bare arm. The light friction made her nipple harden under the thin cotton, and her smile widened as she heard Mitch gasp.

  “Coming right up,” the woman said flatly and lumbered away.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Mitch snapped as soon as the waitress was out of earshot.

  “Hey, you’re my boyfriend, right?” Sandy replied disingenuously, refusing to let him move her hand from his crotch. “I’m just, you know, acting natural.”

  “Cut it out.” Sandy’s fingers were an inch from his cock. It was going to be a big problem if she started fooling with that because he had a feeling she could make him come. Easily. Right there. “Sandy, come on. I’m having a hard time here.”

  Sandy leaned back and peered into his eyes, serious for an instant. “How come? Is it—you know—uncomfortable?”

  Mitch grinned, a frustrated grin. “Yeah, you could say that. And you’re not helping.”

  “You’re such a guy,” Sandy scoffed. “I’m not even touching it, for Christ’s sake.”

  “But I’ve been touching you,” Mitch said softly. “That’s enough.”

  Sandy’s lips formed a soundless oh. She stopped fighting Mitch’s restraining hand and moved hers further down his thigh, away from his crotch. “You know, you are maybe the sexiest person I’ve ever met.”

  “Is it...just tonight?” Mitch glanced down at the swelling in his crotch, and Sandy followed his gaze.

  “No, stupid. It is not just tonight.” Sandy rolled her eyes. “It’s every night.”

  Mitch breathed a little easier.

  “What? Did you think it’s just because of what you’ve got in your
pants?” Sandy’s voice was sharp edged and hard. “You think that’s what I want?”

  “I—” Mitch looked away.

  “Oh, man. You are such a blockhead. Like I can’t get enough cock if I wanted it.” Sandy smiled up at the waitress who stood holding their beers, listening intently now. “Thank you so much.”

  “Sure, honey.” She glanced from Mitch to Sandy, then shrugged and walked away.

  Sandy sipped her beer, then regarded Mitch steadily. “It wasn’t my idea we start dating. But it’s no hardship, okay?”

  Mitch saw the smile in her eyes and smiled back. “Same here.”

  “Good. So act like you’re having fun.”

  Oh. I’m having fun. I’m having a lot more than that. Mitch put his hand over Sandy’s where it rested on his thigh and drew it a little higher. “Anything you say.”

  And for the next two hours, Sandy had proceeded to touch him every chance she could. She rubbed her hand up and down his back while they walked, squeezed his butt from time to time, and sidled up to him when they stopped to look in the window of a video store, her pelvis pressed to his hip, her breasts against his arm, her fingers stroking his abdomen just above his pants. When they ended the evening in a neighborhood bar because Sandy had said it would be good for them to be seen together, she’d practically climbed into his lap. All of which had left his nerves shattered and his body screaming for relief.

  Much more of anything from her, and he was going to come out of his skin.

  “Okay, fine,” Mitch conceded as they walked down the short dingy hall and into the startling warm oasis of Sandy’s apartment. “I’ll crash on your floor. At least it’s clean.”

  Sandy regarded him steadily. “You can sleep with me.”

  She turned and pulled out the sleeper bed. It was neatly made up with bright sheets and a blanket. She pulled the covers back and lifted two pillows from a low shelf on the other side.

  “I can’t.” Mitch’s voice was low, nearly mournful.

  “Why not?”

  “Sandy, for God’s sake.” Jesus, she never makes anything easy. “I’m gay.”

  Sandy’s smile when she looked back at the handsome drag king was oddly tender. “No foolin’. So? Can’t you be good?”

  “Usually.” Mitchell blew out a frustrated breath, rubbing at the restraining Ace on her chest. I want you to touch me so bad. If you’re next to me...“But not tonight. I’m so wound up...I...I just don’t think I can.”

  “Well, I’m not worried.” Sandy took a step closer, which in the tiny room brought them within touching distance. “And I’m not scared.”

  Mitchell’s heart tripled-timed. “Well, I am.”

  “Does that hurt?” Sandy asked with concern, pointing to Mitchell’s chest. “You’ve been rubbing it.”

  “Itches.”

  Sandy took Mitchell’s hand. “Come over here and sit down.”

  “Sandy...”

  “Be quiet, Dell,” Sandy said as she put both hands on Mitchell’s shoulders and gently forced her down on the edge of the bed. Then she knelt between Mitchell’s legs and reached for the bottom of the white T-shirt. Her belly brushed the leather between Mitchell’s thighs.

  “I’m so turned on,” Mitchell confessed in a whisper. “You’re making me so nuts, I can’t stand it.”

  “Good.”

  When Sandy pulled the shirt from her pants, Mitchell closed her eyes and leaned back on her elbows, unable to do anything but surrender. Her stomach was in knots, her skin on fire, her clitoris full and hard and pounding. Whatever this was, whatever this wasn’t—no matter what anyone said—she needed it. Needed Sandy’s small hands on her, needed that warm mouth...

  “Oh Jesus,” Mitchell moaned as Sandy leaned forward and kissed her abdomen. “Your lips are so soft.”

  “Mmm, so’s your skin,” Sandy murmured, licking a circle around the tight navel. Her breasts rested against Mitchell’s fly, and she rubbed them back and forth slowly as she worked her lips over the taut muscles. “You taste good.”

  The weight of Sandy’s body pressing into Mitchell’s crotch forced the firm form in her pants harder against her straining flesh. Discomfort became acute stimulation, and her clitoris twitched with warning spasms.

  “Wait...wait a second,” Mitchell uttered in desperation, one hand cradling Sandy’s cheek, the other reaching for the fly of her leathers. “Let me get this out of here.”

  Sandy grasped her hand and looked up. “Leave it for a little while. It’s sexy.”

  Mitchell blushed and met Sandy’s eyes. “It’s not...it won’t work.”

  “I don’t need it to work, idiot.” Sandy pulled the T-shirt over Mitchell’s head and reached for the tape holding the Ace wrap in place. “I know who you are, Dell.”

  Mitchell looked down as Sandy carefully released her breasts, the blond head bent over her naked flesh. With trembling fingers, Mitchell stroked Sandy’s cheek, then ran her thumb over the full pink lips. Sandy bit the tip of her thumb, and Mitchell’s thighs tightened. When Sandy brushed her fingers over her nipples, Mitchell tensed and cried out. “Oh, that feels so good.”

  “Yeah,” Sandy’s breath came faster, her hands shaking as she flattened her palms over the small firm breasts, massaging them gently, then cradling both, her thumbs moving automatically back to the tight pink nipples. Moaning in surprise, she felt herself get wet. She hadn’t really expected that. All night, she’d told herself she was just playing with Mitch to get him used to being treated like a guy. But she’d enjoyed it—more than enjoyed it. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, but she’d been hot all night. And she wanted Dell now, wanted her the way she hadn’t thought herself capable of wanting anyone—not this way—not in her body, in her blood. “Oh yeah, you feel so fucking good.”

  Through eyes gone dim with arousal, Mitchell watched Sandy suck a hard nipple into her mouth, and the sight and sensation drove her close to the edge. She pushed her hips into Sandy, and Sandy thrust back, soft cries escaping her now, too. “Sandy...Sandy...that’s gonna make me come.”

  Sandy lifted her head, laughing wildly, her eyes glittering with exhilaration. “No way, rookie. You’ll come when I want you to come.”

  Lids flickering closed, Mitchell arched her back and lifted her hips. The first tremors of orgasm teased along her spine. “No...I’m com...”

  With both hands, Sandy pushed Mitchell back on the bed and quickly shifted away, knowing that the pressure of her body was too much for Mitchell to handle. “Dell,” she said firmly, moving from between Mitchell’s legs and stretching out beside her. “Come on, Dell, look at me.”

  Whimpering faintly, dangling on the brink of exploding, Mitchell turned her head and sought Sandy’s gaze. “Please, Sandy...please.”

  “Mmm,” Sandy murmured, leaning close, her hand on Mitchell’s abdomen now, slowly circling. “You are so sexy when you’re hot, you know that? I wanna keep you this way for a while.”

  “I’m gonna die...” Mitchell ached for the feel of skin against her skin, for Sandy’s flesh beneath her hands. She still hadn’t touched Sandy, and Sandy had not removed her clothes. “Will you let me touch you?”

  She asks? Sandy’s eyes grew wide, her lips parting in a combination of surprise and desire. “Oh, Dell—”

  They both jerked as a shrill ring pierced the room. Mitchell stiffened as Sandy cursed.

  “Motherfucker.”

  “What is it?” Mitchell asked, her stomach so tight with unrequited need she thought she’d be sick.

  “My phone.” Sandy’s voice was wild.

  “Ignore it.” Mitchell drew Sandy’s hand down to her fly and pressed her fingers to the swelling there. She whimpered; she couldn’t help it. “Please.”

  The sound shrilled again.

  “No—it’s my phone. Jesus Christ.” Sandy was having trouble thinking clearly. She was so excited her brain was mush. “Frye’s phone. That’s her calling.”

  Mitchell went cold. “She gave you a phone?”
<
br />   Sandy pulled away, her eyes narrowing as she stared at Mitchell. “Yes, she gave me a phone.”

  The phone rang a third time and Sandy lunged for her purse. “Yeah, what?” she snapped, trying to sound normal while her entire body was about to melt.

  “How you doin’, Sandy?”

  “Peachy.” Sandy glared at Mitchell, who had sat up and was pulling on her T-shirt in quick angry motions.

  “Did you get Mitchell squared away?”

  “Yeah.” Sandy laughed without humor. Oh yeah, I took care of her all right. Fuck.

  “I have money for you.”

  “Give it to Mitchell. She put up the rent.”

  “I will, tomorrow. I have money for you tonight.”

  Sandy took a long breath. She needed that money to pay her own rent. She followed Mitchell with her eyes as the cop rose a bit unsteadily and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Plus I still need the street intel on those filmmakers. You owe me a lead.”

  “You always want something, don’t you, Frye?”

  “We have a deal.”

  “Okay. When?”

  “How about right now?”

  Sandy panicked. “You can’t come up here.”

  “I wasn’t going to.” A beat of silence. “What’s the matter? You got someone up there with you?”

  Oh no, just Dell with a hard-on and pissed as hell. Jesus, she’d probably go for your throat right now. Sandy made a fast decision. “A john.”

  The bathroom door opened. Mitchell stepped out, her face free of make-up, a small plastic bag she’d found in Sandy’s cabinet in her hand. She stuffed the bag with her drag gear into the inside pocket of her motorcycle jacket, her eyes on Sandy.

  “That wasn’t the deal. You work for me, you don’t turn tricks.”

  “So sue me.”

  “I could come over and bother your company.”

  “Look, I’ll meet you right now.”

  Another pause. “Okay. Woody’s, in the back room.”