Justice in the Shadows

by Radclyffe

  “Like you usually do.”

  “All right. So I never do.” Catherine drew Rebecca’s hand to her breast. “It’s a habit I might consider cultivating.”

  Rebecca’s eyes darkened, and she brought her mouth to the stiff nipple as she gently squeezed Catherine’s breast. Catherine’s hands in her hair pulled her face away. Surprised, Rebecca looked up. “What?”

  “I have to go to work soon. Don’t get me started again.”

  “We never finished.”

  “Yes, we did.” Catherine laughed. “Several times, but who’s counting.”

  Rebecca laughed, too, and pulled Catherine into her arms as she leaned back. She stroked her lover’s hair, aware of a strange new emotion. Contentment. “I’ll be late tonight.”

  “Has something happened?” Catherine asked carefully. She wanted to say, Don’t go out. Stay here. Let me close my eyes knowing you’re safe. Let me fall asleep in your arms.

  “Not yet, but soon. Mitchell is going out undercover again, and I want to be nearby. I can’t leave her out there alone. She’s a kid.”

  “Do you trust her?”

  “Yes. But she’s still wet behind the ears. And, Jesus, she’s a hothead.” Rebecca laughed quietly. “I thought I was going to have to sit her down today. But she’s got spine, and she doesn’t back away from the truth.”

  Two qualities Catherine knew mattered a great deal to her lover. “Be careful, hmm?”

  “What, with Mitchell?” Rebecca asked, thinking about all she had said, almost without meaning to, when she and the young cop had talked.

  “No, my sweet detective, you.”

  “Oh.” Rebecca kissed her. “Of course.”

  “I know you always take good care of all your people.”

  Rebecca sighed. “Earlier today, I more or less ordered Mitchell to see you.”

  “See me? Professionally?” Catherine stirred, then leaned away to watch Rebecca’s face. When her lover nodded, she asked, “Why?”

  “She’s carrying something around in her that needs healing. I figured you could help.”

  For a minute, Catherine was speechless. “Ordering someone to undergo therapy isn’t usually the best way to start that process.” Her tone was mild, but her eyes were deeply serious.

  “Maybe not, but she’s about to fuck up her career. I gave her a choice.”

  “Me or what—traffic patrol?”

  “Something like that.” Rebecca grinned again.

  Catherine sighed. “Rebecca, darling—”

  “It’s not as bad as it sounds. I said she could see anyone she wants, and that whether she did or not was up to her. I wouldn’t check up on her.” Rebecca brushed her fingers over Catherine’s cheek. “Okay?”

  “It seems it’s a done deal.”

  “Probably.” Rebecca shrugged. “Oh, and she said she knows about us.”

  “Ah. Well.” Catherine curled back into Rebecca’s body. “Grist for the mill.”

  “Huh?”

  “It’s a therapy saying. Anything that comes up in therapy, even if it’s personally difficult for the therapist or a challenge to the client-therapist relationship, is an avenue for potential benefit if handled correctly.”

  Rebecca gave that some thought. “I’d rather be shot.”

  For the first time since the shooting, Catherine found herself laughing when Rebecca said it. She rolled onto her lover and kissed her, a kiss that soon deepened and grew hungry. “Oh dear,” she gasped.

  “Uh-huh,” Rebecca muttered, wrapping her arms around Catherine and turning until she was on top. “Oh dear, indeed.”

  *

  “Aren’t you hungry?” Sandy asked.

  “What?” Mitchell looked up from her barely touched dinner. “Oh, yeah. I am.” She picked up her chopsticks, then set them down with a sigh. “Not really.”

  Sandy tipped back her beer bottle and drained it. “So. What’s up?”

  Mitchell shrugged. “Nothing.”

  They had sat by silent agreement on the same side of the table in the booth at Chen’s. For most of the meal, Sandy had kept one hand on Mitchell, stroking the tight denim over her lean thigh. Now, Sandy nudged her girlfriend’s shoulder with hers. “Dell. Come on.”

  Mitchell met Sandy’s inquiring gaze with worried blue eyes. “Look, will you just please promise not to go off to some meeting with this porno guy without checking in? Just do that?”

  “Ah, jeez, Dell. Not that again.”

  “What if something happens, and we don’t know where you are?”

  Sandy put her hand back on Mitchell’s leg and leaned close. “Nothing’s going to happen. Trudy will take me to meet the guy. I’ll say, Oh yes, I’d love to take off my clothes and suck your dick, and then he’ll say, Great, I’ll pick you up at such and such a time, blah blah blah. Then you and Frye and Bluto will kick his ass.”

  Mitchell smiled despite the unease that was burning holes in her gut. “Bluto?”

  “Yeah, well—you know who.”

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “I’m a big girl, rookie. Don’t worry.”

  “You’re not used to being undercov—”

  “Oh, and you are?” Sandy huffed.

  “That’s differe—”

  “Dell,” Sandy said quietly. “Do you think I like getting into cars and giving some jumpy accountant or sweating redneck a hand job?”

  Mitchell’s jaw tightened. “No.”

  “You’re right. But they think I love it.” Sandy looked away, then met Mitchell’s eyes directly. “I spend most of my life acting.”

  “Why do you do it?” There was no accusation in Mitchell’s voice, only a desire to understand.

  “Simple. For the money.” Sandy shrugged. “I made a lot before...look, we said we wouldn’t—”

  “Before what?”

  Sandy hesitated. “Before I stopped screwing for it. The quick and easy stuff doesn’t pay as well.”

  “When? When did you stop?”

  “Right after Anna Marie was...killed.”

  Mitchell reached beneath the table and squeezed Sandy’s hand. “I’m sorry. About your friend. Not about the other, though.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “So,” Mitchell said softly, playing with Sandy’s fingers. “Will you just try, really try to call Frye if anything goes down. I...I can’t take thinking about you getting hurt again.”

  “Okay, baby, okay.” Sandy leaned into Mitchell and kissed her, her hand sliding to Mitchell’s stomach and then around her waist. As her tongue met Mitchell’s, she whimpered faintly and half climbed into Mitchell’s lap.

  “Home,” Mitchell gasped when Sandy finally broke the kiss. “Home—we gotta go home.”

  Breathing hard, Sandy rubbed her hand over Mitchell’s middle, then down the front of her jeans. “Yeah? To do what?”

  Mitchell fumbled for her wallet, her hands shaking. “Take off our clothes, roll around—you know.”

  “Oh, okay.” Sandy tugged lightly on Mitchell’s waistband, grinning at the hazy need in Mitchell’s eyes. “Then we can dress Mitch.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” Mitchell moaned.

  Laughing, Sandy tugged her from the booth by the hand. “Come on, rookie. You got business to tend to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chen’s House of Jade was ten blocks from Sandy’s apartment. The motorcycle ride was short but still long enough for Sandy to drive Mitchell nearly out of her mind. The instant Sandy climbed onto the back of the bike, she wrapped one arm around Mitchell’s middle and slid the other hand between Mitchell’s legs. With Sandy rhythmically squeezing her through the tight denim stretched across her crotch, Mitchell had no choice but to keep both hands on the bike. Since her mind was half gone, she needed the other half—and every ounce of her physical stamina—to keep the machine upright and on the road. Which left her completely at the mercy of Sandy’s wandering hands.

  They tumbled off the bike in front of the row house and staggered up the stairs
, their arms around one another’s waists. Once in the stairwell, Sandy plastered her body against Mitchell’s and pinned her to the wall.

  Mitchell groaned. Sandy had a way of pressing the edge of her hip between Mitchell’s legs, hitting just the right spot to send the blood draining from Mitchell’s brain to directly between her thighs. That, combined with Sandy’s warm hands beneath her shirt, all over her breasts, was driving her swiftly insane.

  “Sandy...ah, God...not until we get upstairs.” In self-defense, Mitchell grabbed Sandy’s shoulders and pushed her away. “Jesus, anybody could walk in.”

  “Even if they do, all they’ll do is look.” Sandy made a grab for Mitchell’s crotch.

  “Well, I don’t want them looking at you,” Mitchell snapped, her temper fraying as her stomach churned with arousal. She grabbed Sandy’s hand and pulled her up the stairs. By the time they reached the third-floor landing, they were bouncing off the walls—first one of them, then the other—stopping to touch and fondle and kiss in a frenzy of need.

  Somehow, Sandy got the key in the lock with Mitchell’s mouth still glued to hers, and they fell through the doorway into her apartment. In the next second, Mitchell had her up against the door.

  “You make me crazy. You make me so fucking crazy.” Mitchell felt as if something inside of her was going to explode. She wanted Sandy, craved her, desperately needed her. Unexpectedly, miraculously, Sandy had managed to reach through all the bullshit in Mitchell’s life and had touched the critical core, the place where she lived and dreamed and, sometimes, was terribly afraid. Sandy was tough and brave and gentle and sweet, and Mitchell had been so lonely for so long.

  Sandy’s hands were in her hair—yanking her head down, kissing her, plunging into her mouth, demanding and fierce. Mitchell shoved her hips into Sandy’s, and Sandy shoved back, their passion clashing in frantic, furious thrusts. Moaning, Mitchell brought her mouth to Sandy’s neck and caught the tender skin in her teeth as she slid her hand beneath the edge of the short leather skirt, gliding up the silky thigh, cupping the sliver of thin fabric soaked with desire.

  “Oh yeah,” Mitchell groaned. “Oh yeah.”

  Sandy dug her fingers into Mitchell’s shoulders and rocked against her hand, making small broken sounds of pleasure.

  Mitchell couldn’t get enough. Thighs spread wide on either side of Sandy’s legs, she brought the other hand beneath the skirt, bunching it high on Sandy’s small waist as she poised to enter her. And then, in an instant of shattering clarity, she saw it again.

  He had one hand around her throat and the other under her skirt. Her thighs were bare, pale, ghostly in the moonlight...there was blood on her face...

  Gasping, Mitchell stumbled away. “Oh my God. Oh...Jesus.”

  Stunned, Sandy stared in confusion. Breathing hard, barely able to speak, she croaked, “What? Dell, what?”

  Mitchell looked down at her hands, appalled, then back at Sandy. “I’m sorry...so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

  “What are you talking about? Hurt me?” Sandy reached out with a trembling hand. “No. No, never.”

  “I had you pushed against the wall...I was about to push inside you. Just like...Jesus, Sandy...” Her eyes were wounded, suffering, tormented. “Just like him.”

  “You are not like him.” Sandy’s voice was steady and hard as steel. “You will never be like him, like them.” She tilted her head, narrowed her eyes. “You’ve been holding back with me, haven’t you, Dell? You’ve been being careful.” She said the word like an insult.

  “I...no, I...” Mitchell couldn’t think. Her body wasn’t her own, and her mind was in shambles. “Sandy, I love you.”

  “Then love me, Dell. I don’t need you to protect me.” With her eyes riveted to Mitchell’s, Sandy slipped out of the black jacket, dropped it on the floor, and in one fluid motion, removed her top. Then she was nude except for her minuscule black leather skirt and black heels. Her voice was heavy, dark, commanding. “You want something, Dell? You come and get it.”

  Before her next heartbeat, Mitchell was on her knees at Sandy’s feet, pushing up the leather skirt with both hands. With a startled cry, Sandy braced herself against the door with her palms flat against the wood.

  Mitchell didn’t ask permission or even wonder if it was all right. In one seamless movement, she slid her fingers beneath the sheer black silk, pushed it aside, and took Sandy into her mouth. She heard Sandy cry out and felt fingers drive into her hair again, but she was oblivious to everything except the scent of desire and the taste of excitement and the pulsing feverish urgency of Sandy’s body.

  “Dell, Dell, Dell...” Sandy chanted wildly as she felt herself coming, unable to stop the onslaught of pleasure. Light-headed, trembling, she leaned her head back as colors flared behind her closed lids and heat flashed along her spine. “Oh, baby, you’re making me come so hard...”

  With Sandy’s clitoris throbbing beneath her lips, Mitchell entered her, full and hard and deep. She sucked her, tormented her with her teeth, and nearly lifted her from the floor with the force of her thrusts. She didn’t stop, might never have stopped, if Sandy hadn’t finally collapsed, bent double over her body.

  Panting, still in the throes of blind lust, Mitchell fell back on her heels and caught Sandy in her arms as they both tumbled to the bare wood floor. Mitchell managed to cushion Sandy’s fall and gathered her close. “Okay?” Fighting for breath, she repeated urgently, “Honey, you okay?”

  Sandy’s only response was to press her fingers to Mitchell’s mouth.

  Mitchell kissed her forehead, her closed lids, her mouth, rocking her gently. A minute before she’d wanted only to take her, claim her, own her, and now she felt a tenderness so profound she ached with an entirely different kind of desire. She wanted to protect her, shelter her, keep her from harm. Always. “You turn me inside out.”

  Sandy’s head lolled back in the curve of Mitchell’s arm, and she lazily opened her eyes, a satisfied smile on her face. “Yeah? You’re pretty amazing when you don’t hold back, you know.”

  Mitchell ducked her head, shrugging. “I’ve never been...like that before.”

  “Must be the company.” Sandy nuzzled Mitchell’s breast through the thin cotton T-shirt, finding the small erect nipple and tweaking it with her teeth. She murmured appreciatively when Mitchell gasped. “I like you when you’re crazy.”

  “Is that why you’re always trying to get me that way?”

  “Mmm,” Sandy murmured as she brought her hand between Mitchell’s thighs, rubbing her gently. “No. I do it because I like you to make me come.”

  Mitchell laughed out loud. “All you have to do is ask—but I like it when you do it, no matter what the reason.” Gently, she grasped Sandy’s wrist and moved her hand from between her legs.

  “Hey!” Sandy pulled away from Mitchell’s breast and gave her a hard stare. “What’s that about?”

  “I came already...when I was inside you.”

  Sandy’s eyes grew huge, and her mouth opened soundlessly. After a second, she shook her head and burrowed into Mitchell’s shoulder with both arms wrapped tightly around her. “You better be for real, rookie.”

  “I am,” Mitchell whispered. “I promise.”

  *

  “Mitch? Mitch, you okay?”

  Mitch blinked and focused on the bare breasts two feet in front of his face. Quickly, he averted his gaze and turned to Jasmine. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “I have a feeling she’d like you to look a little more interested.” Jasmine studied the drag king with some concern. “You seem a little bit out of it.”

  “Just tired.” It was after three in the morning, and he hadn’t had much sleep the night before. Knockdown, drag-out sex with Sandy had pretty much taken everything he had left. After Jasmine’s show at the Troc, Jasmine and all the kings had gone barhopping. Ziggie’s was their last stop. By then, Mitch was bleary eyed with fatigue.

  “You need to be sharp,” Jasmine said as she leaned close and reste
d her hand on Mitch’s thigh. With her lips close to Mitch’s ear and her hand roaming over his leg, anyone watching would have thought they were lovers, which was just what she intended. “You lose focus, you’ll be in trouble.”

  Mitch tilted his chin and kissed the corner of Jasmine’s mouth. Then he moved his lips along her jaw and murmured, “I got it. I faded out a little, but I’m okay now. Thanks.”

  Jasmine nuzzled Mitch’s neck. “Frye will have my ass if anything happens to you.”

  “Mine, too, if there was anything left of it.” Mitch blew softly in Jasmine’s ear. “You can probably take your hand off my dick now.”

  Jasmine laughed and settled back in her seat. “I never get to play with any of the boys.”

  Phil, sitting to her left, heard the remark and immediately replied, “You can play with me any time you want.”

  Laughing, Mitch stood and stretched, then pulled a dollar from the pocket of his leather pants, reached out, and tucked it into the barely-there red G-string of the woman dancing just in front of him.

  “You coming back, hot stuff?” she purred as she swiveled her hips suggestively.

  “I will if you’ll still be here.”

  As she moved away, she tossed a look over her shoulder in his direction. “I’ll be back...and I’ll be ready.”

  “I’ll be waiting.” Mitch glanced at the other kings and Jasmine. “I’m gonna grab another beer.”

  I need to get someone to talk to me, not just flirt with me. I need to make something happen.

  *

  “There’re so many things wrong with this picture, I don’t even know where to start.” Rebecca balanced her third cup of coffee since midnight on her knee and gave Watts a wordless stare.

  He returned her gaze with righteous indignation. “I’m a D-two, and I’m sitting on my ass out here in the cold while a wet-behind-the-ears rookie is inside where it’s nice and warm.”

  “You’d look...” Rebecca shuddered, “out of place in leather pants. So you’re with me out here in the cold, and if you want to make detective-three, you’ll act happy to be along.”