Justice Served

by Radclyffe

  “What?” Sandy snapped. “Before someone dumps her in an alley?”

  “And,” Rebecca went on with no change in expression, “see if I can get her into a program or shelter somewhere.”

  Sandy looked as if she were going to retort, but stared down into her coffee instead. After a long moment of silence, she looked up into Rebecca’s face. “I’ll ask around. She wasn’t that hard to find the first time.”

  Rebecca nodded.

  “Dell’s not ready for the street. The doctor said she was going to be weak because of losing blood and stuff.”

  Still Rebecca said nothing.

  “She wants to fucking be just like you.” Sandy’s eyes flashed. “Tough, like nothing ever hurts and nothing could ever hurt her.”

  “She’s a cop, Sandy.” Rebecca spoke quietly, her tone even and mild. “You’re going to have to accept that about her if you’re going to be with her.”

  Her words took them both by surprise, and they blinked simultaneously.

  “Christ,” Rebecca muttered, realizing that she’d had almost the same conversation with Mitchell about Sandy just days before. It was crazy, the two of them together. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to split them up. There were things that she could do, including threatening Mitchell’s career, to force them apart, but she hadn’t done that. When she considered it, as she did in this moment, Catherine’s face came into view—disappointment and sorrow in her eyes. “Look, I don’t want to know about you two. Keep your personal stuff personal, and just let Mitchell do her job.”

  “I’m not going to let her get her head blown off,” Sandy said vehemently.

  Rebecca leaned forward over the table, her hands not quite touching Sandy’s, their faces inches apart. “If you want her to be safe, then don’t make her crazy. She has to go out the door every day knowing that you’ll be there when she comes back. If you can’t give her that, then let her go now.”

  Sandy’s eyes widened. “Jesus. Who are you?”

  Wordlessly, Rebecca held Sandy’s searching gaze.

  “I heard Dell say that sometimes an older cop takes a rookie under their wing and helps them out. It’s some kind of special big-deal relationship. Rabbi, she said. Is that what you are now?”

  “Something like that.”

  “So you’re sending her out there with nothing but her dick in her hand?”

  Rebecca had to work to suppress a smile, just imagining how Mitchell would respond to this conversation. “She’ll have backup. Most of the time, Jasmine will be with her.” She held out a hand before Sandy could protest. “And she’s a natural. She’s one of the best undercover cops I’ve ever seen.”

  “Can I say you said that?”

  “No.”

  Sandy grinned. “Man, she’d like to know you think that. But I don’t plan on telling her. She’d be impossible.”

  “Good. You hungry?”

  “Yeah.”

  Rebecca waved a waitress over and ordered two burgers with fries and Cokes. While they waited, she said, “I don’t want you hooking.”

  “I’m not going there again,” Sandy said flatly. “I can’t work the streets and not hook. That’ll get me killed faster than anything.”

  “You’ll just have to fake it.”

  Sandy laughed. “Fake blowing some guy in an alley? You think he might notice if I don’t do anything except stare at his hard-on?”

  “I don’t want you doing anybody in alleys or backseats of cars or three-dollar rooms in ten-dollar flophouses. If you run into someone you know, tell them you just finished with a trick. Since you don’t have a pimp, nobody’s keeping score.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “You’re out of business, Sandy.” Rebecca’s tone held absolutely no room for negotiation. “I’ll see that you get money on a regular basis.”

  Sandy cocked her head and regarded Rebecca thoughtfully. “You’ve changed. There’s something inside of you now besides just business. How come?”

  Rebecca was silent, but she stumbled over the memory of Catherine’s scent enveloping her in the dark. And she knew.

  Chapter Five

  Catherine smiled at the assistant who sat guarding the door to Hazel Holcomb’s inner sanctum.

  “Hi, Stef, is she around?”

  The slender African American woman shook her head. “Not to anyone but you.”

  “That busy, huh?” Catherine smiled. “Never mind, then. I’ll catch her before the five o’clock management conference.”

  “No, you’d better see her now if you really want to talk to her. No guarantee she’ll even make it to the conference. Budget’s due.”

  The way Stef said budget made it sound as if she were speaking of a virulent pathogen capable of destroying nations.

  “I promise I’ll only stay a minute.”

  The assistant waved her toward the partially open door to the chief of psychiatry’s private office and returned her attention to the computer screen on her desk. Catherine murmured her thanks and, tapping lightly on the door to announce her presence, stepped into Hazel’s office.

  “Oh, thank goodness, you’ve come to rescue me.” Hazel, a vigorous sixty-year-old with short salt-and-pepper hair and a piercing gaze, slipped off her reading glasses and let them dangle on the braided cord around her neck. Indicating a chair in front of her desk with a quick gesture, she leaned back and sighed. “Most of the time I forget why I didn’t want to be an administrator. This week, I remember quite clearly.”

  Catherine regarded the mountain of paperwork covering every available surface of Hazel’s desk and grimaced sympathetically. “It looks awful.”

  “It’s worse.”

  “I’m sorry. I’d volunteer to help but the thought terrifies me.”

  Hazel snorted. “It would probably be good practice for you. You’re going to be doing it yourself one day soon.”

  “I’m not at all certain I want the job,” Catherine said immediately, “and what’s more, you’re going to be here for a long time to come.”

  “There are days I wonder about that,” Hazel said with uncharacteristic solemnity. “There seem to be more and more of them when it just isn’t fun anymore.”

  “Those are the times we have to remember to separate the work from the bullshit.”

  Hazel blinked, then laughed with genuine pleasure. “You’re right. And I’m sorry. You came to talk about something, and I ended up telling you my troubles.”

  “It seems only fair, since I’m always burdening you with mine.”

  “Nonsense. We’re friends, and that’s what friends do.”

  Since Hazel was regarding her expectantly, Catherine got right to the point. “I need advice, of course. It’s about a former patient whom I expect to be treating again. Since the last time I saw her in therapy, I’ve gotten somewhat personally involved with her. What’s more, Rebecca is involved with her too.”

  “How do you know she’ll be returning?” Hazel asked astutely.

  “She’s a police officer, and she’s sustained an on-duty injury. She’ll need to be cleared psychologically before she returns to duty. Since she’s seen me before, I expect she’ll return.”

  “And you’ve gotten to know her outside of therapy, I take it.”

  Catherine nodded. “It’s complicated.” She laughed at her own understatement. “Of course it’s complicated, or I wouldn’t be here. She’s an officer assigned to Rebecca’s team, and I’ve worked with the team as a consultant fairly closely for the last month or so. The officer and I have worked together in that capacity.”

  “So it was still a professional relationship, essentially.”

  “Yes, and this particular individual is extraordinarily respectful of boundaries. She’s very much like Rebecca.” Catherine smiled, thinking of Dellon’s quick temper and Rebecca’s cool, tight control. “Although they’re as different as night and day.”

  “You’re fond of her, aren’t you?”

  Slightly taken aback
, Catherine hesitated, considering the early-morning call she’d received from Rebecca just a few days before telling her that Dellon had been seriously injured and was on her way to the hospital. She remembered her swift relief that it hadn’t been her lover who had been hurt, followed immediately by her concern for a young woman she had come to know and like. “I do like her. But I like many of my patients.”

  “I agree. If you didn’t, I’d worry about that.” Hazel lifted a mug and sipped, then made a face. “Cold tea. Almost as bad as cold coffee.” She leaned forward, punched in several numbers on her phone, and asked Stef if she would mind bringing two cups of tea. “So you’ll be seeing her in a somewhat limited capacity—short-term, focused on her recent injury. Correct?”

  “Yes. Usually these things are resolved in three to five sessions.” Catherine waited while Hazel got up to take the tea from her assistant. “Thank you,” Catherine said, taking a mug from Hazel. “But sometimes other things come out, and I end up seeing the individual for long-term therapy.”

  “And that’s where you think problems might arise?”

  “Potentially.” Catherine blew on the surface of the hot liquid and sipped. “Not necessarily. It’s just there are more confounding factors in this particular relationship than I’m used to dealing with, and I wanted to talk it out with you. I don’t want to transfer her in the midst of emerging issues.”

  “I take it you haven’t been personally—socially—involved in any way.”

  “No, Rebecca wouldn’t have that kind of a relationship with anyone she worked with, particularly a subordinate. Nor would I.”

  “I think the very fact that you’re talking about it means you’ll be particularly sensitive to boundary issues. I wouldn’t worry about it.” Hazel rested her mug on the corner of her desk. “So, how are things with you and the detective sergeant?”

  “The detective sergeant is now a detective lieutenant. She just told me earlier today.”

  “That’s wonderful, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I think.” Catherine shook her head. “It’s not what I thought it would be. I just assumed her promotion would mean she’d be doing mostly administrative work. Instead, they’ve given her command of some special unit to investigate high-profile crimes. That doesn’t sound an awful lot safer than what she’s been doing.”

  “Her job still worries you,” Hazel observed matter-of-factly.

  Just as honestly, Catherine answered. “Yes. It does. She goes to work every morning to a job where someone might try to kill her. I freely admit, I’m not well-adjusted to it.”

  Hazel smiled. “You sound a little angry. That’s better than depressed, which was how you sounded the last time we talked about it.”

  Catherine huffed out a breath. “I suppose I’m moving toward acceptance, but I don’t think it’s ever going to be easy.”

  “I can’t imagine that it ever could be. Are you happy with her?”

  “Oh God, yes,” Catherine replied instantly. “I…” She blushed. “I’m madly in love with her.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “We’ve talked about living together.”

  “That’s news.”

  “I’m ready,” Catherine said. “But I’m not sure that Rebecca is. Rather, I’m not sure that Rebecca thinks she is.”

  “She’s afraid to disappoint you.”

  Catherine jerked, startled. “How did you know?”

  “A better question is, how did you not know?”

  “Oh,” Catherine muttered with obvious frustration. “I hate it when we get to this point in these conversations.” She took a breath and let it out slowly. “I did know. I do know. I just want her to realize that I’m different from the other women she’s been with.”

  “I imagine she knows that,” Hazel said gently. “What she doesn’t realize is that she’s different with you than she’s been with anyone else. When she can see that, she’ll trust herself with you.”

  “I’m having some sort of territorial reaction, aren’t I?” Catherine gave a rueful laugh. “I can’t believe I’m jealous of women I’ve never even met.”

  “Perfectly natural.”

  “Relationships certainly do bring our hidden fears rushing to the surface, don’t they?”

  “Being in love definitely does.” Hazel stood and moved around her desk toward Catherine. When Catherine rose, Hazel put a friendly arm around her shoulders and together they walked toward the door. “You sound like you have a very firm hold on everything that’s happening, both with your young police officer and your new lover. Trust your judgment. I always have.”

  “Thank you. I’m going to trust your judgment on this, because sometimes where Rebecca is concerned I have no perspective at all.” Catherine returned Hazel’s hug and, feeling lighter of heart, left to face the rest of her day, looking forward to her evening with her lover.

  *

  “Come on, honey, get into bed with me.”

  Sandy folded her arms across her chest and regarded Dell suspiciously from the doorway. “What did you take?”

  “Whatever Jason gave me.” Mitchell pointed to several prescription vials on the bedside table. “He said I was supposed to take them.”

  “Whatever it was, it made you high.”

  “Nuh-uh. You do that.” Mitchell patted the bed beside her and grinned. “If you cuddle up with me, I’ll take a nap like I’m supposed to.”

  “You’re going to want to fool around.”

  “Nah. I won’t.”

  “You’re lying, Dell.”

  “Maybe.” Mitchell held out her hand. “Come on, honey. Please?”

  “Just for a few minutes.” Sandy slipped out of her sandals as she walked to the bed and, with practiced efficiency, shed her top and skirt as well and arrived at the bedside nude. “What?”

  “You’re so hot.” Mitchell’s voice was hoarse, her eyes huge as her gaze drifted down Sandy’s figure. “Stand right there.”

  “What are you doing? You know we can’t, not with your leg the way it is.”

  “Shh. I’m just looking.”

  “Then how come it feels like you’re touching?”

  “Must be ’cause I want to so much.”

  Sandy’s hips gave a small involuntary jerk. “Shut up, Dell. There’s no way we can do anything.”

  “Every time I see you, it’s like…wow.”

  “Well, you’re done lookin’, rookie.” Sandy lifted the sheets and slid into bed, pulling the covers to her shoulders. She turned on her side and propped her head in one hand, resting the other on Mitchell’s abdomen. “Close your eyes and go to sleep.”

  “How come you covered up?”

  “You know why. You turn me on bad when you look at me the way you just did.”

  “Yeah?” Mitchell leaned over, nudged the sheet aside with her chin, and kissed Sandy’s breast just above her nipple. “So are you now?”

  “Uh-huh.” Sandy arched her back and drew her tense nipple across Mitchell’s lips. “Kiss me there.”

  With a quiet moan, Mitchell closed her mouth on Sandy’s small breast and sucked. When Sandy’s fingers trembled in her hair, holding her head closer, she used her teeth. When Sandy’s breathing caught, stuttered to a stop, and then picked up again, rapid and shallow, Mitchell teased her fingers up and down the center of Sandy’s abdomen, making the muscles jump and twitch.

  “You like that?” Mitchell beat her tongue back and forth across the tip of Sandy’s nipple. “Baby?”

  “Yesss.” Sandy fisted her hand in Mitchell’s hair and pulled. “Stop. Dell, stop.”

  Trembling, Mitchell laid her cheek in the hollow between Sandy’s breasts, fighting to contain the wild urge to taste her everywhere. The tips of her fingers rested just at the edge of the silken strands between Sandy’s thighs, and she struggled not to slide her fingers lower into the thick wet heat that she knew awaited her. Sandy’s heart raced beneath her ear like a frantic rabbit running from a fox. Fearful that she gone too far too fast and fo
rced Sandy into a place that wasn’t pleasure, but pain, Mitchell asked gently, “Did I do something you didn’t like?”

  Sandy made a strangled sound, half sob, half laugh. “Sometimes…when you’re touching me…it feels so good that I get confused.”

  “Confused?” Mitchell didn’t move, didn’t change the inflection or tone of her voice. She listened with all her heart, wanting nothing more than to understand what this one woman needed from her.

  “When your mouth is on me like that…I can’t tell where you are, but I can feel you everywhere inside of me…touching me in places I know you can’t be touching me. I feel like I’m going to break, Dell. And I don’t know what will happen if I do.”

  “I won’t let you,” Mitchell promised fervently. “I’ll be right here. I’ll hold you.”

  Sandy inched down on the bed until her face was even with Mitchell’s. She looked into Mitchell’s eyes. “I believe you. I do. But…no one’s ever made me feel what you do.” She laughed harshly. “God, I never wanted anyone to make me feel anything when they touched me.”

  “I love you.”

  “Even knowing…what I am?”

  “What are you, Sandy?” Mitchell’s lips were almost touching Sandy’s. She stroked Sandy’s hips very gently with just the tips of her fingers.

  “You know, Dell. I trade sex for money.”

  “When was the last time?”

  “You don’t want to know these things.”

  “Yes,” Mitchell said quietly, but firmly. “I do.”

  “A week or so ago. A couple of car jobs down on Arch.”

  Mitchell never stopped her gentle caresses. “Before you signed on with Frye as her CI?”

  Sandy nodded. “She told me it was part of the deal…that I don’t hook.”

  “And that’s the reason you stopped?”

  This time, Sandy shook her head in the negative. “It wasn’t for Frye.”

  “Why then?”

  “I don’t know,” Sandy whispered. “After that psycho murdered Anne Marie, I quit everything except the quick stuff. Too much can happen when you’re alone in a room with a guy.”