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Authors: Radclyffe

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BOOK: Justice Served
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Rebecca shook her head as they approached the Vice Squad room. “We need to put Mitch back in Ziggie’s tonight, or else Irina will wonder why he’s not there. And I don’t think she’s going to wait another night to get him alone somewhere. We have to alert Henry that we may need backup if the bust goes down. We can’t risk Mitch out there by himself.”

“When are you going to let me listen to that tape from last night?” Watts asked for the tenth time.

“You’re starting to piss me off, Watts,” Rebecca warned.

“If
I’d
been with you instead of riding hind tit in the second car on the surveillance last night,
I
woulda got to hear Mitch in action instead of Sloan.” His tone turned wistful. “I bet that boy is smooth.”

Rebecca stopped short just outside Henry’s office. “Watts, are you trying to tell me you think you can learn something from Mitchell about the ladies?”

“Have you happened to see the way Sandy looks at her? Like she’s been starving for a month, and Mitchell’s USDA prime.”

“We’re not going there.” Rebecca shook her head and knocked on Captain Henry’s door. “End of conversation.”

“All the same,” Watts muttered as he followed her inside. “I shoulda been listening.”

Then the rumble of Henry’s deep voice commanded their attention as the door swung closed behind them.
Showtime.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Monday 6:40 p.m. University Hospital

“Well,” Catherine said, slowing as she approached Rebecca, who leaned against a column in the hospital lobby. “
This
is a nice surprise.”

Rebecca pushed away from the column and kissed Catherine’s cheek. “Done for the day?”

Catherine hooked her arm through Rebecca’s as they both turned toward the lobby exit. “I am. And I don’t have any patients scheduled tonight. How about you?”

“I’ve got work later.” Rebecca went on quickly, “I thought we could grab a bite to eat, unless you want to have something at home?”

“Let’s do something easy, and you can tell me what prompted you to come pick me up.”

“It’s not enough that I missed you and wanted to see you?”

Catherine smiled softly. “Oh, it most certainly is. Anything whatsoever that brings you here unexpectedly is perfect.” She squeezed Rebecca’s arm. “However, with you, there’s always a reason.”

Rebecca let out a sigh. “I don’t know how it happened that you know me better than I know myself.”

On the sidewalk in front of the hospital, Catherine turned to face her lover and kissed her quickly but affirmatively on the lips. “Oh, darling. That’s what happens when you love someone.”

“I don’t feel like I’m doing a very good job in that department, then.” Rebecca’s voice held real worry. “I have no idea half the time how to show you how much I love you.”

“You don’t have to worry about it, darling. You do it without even knowing it.”

“Lucky for me,” Rebecca muttered.


But
,” Catherine said, making Rebecca’s brow furrow in concern, “if you really, really love me, you’ll take me to the diner and we’ll have something sinful like ribs and French fries.”

“Now that,” Rebecca said with surety, “is something I can do.”

Fifteen minutes later they sat with a mound of nachos supreme between them, a beer for Catherine and coffee for Rebecca on the table, making small talk. Catherine munched a chip and studied her lover. “What’s happening tonight?”

“We’re heading back to Ziggie’s again,” Rebecca said after a few seconds’ hesitation. “There’s a good chance that Mitch will get invited back to the stash house tonight. If he does, we’ll probably take it down.”

“That’s what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?” Catherine’s heart raced with sudden anxiety. She knew without needing to be told that a place holding illegal immigrants—for all practical purposes, sex slaves—would be heavily guarded by men who would think nothing of shooting police officers.

“Yes, but there’s more to the picture than just where the girls are held and who’s running them. Once we move on this house, we’ll have exposed our hand. Everyone involved in the smuggling operation will run for cover, including the dockworkers who were in on the transfer of the girls from the ships.”

“I see. You need to coordinate all those arrests.”

Rebecca sighed. “Unfortunately, we need to coordinate it with the feds. It’s the only way to make sure we get the Port Authority guys rounded up.”

“And that means Clark.”

“Yeah.”

“Does he know yet?”

“No, but Henry has called a command meeting for nine. With Clark.” She sipped her coffee and grimaced. “He didn’t give me any room on this. I’m just waiting for Sloan to give me the names of the inside men at the PA. She’s been pulling stuff together all day down at the docks. I talked to her right before I met you, and she says she’s close.”

Catherine reached across the table and covered Rebecca’s hand with hers. “I know how much it means to you to put an end to the abuse of these young girls. And to catch the man who killed Jeff.”

Rebecca threaded her fingers through Catherine’s. “It’s my job. It’s what I’m paid to do.” She blew out a breath. “And yeah, it’s personal this time.” She gave Catherine a long look. “But I won’t let my feelings for Jeff cloud my judgment. I won’t risk Mitchell. She’s my priority tonight.”

Catherine said nothing, waiting.

“And I won’t be a hero,” Rebecca conceded. She lifted Catherine’s hand and skimmed her lips over Catherine’s knuckles. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

“There, you see?” Catherine said softly. “You
do
know just what I need.”

Monday 7:45 p.m. Sloan and Lassiter Residence

The elevator doors slid open soundlessly, and Michael stepped into the loft. She started down the hall toward her office alcove and stopped short when she saw Sloan stretched out on one of the sofas. It was such an unusual sight that she simply stood and stared. There was no question—Sloan was asleep. Carefully, Michael set down her briefcase and tiptoed into the living area. She knelt by the side of the couch and brushed back the dark hair from Sloan’s forehead. Then she leaned over and kissed her softly on the lips.

“Mmm, nice,” Sloan murmured, eyes still closed, as she stretched, then cupped her fingers behind Michael’s head. She returned the kiss lingeringly before opening her eyes. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Michael said softly. She rested her elbow on the sofa and propped her chin in her palm, stroking Sloan’s cheek with her free hand. “Why didn’t you call me and let me know you were coming home? I would’ve left the office earlier.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be working yet,” Sloan observed.

“I feel much better, and I didn’t drive. I didn’t even spend that much time on the computer. I just met with the various division heads to make certain our current projects were on schedule.”

“Uh-huh. I know what those meetings are like. It couldn’t have been an easy day.”

Michael rose, indicated for Sloan to sit up, and then settled behind her on the sofa, guiding Sloan’s head back into her lap. She ran her fingers through Sloan’s hair and replied, “It was fine, really. I know not to overdo. Believe me, I don’t want to end up back in bed.” She laughed softly. “Well, at least not because I have a headache.”

Sloan grinned and rubbed her cheek against Michael’s breast. “If I had a little more time, I’d take you up on that not-so-subtle suggestion.”

“Darling, you can be sure I’ll never be subtle about wanting to make love with you.” She brushed her fingers down the center of Sloan’s chest and edged her fingers beneath the waistband of Sloan’s trousers.

Sloan groaned. “I have to work tonight. No teasing.”

Michael grew still. “The surveillance again?”

“Yeah. Plus a meeting at Police Plaza in an hour. I just wanted to see you for a few minutes.” She grinned. “I didn’t intend to fall asleep.”

“No,” Michael murmured, keeping her hand against Sloan’s stomach. “That’s very unusual for you. Are you all right?”

“I’m okay. Don’t worry.”

“Don’t ask me to do the impossible,” Michael said with a gentle smile. She leaned down and kissed Sloan again. “Did you get what you were after today?”

Sloan’s fatigue dropped away and her eyes brightened. “Oh yeah. These guys were playing a pretty nifty shell game, moving containers from one spot to another and conveniently forgetting to log in the secondary locations. They bypassed the initial Customs inspection that way. Once the girls were picked up and transported from the docks, they moved the container back to the original location and altered the documentation stored in the computer.”

“And no one noticed the discrepancies?”

Sloan shook her head. “There’s no reason to review those records as long as all of the merchandise contracted for is eventually received. Since the containers carrying the girls held no legitimate merchandise, there was no reason to track their contents. And you’d never find that out unless you followed individual containers from point of origin to final destination,
and
coming off those specific ships. These guys were counting on the fact that no one would. And no one did—until today.”

“It sounds too simple to work.”

“Exactly,” Sloan said with a hint of respect. “The simpler the scam, the more likely it is to go unnoticed.”

“So—is tonight going to end it?”

Sloan’s eyes darkened and her expression hardened. “One way or the other.”

Michael drew Sloan’s face closer to her breasts, holding her tightly. Everything that needed to be said had already been said. Sloan had made her promise, and Michael trusted her to keep it.

Monday 9:00 p.m. One Police Plaza

Rebecca leaned with one shoulder against the wall, her arms folded across her chest, taking stock of the others present as she waited for the meeting to begin. Avery Clark stood with his back to the room, his hands loosely clasped at the base of his spine, his legs slightly spread—a position that suggested military training somewhere in his background. He appeared oblivious to the low hum of conversation in the room, but Rebecca had no doubt that he was completely aware of everything that was transpiring. Sloan sat at the small conference table, her laptop open, apparently engrossed in whatever program she was running. Rebecca had no doubt that Sloan, too, knew exactly where everyone was positioned and precisely what was happening. Mitchell occupied another chair at the table and, with her legs stretched out in front of her and her hands tucked into the pockets of her jeans, appeared genuinely calm. Watts, looking bored, drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

The door opened and Henry walked in, looking neither right nor left but walking directly to the head of the table. He did not sit, but leaned with his broad hands braced on the tabletop. “Lieutenant, bring us up to speed.”

Rebecca straightened. She was aware of Clark turning from the window to face her, but she kept her eyes on her captain as she gave a succinct rundown of the evidence they had gathered, stopping at one point for Sloan to update the group on the results of her computer searches at Port Authority. She ended by saying, “We believe that our undercover operatives will have the location of at least one stash house tonight. I’m sure there are others, but we should be able to get more information on that from the suspects we bring in.”

“And if you can’t,” Clark said mildly, “then all you’ll have done is apprehend a few midlevel enforcers while alerting the entire organization to how much we know. Or don’t know.”

“Between the inside men on the docks, the bodyguards, and the girls themselves, we’ll find someone who wants to deal,” Rebecca said with confidence.

“The longer we wait,” Henry interjected, “the more chance that they’ll move the girls permanently or that someone may get wind of our investigation.” He grimaced. “God knows,
this
place leaks like a sieve.”

“Working on that, Captain,” Sloan said jauntily.

Henry just grunted.

“Since the moment we infiltrated the Internet pornography ring,” Rebecca said, “the organization has to have known we might get wind of the bigger picture. We can’t chance waiting until they move this arm of their operation somewhere else. I recommend that we go now.”

“I concur,” Henry said. “I’ll make the calls.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Clark said. “Since we have jurisdiction, we’ll handle that.”

“You might have jurisdiction,” Rebecca countered smoothly, in a surprisingly calm tone, “over
some
aspects
of the investigation, but you won’t have anything at all if we don’t find the stash house.”

“Meaning?”

Rebecca lifted her shoulder. “
Meaning,
it’s our show. If you want your team to pick up the dockworkers and the inside men at Port Authority, be my guest.” She turned to Henry. “But it’s my people undercover, and I’m the one who will be leading the takedown team.”

“Seems fair,” Henry said. “Lieutenant, why don’t you and Clark coordinate the details of the joint strikes. We’ll have an assault team standing by in case you think it’s necessary. You’ll lead the assault on the stash house, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” Rebecca said, careful to keep the triumph from her voice. She waited until Henry left to make his calls and secure the necessary warrants before turning her attention fully to Clark. “Just how much of this did you already know when you put Jimmy Hogan undercover?”

BOOK: Justice Served
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