Justice Served (36 page)

*

Sandy answered the knock at the door and opened it wide to admit Rebecca.

“Hiya, Sandy,” Rebecca said, casting a quick glance around the small studio apartment. It was as neat as she remembered it from the one time she had been there before. The small sofa bed, closed and covered with colorful throw pillows, the slightly scratched coffee table in front of it, and the sparkling clean kitchenette off to one side.

“Hi,” Sandy replied with no hint of warmth.

“Mitchell ready?”

Sandy crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head toward the bathroom. “Just about.”

Rebecca walked to the coffee table and deposited the small canvas gym bag she carried in one hand. Squatting, she unzipped it and removed the contents, lining up the equipment she would need in a neat row. She looked up to the sound of the bathroom door opening. Mitchell—Mitch—approached in tight, faded blue jeans and a torso-hugging black T-shirt. His chest was flat, his face long and square jawed, his crotch obviously but not ostentatiously full. Had she not known differently, Rebecca would’ve thought him to be a young man of twenty. “The transmitter’s about the size of a deck of playing cards, a little bit thinner. Do you have room for it anywhere?”

“Where’s the best spot?” Mitch inquired, sliding his hands into his front pockets.

“Most guys will wear it down the back of their pants, maybe on their back, or occasionally in their crotch.”

Mitch’s lips twitched, and he unconsciously brushed the bulge beneath his fly. “No room there.”

“I gathered,” Rebecca said dryly. She stood, the transmitter in her right hand with the attached wires dangling. “Where’s Irina least likely to touch you?”

“Uh…” Mitch sidled a glance at Sandy, who remained motionless, her face set and her eyes firmly on his face. “Probably my back.”

Sandy snorted. Rebecca seemed not to notice.

“Okay, then, pull your shirt out and turn around,” Rebecca instructed. When Mitch hiked up his T-shirt, Rebecca saw the thin wrap encircling his torso. “I think if I tape it under the lower edge of the chest wrap, that’ll camouflage the shape enough to hide it, especially with the T-shirt over it.”

“Okay,” Mitch said, holding still as Rebecca worked. “What’ll I do if she wants to take me back to her place tonight?”

“Stall her.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You’ll have to figure out a way. We’re not prepared for a takedown tonight, and I don’t want you getting into a situation where I can’t extract you quickly.”

“Yeah, but…”

“If she keeps after you,” Sandy said quietly, “make her come right there in the bar, but don’t fuck her. Tell her you’re saving that for special.”

Mitch blushed, and sweat broke out over his entire body.

“Jesus,” Rebecca complained. “I can’t get the tape to stick to you like this.” She turned to Sandy. “Can you get me a towel?”

“Sure.”

“She’s going to kill me before this is over,” Mitch said when Sandy disappeared into the bathroom.

“She’ll be okay,” Rebecca replied. “Just remember who you are and why you’re there. Do what you need to do, and then you leave it there.”

Sandy held out the towel, giving no indication that she’d heard Rebecca’s words, but her angry expression had softened. “It would be kinda nice if you all made sure that Mitch’s ass doesn’t get hung out to dry.”

“Sandy—” Mitch started to protest.

“He’ll be fine. We’ll be monitoring everything that happens from now on.” Rebecca pressed the last strip of adhesive into place and rearranged the chest wrap over it, smoothing out the wrinkles with her hand. “Tuck your shirt in.” She waited until Mitch complied and then walked around him, eyeing his back critically. “In dim lighting, that’s not going to show. Just make sure she doesn’t get her hands back there.”

“That’s not where she’s going to be putting her hands,” Sandy commented.

Mitch groaned softly and gave Sandy a beseeching look.

A flicker of amusement passed over Rebecca’s face as she clapped Mitch on the shoulder. “Sloan’s downstairs in the car. I’m going down to test the audio feed with her. It’s a one-way transmission, so you’re not going to know that we’re on the line. But we’ll be there.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mitch said with absolute certainty. “By the way, I’m wearing an ankle holster.”

Rebecca nodded as she repacked the duffel bag. “Good. That’s something a guy like Mitch might do, so if anyone notices it at all, just say you’ve had some trouble and want to be prepared.”

At the door, she added, “If I don’t call up, it means we’re reading you with no problem. Remember, all we want tonight is for you to reestablish contact with Irina and convince her that you want to spend time alone with her where she lives. Following her to the stash house won’t be enough—we need you inside to give us some idea of the occupancy, the layout, and the number and position of the guards. We definitely don’t need a hostage situation when we get ready to take the place, so we’re going to want to go for the guards first.” She fixed Mitch with a firm stare. “Your job is intelligence. You’re our eyes, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

*

Mitch had the sense that someone was watching him. He set his bottle on the bar top and eased off the stool. Taking his time, he made his way to the back hallway that led to the restrooms and whatever else lay hidden in the bowels of the building. She was there, in the shadows.

“Hi,” Mitch said, leaning a shoulder against the wall. At the far end of the corridor he could see a flickering neon sign that said Exit. He knew there were other rooms opening onto the hallway, but for the moment, they seemed to be alone.

“Hello, new boy,” Irina purred, placing her palm in the center of his chest as she leaned close to kiss him lightly on the mouth. “Back again.”

Mitch slipped one arm around her waist and drew her against him. Tonight she wore some kind of dark red satiny slacks that hugged her voluptuous figure and a blouse that was more of a hint than a reality. It was so sheer he could see the lace of the flimsy cups that barely contained her breasts and the dark hue of nipple beneath. As she moved into him, she parted her thighs and settled into his crotch with his denim-encased cock neatly nestled between her legs. This time, he was prepared for the sudden surge of pressure, and when he bumped his pelvis into her, it was Irina who gasped. “I told you I would be here. I was afraid
you
weren’t.”

She stroked a fingertip along his jaw. “I am always here.”

For a second, Mitch considered questioning her, trying to get some information about the girls, but then he realized she would be on the lookout for that kind of questioning, no matter how subtle. He couldn’t afford to make her suspicious of him now. Instead, he nuzzled her neck and brushed his mouth over her ear. “You must go home sometime.”

Laughing, she tilted her head back and allowed him her neck. “Not until all the little boys have gone home happy.”

While he sucked the pale flesh of her throat, Mitch dropped his hand from her waist to her buttocks and kneaded the firm flesh. He circled his crotch against hers and moved his mouth back to her ear. “What about the big boys?”

“You are very…smooth, new boy.” She was breathing a little faster as she kissed him again, teasing her tongue along the inner surface of his lips, darting into his mouth and out again. Just as she drew away she nipped at his lower lip. “Mitch. You taste good, Mitch.”

“You
feel
good.” As they spoke, Mitch was aware of the transmitter on his back and tried not to think about his lieutenant and Sloan listening to this conversation. He had a fleeting instant of gratitude that it wasn’t Watts monitoring the wire. “I want to make you feel a whole lot better.”

“I don’t know why,” Irina mused as she edged a hand between them and cupped the swelling tucked in Mitch’s jeans. “But I believe you.”

“Maybe,” Mitch said, ignoring the practiced stimulation that she so effortlessly delivered, “because the other guys are just thinking about getting off.” He lightly teased an erect nipple through the flimsy layers of material, flicking it with a fingertip as he kept his eyes on her face. When he saw her lids flutter, he caught the hard peak in his fingers and squeezed. She moaned, and he squeezed again. “But remember what I said last night. I want to make
you
come.”

“Do the other one,” she whispered, her voice tight and urgent. Her eyes were nearly closed, her hips rolling rhythmically against him. When he started on her other nipple, working them both to the same rhythm, she forced her lids open and gazed at him through a haze of pleasure. “Did you make yourself come last night, thinking of me?”

Despite the icy control he kept over his own physical responses, he tightened deep inside at the words. Beneath the cock, his hard sex ached. Hoarsely, he said, “Oh yeah. All night long.”

“I imagined you fucking me, new boy.” Irina smiled, her lips swollen and moist. “Until I came, screaming.”

Mitch kissed her, one hand on her ass, the other tangled in her hair. He held her head while he plundered her mouth, until she was shaking in his arms and he knew she was his for the taking. He pulled his head away, breathing hard. “I want to fuck you ’til you scream. But not here. Take me home.”

She shook her head.

He spun her to the wall and pinned both of her arms against it with his hands around her wrists. He pushed his cock hard between her thighs, his lean hips between her spread legs, and he pumped into her while he took her mouth again. He worked his cock against her until she whimpered and writhed beneath him, then he pulled back, his own chest heaving. “Take me home so I can give you what you want. What
I
want.”

“I…” Her eyes were glazed, her mouth bruised, her breasts swollen—hard nipples exposed beneath the see-through material. “I…” She took a long shuddering breath and her eyes finally focused. “There are others there. I cannot.”

“Then I’ll take you somewhere else. A hotel.”

“No. I must stay there. I…cannot leave.”

He jerked one of her hands down the wall and thrust it between his legs, squeezing her fingers around his cock. “Feel me. You know you want this.” He dropped his forehead to hers, shivering as she automatically started to jack him off. “Please, Irina. Please. Please.”

“After,” she whispered urgently. “You come after they are asleep.”

“When? Where?” Mitch knew he sounded desperate, because he was. He had to get her hands off him, because there was only so much stimulation he could take.

“I will tell you when.” Then she pushed him abruptly away. “You just be here, new boy.”

Mitch sagged against the wall and watched her disappear into the darkness at the end of the hall. Tilting his head back, he closed his eyes and worked on quieting the storm she had stirred. When he thought he could walk without stumbling, he returned to the bar and signaled to Jasmine that he was leaving.

Five minutes later, Jasmine met him at the car, and they drove six blocks in silence before pulling to the curb. A dark Ford Escort pulled in behind them, and Rebecca walked up to the driver’s side. She peered through the open window at Jasmine and Mitch.

“Everything okay?” Rebecca asked, her gaze fixed on Mitch.

Mitch nodded wordlessly.

“All right. Good job.” To Jasmine, Rebecca said, “Take him home.”

*

Mitch let himself into the apartment, made his way carefully in the dark to the bathroom, and closed the door behind him before turning on the light. He stripped and tossed his clothes into a pile, then removed the chest wrap and his drag gear, laying everything on top of the toilet tank. With one arm, he reached awkwardly behind his back and jerked the tape from his skin, mindless of the quick rush of pain.

Then Mitchell stepped into the shower and turned both dials on full. The first blast to hit her was icy cold, but she never flinched. Eyes closed, she washed the smell of smoke and beer and dark secrets from her skin. Eventually she felt clean, at least on the outside. She toweled off, brushed her teeth, and turned out the light before opening the door. Moving by memory, she made her way to the sofa bed, carefully lifted the sheet, and slid in. Then she lay on her back, her eyes on the ceiling, wide awake. She could feel the heat of Sandy’s body only inches away, but she did not touch her. She lay there, remembering the stroke of Irina’s tongue inside her mouth, the crush of Irina’s breasts against her chest, the tease of Irina’s sure hand between her thighs, making her swell and ache and long for more. She thought of the lies and wondered what part was real and what had only been an act. Her mind and body were alive with confusion and, worse, simmering desire, but she dared not touch Sandy. Not now. It would be wrong.

She didn’t notice the tears until Sandy’s fingertips brushed over her cheeks.

“C’mere, baby,” Sandy said softly as she drew Mitchell’s head down to her breast.

“Sandy, honey, I…” Mitchell had no idea what she should say. “Tonight—”

“Shh. It’s okay.” Sandy kissed her forehead. “I don’t need to know what you did. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

Mitchell turned on her side and wrapped her arms around Sandy, drawing up one thigh onto Sandy’s, trying to get as close as she could. She closed her eyes and held on tightly. “I love you.”