Читать интересную книгу 6. Justice For All - Неизвестный

He walked to the closet and pulled it open. A stack of clothes sat on the top shelf. A few blouses hung from hangers. He sniffed them.

They were clean. She’d done laundry. But where had she gone? Maybe she had a contact in the city they didn’t know about. Maybe she’d been free to move about between safe houses the whole time, and she was

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already back with the Russians. Maybe she had a secret boyfriend, or girlfriend.

He’d been up most of the night before, so he stretched out on the mattress to wait and closed his eyes. The Army had taught him to sleep lightly, and he was instantly alert at the first scratch of metal on metal.

He sat up in the dark room.

“Come in and shut the door,” Mitch said when he saw Irina backlit by the hall light. He didn’t want her standing there like a target.

Irina closed the door and flipped on the wall switch. She stared at him from across the room, her gaze traveling slowly over his body.

“Hello, new boy.”

“Hi.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me where I’ve been?”

Irina removed a thin quilted jacket and hung it in the closet.

Beneath it, she wore formfitting black slacks with narrow tapered legs and a red wraparound top. She couldn’t be too much older than Mitch, but her body was lush and womanly and Mitch had the sudden image of rich fertile fields bursting with life. He unexpectedly had the urge to plant some part of himself in her, and he quickly forced the thought away.

“I told you I wasn’t your keeper.” He didn’t add that she could easily lie to him, so what was the point of asking.

“So you didn’t follow me today?” Irina asked.

“Jesus. No.” Mitch jumped up. “Was there someone?”

Irina shrugged. “Sometimes I thought yes. Sometimes no.”

“You’d be able to tell?”

She smiled grimly. “I am used to making myself invisible. And I know when eyes are on me.”

Mitch spun around to the window. The sidewalks below were deserted. In the patchy light filtering through the neighboring rowhouse windows, the cars lining the street all appeared empty. For one brief second he was so happy Sandy wasn’t here. Then he concentrated on Irina.

“Did you actually see anyone?”

Irina shook her head. “Many someones. No one I recognized.”

“All right. If you see anyone suspicious, or even think you see anyone, tell me.”

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“Where are we going?”

“We need to let people know we’re a couple, so your…associates…

believe us. I’m taking you to a club. Then we’ll go to Ziggie’s.”

“Like a date,” Irina said.

“Like work,” Mitch replied. “We need to get you a warmer coat.

We’ll be riding my motorcycle again.”

“I’m all right.”

“No, you’re not. We’ll stop on Market Street and get you something.”

“It’s nighttime, Mitch.”

“Those places are always open.” Mitch held out his leather jacket.

“Wear this for now.”

Irina studied him curiously. “Why do you care? I am…an enemy.

No?”

“No.” Mitch couldn’t say that she reminded him of Sandy. She was very proud and in her own way, very brave. He couldn’t say that he wished someone had given Sandy a warmer coat, or that she would take his more often.

“What will you do with these men you want me to help you find?”

“They’ll be arrested, and they’ll probably go to prison.”

“They will be killed?”

Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know. It depends on what they’ve done and what can be proved.”

“I will be sent to prison?”

“What did Clark tell you?” When Mitch saw her blank expression, he said, “The federal agent who said you had to help us?”

Irina laughed bitterly. “He told me I would go free.”

“You don’t believe him.”

“Would you?”

“No, probably not.” Mitch held his jacket open and after a few seconds Irina slid her arms into it. When she turned to face him, he gently tugged it closed. “We’re going to try to help you.”

“You should not be a cop, new boy.”

“Why?”

Irina kissed him. “You are not hard enough.” She put her hand over his heart. “In here.”

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Mitch hadn’t anticipated the kiss, not here and not like this, but he hadn’t felt anything other than an odd sadness. He put his hand on her back and guided her toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Do your friends believe we are together?” she asked him as they walked down the hall.

“Yes.”

Irina smiled. “Good.”

v

Talia sipped her wine, stretched her stockinged feet out onto a silk brocade hassock, and launched another probe. She didn’t really expect the bot to strike pay dirt. Thus far, she hadn’t found any easily accessible back doors in JT Sloan’s corporate system. No admin shortcuts, config errors, easily deciphered passwords, or unsecured remote access ports.

Sloan’s system was completely unlike the one she’d encountered at Police Plaza when she’d done a quick scan a few hours earlier. After only moderate effort, she’d gotten in deep there. Granted, the average hacker would not have had such an easy time, but then she wasn’t average. She hadn’t launched a serious assault because she didn’t want to risk leaving a trail back to her home base—she’d only created her own back doors for access at some future time. With luck, a few would remain hidden long enough to be useful.

She chuckled as she encountered yet another roadblock. JT Sloan was very good. She thought back to the grainy newspaper images and the dark good looks that even the poor photographs couldn’t hide.

Intelligent, handsome, and something of a cipher herself, Sloan had stood among the players whose names Kratos had provided. Talia had run background checks on all of them, and while several were notable locally, Sloan and her partner McBride were ex-federal agents, and both their dossiers had more blacked-out sections than available information.

Sloan’s in particular had been thoroughly cleansed. Whatever she had done for the U.S. government, it had been cloaked under deep cover and high security.

“You’re going to be fun,” Talia murmured, sending a Trojan horse she doubted would get past Sloan’s firewalls. But even experts made mistakes sometimes, and she had no doubt she would eventually find this woman’s weakness.

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Being able to envision Sloan’s face while battling her mind, on a field where few could compete with her as an equal, excited her. She was looking forward to meeting her in person. Bedding her, knowing that Sloan was unaware of her identity, would make the climax all the sweeter. Talia let her fingers drift over her nipples. They were hard and tingling beneath her sheer blouse. The wine warming her depths, the arousal that always accompanied a hunt, and the persistent image of her quarry made her want sex. The brief caress had created an answering echo between her legs, and she was aware of her clitoris throbbing. No one had captured her attention, mind and body, so completely in a very long time.

Finishing her wine, she called up another program and continued with her campaign to best JT Sloan. As she watched the screen, she reached for the phone beside her and punched in a number from memory.

A woman answered, her voice eager, as if she had been waiting for Talia’s call despite the late hour. “Yes?”

“Hello,” Talia said throatily. “I have been thinking of you.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Good.” Talia disconnected.

As she refilled her wine, she wasn’t thinking of the woman whose mouth would soon bring her to climax. She was envisioning a far more challenging and intriguing seduction.

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ChAPTER FIFTEEN

This place,” Irina said as Mitch guided her toward the entrance of the Troc. “It is like Ziggie’s?”

“Not really.” Mitch grabbed the door and held it open. “No dancers here. Different kind of performers.”

Irina hesitated for a second, giving him an odd look. At first glance, the place did look like Ziggie’s. A large, dark, rectangular room that smelled faintly of old whiskey and spent desire. But the Troc wasn’t a strip club, and although customers might be getting it on in the shadows, sex wasn’t the main course. Entertainment was the chief offering, and at the moment, the Front Street Kings were on the stage.

“Mitch!” Jasmine glided out of the gloom like an exotic bird. Her coppery lamé dress was formfitting and cut low, accentuating the slender length of her elegant neck and a tease of cleavage. Her lustrous, artfully tangled blond tresses danced over milky shoulders. Taller than Mitch, she moved with a sinuous sensuality more innate than impersonated, wholly female. She draped her arms around Mitch’s neck and kissed him on the mouth. “I’ve missed you.”

Even prepared for Jasmine’s entrance, Mitch was caught off guard, especially when Jasmine stroked her tongue ever so lightly along the edge of his lip and snugged her pelvis into his. He clasped her waist automatically and pressed a little closer, and she responded with an audible purr. As if to remind him where he belonged, Irina gripped the back of his neck. Her possessive gesture was so much like something Sandy would do he experienced a few seconds of dizzying disorientation.

Jasmine finally took pity on him and eased away, trailing her

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fingers over his chest before turning to take in Irina. “And who do we have here?”

“Jasmine, this is Irina.” Mitch slid his arm around Irina’s waist and tugged her against his side. “Jasmine is a friend of mine, Irina.”

“I see that,” Irina said, appraising Jasmine coolly. “You dance?”

“I sing,” Jasmine replied, her throaty voice carrying an edge.

“You like to play with boys like Mitch?”

Jasmine threw back her head and laughed. “Oh, I do. But I can see he’s going to be busy with you.”

Irina undulated against Mitch’s body and ran her hand slowly over his chest and down his stomach, then brushed her fingers along the swelling adjacent to his fly. “Yes. He is.”

Mitch caught the sparkle in Jasmine’s eyes and knew she was having fun jousting with Irina, but he didn’t need the two of them using his body as their combat zone. Jasmine was his friend, as well as his backup, and even though she was gorgeous and sexy and an outrageous tease, he’d never been attracted to her. His absence of desire had nothing to do with the fact that all that blinding sensuality was equal parts Jasmine and Jason McBride. Mitch just didn’t sexualize his friends. Irina, though, was different. She wasn’t his friend, and she wasn’t just teasing. Her hand was still on his cock, and he didn’t need a hard-on distracting him tonight.

“Let’s get a table, baby.” He shifted away from the questing fingers.

Jasmine smiled briefly at Irina and stroked Mitch’s cheek. “And I’ve got to get ready for my show. See you later?”

“Sure,” Mitch said and led Irina to a table as Jasmine disappeared.

“Want a beer or something?”

“Vodka.” Irina smiled. “It is the best liquor.”

“Ice?”

“Yes.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “I’ll be right back.”

At the bar, he gave his order and turned toward the stage to watch Phil and his other buddies perform. They were great. In between numbers, they changed clothes, effortlessly appearing first as hard rockers, then country-western stars, then suave crooners. They were handsome and rugged and sexy.

When an arm snaked around his waist, he expected Irina, but it

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was Jasmine. “Ooh,” she crooned, “hello again.” She flicked a perfect nail over the fold of his fly. “Nice.”

“Are you trying to get my balls busted?” Mitch asked loud enough for anyone watching them to hear.

“Would I do that, lover?” Jasmine leaned closer, traced the edge of his ear with the tip of her tongue, and lowered her voice. “Everything okay?”

“Irina thinks she might have been followed today.”

Jasmine swayed against him to the beat pulsing from the speakers.

An observer would conclude she was into some serious cock-teasing.

“Frye know?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you still up for Ziggie’s?”

“Got to. Irina left a message we need to follow up on.”

“Don’t disappear until after my number. I want to stick close.” She kissed his cheek. “And try to keep your dick in your pants.”

“Right.” Mitch grabbed the drinks and returned to Irina. As she sipped the vodka, he asked, “How do you like the guys?”

“I know them from Ziggie’s. Nice boys, and they are good, what they do.”

“Yeah.”

“Jasmine.” Irina’s lips pursed. “She is very beautiful.”

“Like I said, she’s—”

“I’m your girlfriend, no?”

“Yes.”

“So I let her know you are not hers to touch.” Irina shrugged. “No woman would let another one kiss her man like that.”

Mitch didn’t want Irina to suspect that Jasmine was working with him, so he played along. “I think she got the message.”

Irina slowly stroked the inside of Mitch’s thigh. The back of her hand rubbed over his cock. “Good.”

v

“Hey, Mitch, my man!” Phil said exuberantly, crossing to the table and clapping Mitch on the back. He caught Irina’s hand and lifted it to his lips, bowing slightly as he kissed the back of her fingers. “And hello, beautiful lady. I’m Phil.”

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“Hello, Phil,” Irina said, drawing out his name as if it were a delicacy.

Phil raised his eyes, his mouth still hovering over her hand.

Something glinted in their dark depths and his mouth quirked into a suggestive smile. “You’re far too fine to waste yourself on Mitch here.”

Irina laughed.

“Hey, that’s my date you’re drooling over,” Mitch complained good-naturedly. He kicked out the chair next to him. “Park it.”

“I didn’t get your name,” Phil said as he straightened, his gaze still on Irina.

She looked him over, taking her time. “Irina.”

Mitch could almost see Phil’s chest puffing up under the scrutiny.

Jesus, he looked like he wanted to take a bite out of her. Phil flirted with every woman, even Michael, but Mitch had never seen him look at a woman quite so intently before. Irina didn’t seem to mind. Mitch supposed he should act jealous, like Irina had acted with Jasmine. But Phil knew he had another girlfriend. Plus he and Irina weren’t a serious couple. They were just supposed to be dating. He cleared his throat.

“Want a beer, Phil?”

“Yeah,” Phil said, only taking his eyes off Irina’s face long enough to stare at the breasts molded by her tight red top. “That’d be great.

Thanks.”

By the time Mitch got back from his second drink run, the other Kings had arrived and were clustered around Irina at the table. She seemed to be enjoying the attention. He shuffled bottles around the table and reclaimed his seat. Jasmine was onstage, partway through her first number. Unlike many female impersonators, she didn’t lip-synch when performing. Her voice was sultry and rich, and as naturally feminine as the rest of her. Most of the men in the audience were riveted by her, their collective lust palpable. Mitch wondered how they dealt with the knowledge that this beautiful woman was also a man, but maybe that was part of the attraction.