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“I suppose this is going to sound selfish, but I don’t really care if Clark makes off with a bunch of criminals or not.” Michael stopped Sloan before she could call the elevator. “I just want you coming home in one piece.”

Sloan kissed her. “It’s not selfish. And at the first sign of trouble, I’ll run.”

“Sloan. You’re such a bad liar.” Michael laughed shakily and kissed her as the elevator doors opened. “Call me, darling. As soon as you can.”

“I’ll be late,” Sloan said as the elevator doors slid closed. “Don’t worry.”

• 290 •

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v

“You know your sister is probably going to be there tonight,”

Mitch said, standing in the bathroom doorway.

Irina squinted into the small mirror above the bathroom sink and touched up her mascara. “I hope so. You said they would bring the same group as last week.”

“The lieutenant will wait until the party is under way before making the arrests. You’ll probably have to…you know, put your sister to work.”

“Mitch,” Irina said, turning in the tiny space to face him. “We don’t think like you do. If she needs to fuck some man tonight, she will not care and neither will I. As long as later, we are free.”

“I get that,” he said. “I just…I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to be upset.”

She smiled at him, her expression softening. Then in another one of those moves that always took him by surprise, she pressed close and whispered against his mouth, “This might be the last chance I get.”

Then she kissed him in a way she never had before. Not urgent, not challenging, but softly, gently. Her fingers glided through his hair, her body undulated languidly against his, her hips rocked rhythmically into his. He responded before he had time to think about it, and then when he would have pulled away, she did.

“That was to say thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” Mitch stepped back from her so that their bodies no longer touched. “I think you’re pretty special.”

“But you already have a girl, don’t you, new boy,” she said quietly, her eyes searching his.

“I do.”

She nodded and slipped past him. As she reached for the leather coat he’d bought her, her cell phone rang. She answered and spoke a few words in Russian.

“Olik is on his way with the girls,” she said. “He wants to see for himself how we work.”

Mitch grinned. “You ready?”

Irina took his hand and laced her fingers through his. “Da.”

v

• 291 •

RADclY fFe

Halfway up the block, a black stretch limo slid to the curb in front of Mitch’s apartment. A burly, flat-faced man in a long black leather trench coat exited the front passenger side and walked around to the sidewalk. He pulled open the rear door, folded his arms, and stood there like a statue. A minute later, Mitch and Irina came down the steps and climbed into the limo. The man slammed the door, got back in front, and the car slid away.

“Here we go,” Rebecca said, starting the engine. She waited until the limo had turned the corner heading east before following.

“Atlantic City, here we come,” Watts muttered, slouched in the passenger seat of the unmarked.

Sloan leaned forward from the back to get a look out the windshield. “New Jersey, here we come,” she said with satisfaction.

“Taking those girls across the state line should make the federal charges nice and solid.”

“Why don’t we just drive right to the casino hotel,” Watts said,

“instead of following them around and risking them picking us up on their tail? That jerk-off Thomas already told us where this little fuckfest is going down.”

Rebecca’s gaze locked on the taillights of the limo five cars ahead of them. “Since Mitch isn’t wired and there’s no way he can call us if they change the location at the last minute. They could direct the johns to a new rendezvous spot, and we’d be sitting in front of the Boardwalk Hotel with our thumbs up our butts for the rest of the night.”

Watts grunted. “Must be why you’re the lieutenant.”

“Of course, maybe you’d like Sloan’s thumb up—”

“Hey!” Watts and Sloan objected at once.

Rebecca grinned fiercely, feeling the burn of anticipation in the pit of her stomach. Everything made sense now that she could finally see the big picture. Jimmy Hogan, a narcotics detective and one of Clark’s agents, had gone undercover to get information on the Zamora organization. In the process, he’d stumbled onto the human trafficking operation at the pier being run by the Zamoras’ new Russian associates.

Needing help to investigate that, he’d arranged a rendezvous with Rebecca’s partner Jeff in the Special Crimes Unit, but Jimmy’s cover had been blown and he hadn’t known it. He and Jeff had been executed, and Rebecca knew with every cop instinct she had that one of the

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Justice for All

Russian enforcers had pulled the trigger. Tonight, she would have justice for her dead partner.

“I still can’t believe the DA agreed to let that pervert priest walk,”

Watts said bitterly.

“We needed his cooperation and the church has a lot of power.

We had to bargain.” Rebecca had objected violently, but her arguments hadn’t done any good. She’d been instructed to personally take charge of him during the bust and sequester him away from the other prisoners.

Thinking of the phone call she’d made just before she picked up Watts and Sloan, Rebecca turned onto the Atlantic City Expressway.

“But you never know. Anything can happen.”

v

“You might want to work one of the other clubs tonight,” Sandy said when Darla plunked down next to her at the bar at the Blue Diamond.

“How come?”

Sandy tilted her head toward the two men talking to a couple of girls across the room. “Our friends are back.”

Darla followed her gaze and stiffened. “Oh man. Those nasty pricks—I was hoping I’d never see them again. You think they remember us?”

“Yeah.” Sandy kept her eyes on the hard-eyed guy who’d gotten off manhandling her in the parking lot the week before. He smirked at her and adjusted his crotch. When he started toward them, she said quickly, “You don’t want to be in on this tonight. Go out the back.

Now.”

“Are you going to be okay?” Darla didn’t bother to wait for an answer. She just hopped down from the stool and hurriedly collected her purse and jacket.

Sandy held the Russian’s gaze as he approached. She smiled at him, and she didn’t have to fake it. She was really glad he’d found her, because now she’d have the chance to see him go down. “I’m gonna be just fine.”

v

• 293 •

RADclY fFe

Mitch leaned against the wall just inside the door of the penthouse suite at the Boardwalk Hotel and Casino and watched the party get under way. A Russian security guard occupied a similar spot on the opposite side of the door, looking bored. Irina directed the girls, speaking to them in Russian and moving them about the room like players on a stage.

Placing one next to a portly sixty-year-old who immediately began to fondle her while gulping the drink Irina handed him. Instructing another to kneel between the spread legs of a thirtysomething in a business suit who unzipped his fly and tugged out his penis while sharing a joke with a man seated nearby. She’d chosen two of the youngest to sit on either side of Bishop Thomas on a wide leather couch.

Mitch recognized Thomas from the photograph Sandy had taken at the last party. He recognized Irina’s sister, too, whom Irina had just delivered like a party favor to the priest. Nothing showed on Irina’s face as she went about the business of seeing to the clients’ needs, and her sister had been equally cool, only the faintest smile showing for a second when she’d first seen Irina. Mitch wondered if Irina struggled with the same blind rage that hammered at the edges of his control, or if she had long ago accepted the reality of what she must do to survive. He thought of her and Sandy, and ached for retribution for all the injustices they had endured.

Realizing his fists were clenched at his sides, he made a conscious effort to relax and put his personal feelings aside. He didn’t know precisely when the lieutenant would greenlight the takedown, but when it happened, he needed to be completely focused.

When Irina finished distributing the girls, a few men were still without escorts, and one of them appeared to be having a heated conversation with Olik, who lounged on a stool at the wet bar on the far side of the room. The thin, agitated man stalked off and Olik pulled out his cell phone and made a call. The Russians didn’t have enough girls of their own to cover the party, and Mitch knew what that meant. When a knock sounded at the door and the guard next to him exchanged words in Russian with someone outside in the hall, Mitch steeled himself for what was coming.

The guard pulled the door open and a man walked through with three more girls. Sandy didn’t look at Mitch, and he gave her a cursory glance and then looked away. Even when Sandy and one of

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Justice for All

her girlfriends headed straight for the thin man who sat fidgeting on the love seat across the room, Mitch just stared straight ahead. He didn’t flinch when the man said something to Sandy and pressed her hand over the bulge in his crotch. Sandy laughed and pulled her hand away before reaching for the girl beside her and deep-throating her. Mitch didn’t mind the kiss as long as the guy wasn’t touching her anymore.

Sandy had a job to do, and so did he. The best way to keep her safe was to get between her and the Russians when the fireworks started. He would preserve his cover, but if he got the chance, he’d kick that slimy bastard’s balls into his throat.

• 295 •

• 296 •

Justice for All

ChAPTER ThIRTy-ONE

Everyone should be settled in by now,” Rebecca said a few minutes after they watched Sandy climb out of a black SUV

and go into the hotel with two men and a couple of other girls. She checked Watts and Sloan. “Ready?”

“Fucking A,” Watts growled, releasing the strap on his holster before reaching for the door handle.

“Looking forward to it,” Sloan said easily.

“I’ll alert Clark to move on Zamora. Watts, radio when you rendezvous with the tactical team at the service elevators. We’ll take the lobby and clear the stairwell. Wait on the door until we get there if you can.”

“Roger, Loo.” Watts slid out of the car and hurried away with a spring in his step.

Rebecca speed dialed Clark, snapped, “We’re moving,” and disconnected.

“The Russians will be armed,” Rebecca reminded Sloan. “You stay at the rear and out of the line of fire.”

“How about I just watch your back and we don’t worry about where I’m standing.”

“Fair enough. But Jesus, keep your head down.” Rebecca grinned as she opened her car door. “I don’t need Michael after me for getting you bruised.”

Laughing, Sloan climbed out and joined Rebecca as they headed toward the front entrance. “I’m sorry Jason is missing this one.”

“We need him back at headquarters monitoring Zamora, just in case he gets wind of this and starts dumping data.” Rebecca slowed as

• 297 •

RADclY fFe

her radio crackled and Watts relayed that the strike team was in position.

“I copy. Give us thirty seconds. Then go.”

Rebecca and Sloan sprinted into the lobby, jogged around guests and bellmen, and hurtled into the stairwell.

v

Dell heard a muffled shout through the door and knocked the Russian guard next to her off balance as the door crashed open. Everyone in the room shouted at once as officers in riot gear stormed into the room. Girls cowered on the floor, men scattered while trying to zip and cover, and the Russians reached for weapons. Dell took advantage of the pandemonium and the momentary cover provided by the strike team to elbow the guard in the temple. The guy dropped like a stone.

Dell immediately checked for Sandy and saw her drag the girl with her behind the sofa. Across the room, Watts manhandled the other guard up against the wet bar and slammed his head down amidst the bottles and glasses. The lieutenant shoved the priest to the floor next to the sofa and cuffed him. The remaining johns jostled like spooked cattle, trying to get out the door past the police who were busy restraining them.

The situation seemed contained until Dell caught a glimpse of Olik yanking Irina by the arm toward the hallway that led to the rear of the penthouse. She wasn’t certain of the layout, but she thought there might be another exit.

Shouldering her way through the melee, she raced down the hall.

When she pushed through a partially open door, she found herself in another large sitting room with a wide foyer to her left and sofas and chairs grouped around an empty fireplace off to her right. In the foyer, Olik, one hand twisted in Irina’s hair, jerked open the door to the hall.

Dell couldn’t let him take her. She yanked her backup piece from her ankle holster and leveled it at Olik’s head. “Olik. Let her go!”

Seconds stretched into eternity as Olik thrust Irina in front of him and raised his automatic.

“Irina! Get down!” Dell shouted, desperately angling for a clear shot. Then Irina lunged at Olik and the air erupted in gunfire.

v

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Justice for All

Rebecca dropped into a crouch in the doorway and scanned the sitting room. Mitchell knelt nearby, blood covering one side of her face and her gun hand wavering. Irina was sprawled in the center of the foyer, a widening patch of crimson soaking her blouse.

“Hallway,” Mitchell gasped, staggering to her feet. “I’ll cover you.”

Sloan stormed by and yelled, “See to the girl! I’m with Frye.”

Rebecca leapt for the door. “Go low.”

“Got it,” Sloan called.

They burst into the hall side by side. Rebecca pivoted against the wall and Sloan skidded to her knees on the far side, weapon extended.

Olik was twenty feet away, almost at the stairwell doors.

“Police,” Rebecca shouted. “Drop the weapon!”

Olik half turned in their direction and fired blindly while diving for the stairwell. Sloan and Rebecca opened fire.

v

“Dell!” Sandy threw herself down next to Dell. “Dell. Oh, Jesus.”

“I’m okay,” Dell said, wiping her forearm across the side of her face. “Just nicked me. God, Irina.”

Gunfire clattered in the hall outside.

“Go,” Sandy yelled, flinging herself toward Irina. “I’ll take care of her.”

Dell rushed across the room and ducked into the hall. Sandy pulled up Irina’s blouse and pressed the heel of her hand to the ragged two-inch hole below her left collarbone. Flecks of blood streaked Irina’s lips, and her breath rattled with each shallow inhalation.

Irina’s eyes fluttered open. “Mitch?”

“He’s okay,” Sandy muttered, pressing harder as the flow of blood picked up. “Don’t talk, okay? Just lie still. You’ll be okay.”

“Mika,” Irina whispered. “My sister. Someone take care…”