“Frye.”

“Three men, just like you said. Two in front, one in the left rear.

Two young females—also in the rear—one Caucasian, one African-American. Both conscious. Looked okay as far as I could tell.”

“Did the men seem suspicious?”

“Let’s just say I’m glad I’m wearing Kevlar. They didn’t look jumpy. They looked cool. Very cool. Professionals.”

“You can pull off their tail in another mile. They know you can place them with those two girls. They’re not going to do anything that might jog your memory.”

“I thought if I asked for IDs I’d be pushing it,” the Statie said.

“Agreed. They know you’ll have their plates. Better for them to think it was a courtesy stop. Nice work. We owe you one.”

“Don’t worry.” He laughed. “We’ll collect.”

Frye disconnected and rested her phone in her lap. “That should give Sandy and Darla a little bit of a safety net. Those guys won’t want their bosses to know they were stopped, and they’re not going to want Sandy

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and Darla’s pictures circulating around the law enforcement channels.”

She took a quick look at Mitchell. “Good thinking, Detective.”

Dell wasn’t convinced it was enough. What if the guys operated so far off the grid they wouldn’t care if the state police were looking for them? Maybe they’d dump Sandy and Darla’s bodies in the river and take their chances. She just hadn’t been able to think of any other way to force the men not to hurt the girls without the possibility of a gun battle. But what if she’d been wrong? She was so agitated she thought she might puke.

“We’ll be back in Center City in twenty minutes,” Rebecca said as she punched in a series of numbers with her thumb. “Hey, it’s me.”

“Are you all right?” Catherine asked instantly.

“I’m fine.” Even though she spoke with calm confidence, Rebecca knew Catherine wouldn’t really believe it until she saw her. “But we might have a casualty. Sandy. Can you get dressed in case we need you at the hospital?”

Dell concentrated on staying strong for Sandy through whatever was coming, but she had to convince Sandy to quit risking her life for Frye. She just had to, because she wouldn’t make it without Sandy.

v

Sandy heard the crunch of gravel as the Navigator slowed. She opened her eyes and for a few seconds couldn’t remember where she was. Then the pain returned. The light inside the SUV had turned gray, the sickly pallor of a rainy winter morning. The driver slammed to a halt and she rolled partially forward, swallowing a moan as Darla clutched her to keep her from falling to the floor.

The rear door opened and the handsome Russian in the sunglasses said, “Get out.”

“What about our money?” Sandy slid to the edge of the seat but did not get out. She looked up at him as he stared down at her, his face impassive. She held his gaze. Finally, he laughed shortly, reached into his pocket, and came out with a folded wad of bills. He waved them in the air before turning and walking a few yards away from the Navigator.

She followed him, motioning for Darla to wait nearby.

“Okay,” Sandy said, holding out her hand. “Give.”

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With a thin smile, he leaned forward, cupped her right breast in his huge hand, and squeezed as he slid the money inside her blouse.

“You’re lucky you and your girlfriend look good together,” he said.

“The client liked your little show.” He pulled on her breast, dragging her closer, and she felt the ridge of his cock against her stomach. His fingers closed around her nipple, twisting until it burned. “Next time, don’t interfere. They pay to fuck you any way they want.”

“Next time,” Sandy said, trying not to gasp as her head swam.

“Tell them not to rough us up. Because no one will want to party with you.”

“Who says?” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it around his cock. It felt like he had an iron bar in his pants.

Sandy tilted her head back and smiled. “I do. And if you want me to make that rocket blast off the next time I see you, it’s going to cost you five bills.” She tightened her grip until she knew the pressure bordered between pleasure and pain. For men like him, it was often the same thing.

His voice came out tight, the corners of his mouth white with strain. “What makes you think we’ll meet again?”

“Because I know what you want.” She twisted her wrist until his breath grew shallow. “And you know it.”

He looked toward the car and lowered his voice. “Give me your number.”

Sandy told him, squeezing one last time before she yanked her hand out from under his. She wasn’t going to let him come for free.

She needed him to be thinking about how good it would feel when she finally did him for real.

“We’ll want your girlfriend too.”

“So call me.” Sandy stepped back hoping he couldn’t see how badly she was shaking.

He turned and strode to the Navigator, his back rigid. Gravel spewed as the SUV careened out of the lot.

Sandy reached out for Darla, her legs suddenly numb. Distantly she heard Darla call her name as she sank to her knees, then crumpled to the ground. Pinpoints of pain shot into her cheek. Stones. But she could move her head. She heard the roar of the engine again, but she knew she couldn’t get up. No matter what they were going to do to

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her, she couldn’t fight anymore. She tried to tell Darla to run, but she couldn’t form the words.

A gentle hand slid behind her neck, a strong arm lifted beneath her knees. Then she was cradled against a lean, firm chest. “Dell?”

“Right here, babe.”

“’Bout time.” Sandy closed her eyes and let herself drift. Safe now.

• 224 •

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ChAPTER TwENTy-TwO

I can walk,” Sandy said, sounding irritated.

“Well, that’s very good news.” Catherine ducked lower to reach into the back of the car and brushed a few strands of blond hair off Sandy’s cheek. She could only see the part of her face that wasn’t cradled against Dell’s chest, but even in the poor light, she could see that her mouth was swollen and a streak of blood trailed down her neck. Anger welled within her and she struggled to find the calm that Sandy needed. That Dell needed. “We have rules, you know, even if they don’t always make sense. So rather than get me into trouble, why don’t you just stay here a few more minutes and then let us give you a ride inside.”

“Don’t fight it, babe.” Dell cradled Sandy in her arms. In the dim light, Dell’s pale face looked bloodless, her eyes dark pits of fathomless sorrow. Stroking Sandy’s back, she said, “You won’t win this one.”

“’Kay,” Sandy muttered.

Catherine smiled, nodded to Watts, who emerged out of the passenger side like a dark behemoth out of the sea, and squeezed Dell’s shoulder. “Just another minute.”

When she straightened and turned, she saw Rebecca emerging from the emergency room pushing a stretcher. Her emotions warred in the familiar battle between relief that Rebecca was unhurt and guilt over her happiness, because someone else was injured. Sandy. God, Sandy. Barely more than a child and already with a lifetime of pain, and now possibly more. Why was life so unfair? She knew better than most not to ask those questions, but sometimes in the dark hours of the night when she was weary, she couldn’t help but ask herself.

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She hurried forward. “Let me do that. Are you all right?”

Rebecca stopped the gurney with one hand and cupped Catherine’s jaw with the other. She kissed her fleetingly. “I’m okay. This is a mess, though.”

“We’ll take care of it. Can you see about getting her inside? I’ll find Ali.” Catherine wanted to tell Rebecca to go inside and sit down.

She looked exhausted. But she knew that would be pointless. Rebecca would not rest until Sandy was cared for, and probably not even then.

Whatever had happened tonight would demand her attention. They would not, none of them, stand for one of their own being hurt this way.

As Catherine hurried away, she heard Rebecca tell Watts to get Darla’s statement. Darla, she assumed, was the frightened young African-American she’d seen getting out of the car. She blinked as the harsh lights assaulted her eyes, and she blamed the sudden tears on that rather than the ache in her heart at the thought of yet more young victims.

Dell couldn’t seem to move. She feared once Sandy was inside the hospital she would lose her, even though rationally she knew that wasn’t true. Still, how could she protect her if she let her go?

Rebecca leaned into the vehicle and held out her arms. “Give her to me, Mitchell. It’s okay.”

“I can’t,” Dell whispered, sheltering Sandy in the curve of her body.

“Yes, you can. You’ll be right beside her. You know I won’t let anyone hurt her.” Rebecca slid her arms around Sandy’s shoulders and under her knees, alongside Dell’s. “Trust me.”

Rebecca’s eyes held hers steadily, utterly sure, unwaveringly strong. Dell eased her grip on Sandy, who murmured something she couldn’t understand.

“What?” Dell asked hoarsely. “Babe?”

“Everything is all right, baby,” Sandy whispered. She opened her eyes and tried to smile. “Stop stressing.”

Dell clamped her lower lip between her teeth so tightly she tasted blood. Desperate to believe, she let Rebecca take Sandy from her and settle her onto the stretcher. She felt dizzy as she climbed out of the car, and grabbed the metal railing on the stretcher as much to steady herself as to stay connected to Sandy. “Don’t worry. I’m solid.”

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Sandy closed her eyes. “I know.”

Rebecca pulled the stretcher toward the double ER doors. A willowy brunette nurse in navy blue scrubs and a stethoscope dancing around her neck hurried outside and grasped the stretcher opposite Rebecca.

“Dr. Rawlings said you had a patient for us. Trauma two is open.

Right down the hall on the left.”

“Thanks,” Rebecca said. The nurse smiled at her.

“You’re Dr. Rawlings’s detective.”

Rebecca smiled back. “I am.”

v

“This light might bother your eyes, honey. I’m sorry.” Ali flicked her penlight quickly between Sandy’s left and right eyes, watching the pupils constrict. “Everything looks good here.” She clipped the light to the pocket of her scrub shirt and put her hands on her hips. “You didn’t lose consciousness?”

“No.” Sandy glanced toward the end of the stretcher where Dell stood, her hands still clenched around the metal railing. “I wasn’t out. I know what that feels like.”

Ali shifted her gaze to Dell. “You might want to wait outside, Dell.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“Go ahead, baby,” Sandy murmured. “This is just routine.”

“No.”

“Sandy, do you want Dr. Rawlings to come in?”

“No, just go ahead, Doc.”

Ali covered Sandy’s hand with hers. “Were you sexually assaulted?”

“No one touched me.” Sandy’s eyes flickered to Dell again. “No one.”“I only care about you being okay,” Dell said gruffly.

“You’re sure nothing else hurts?” Ali asked.

Sandy started to laugh, but then caught her breath when her ribs screamed in protest. “That’s it.”

“Once we finish the x-rays, we’ll move you upstairs—”

“I want to go home,” Sandy said immediately.

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Ali blew out an exasperated breath. “Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“You should stay here, San, if that’s what the doctor wants,” Dell said.

Sandy frowned. “Oh. Look who’s talking. Macho cop who doesn’t want to stay in the hospital even after she’s been stabbed.”

“Ah, Jesus. Save me from the whole bunch of you.” Ali pointed at Dell. “See that she stays in bed.” She fixed Sandy with a lethal stare.

“You take the medications I prescribe and get your butt back here if you develop any problems. All of which I will write down for you.” She started toward the curtain that enclosed the cubicle, then looked over her shoulder. “And I really don’t want to see any of your team back here again. I’m sick of you all.”

Sandy smiled as much as her swollen lip would allow her. “We all love you too.”

“Yeah yeah,” Ali muttered as the curtain swung closed behind her.

“How is she?” Rebecca asked as soon as she came through the door.

“She’s stable, and all things considered, lucky.” Ali shook her head. “Scrapes and contusions, probably several cracked ribs. Her face is bruised, but the abrasion on her lip doesn’t require sutures. If she weren’t eighteen, I’d say she’d be too sore to get out of bed for a few days. But, knowing her, anything is possible.” Ali grinned ruefully.