Free Justice for All by Radclyffe Page B

middle-aged man and a tall, thin blonde who looked to be all business. Probably the detective lieutenant in charge. She looked like she could be a lesbian.
    Kratos leaned forward. “Stop right there.”
    Angelo had caught a full-face view of another blonde, this one elegant and sleekly beautiful. In her thirties, smooth-skinned and slender. The face of an artist’s model.
    “Who is that?” Kratos asked.
    “No name yet, but she’s a looker,” Vincent said.
    Kratos shot him a steely glare and Vincent averted his gaze. Another shot came up, this one showing the beautiful woman holding hands with a thin, wild-looking girl. A friend, maybe, because a woman as sensual and feminine as that one couldn’t possibly be a lesbian.
    “I want her name,” Kratos said.
    “Sure thing, boss,” Vincent said.
    Gregor clicked off the slides. “Angelo has a straight sight line right down to their front door. He could take one out, probably two or three, and still get away clean.”
    “And we’d have police in our lobby before the bodies hit the ground,” Kratos murmured, still thinking about the beautiful blonde. “For now, we watch.”
    “Papa would never have let puttanas like that interfere with our business,” Gregor grumbled.
    “Papa was a great man,” Kratos said softly as he stood, turning his back on his brother to address Vincent. “Have Angelo print out head shots of all of them. And I want names to go with them.”

    *

    “Sorry to keep you waiting,” Ali Torveau greeted Rebecca as she stepped into the examining room and closed the door.
    “No need to apologize,” Rebecca said, already regretting her unscheduled visit. Ali’s wrinkled, faded green surgical scrubs looked about as worn out as she did. The shadows under her eyes, which already seemed a permanent fixture, were darker today than Rebecca remembered them. “I’m the one interrupting your day when you’re probably due to go home. Sorry.”
    “Not a problem. I’ll be here awhile.” Ali pulled the stainless steel stool out from under the tiny shelf that served as a writing table and instrument stand and sat down, leaning her back against the shelf. “Just finished a fifteen-hour marathoner. A couple of rival gangs went to war last night. Three dead. Two others may be joining them soon. Just kids.”
    “Rough.”
    “Stupid waste.” Ali shook her head, then focused on Rebecca, her fatigue appearing to vanish. “So what’s wrong?”
    Rebecca hadn’t bothered to undress even though the nurse had instructed her to when she ushered her into the room. She sat on the examining table, the white paper covering crinkling beneath her. She detested being in a position where she had to ask someone else to empower her to do her job, even when that someone was a friend. “I need you to clear me for active duty. Today.”
    Ali was silent for a long moment. “And how is today different than yesterday morning when I said two weeks of desk duty?”
    “Yesterday morning I didn’t have a new street operation about to kick off.”
    “What’s so important that someone else can’t pinch-hit for you?”
    Despite Ali’s conversational tone, Rebecca felt her temper rising. If it hadn’t been for her promise to Catherine, she wouldn’t be here at all. She didn’t need medical clearance because she’d only been admitted to the hospital for observation. Her discharge sufficed to clear her for duty. No one actually knew about the restrictions that Ali had imposed. Except Catherine. And Watts, who couldn’t keep his nose out of her goddamn business all of a sudden. She bit back a sharp reply because Ali looked like hell and it wasn’t her fault that Rebecca hadn’t been fast enough to dive out of the line of fire. If Sloan hadn’t been so quick to back her up, she’d be dead and Catherine’s pain would be on her head. The wave of remorse was enough to cool her frustration.
    “This isn’t something I would ordinarily tell anyone.” Rebecca hesitated.