Justice Served Read Online Free PDF

fact that Clark had vouched for her. He should know that her arrest and subsequent dismissal from the Justice Department disqualified her from a position such as this. The fact that he had paved the way made the entire offer suspect.
    “I need to think about it.”
    Henry stood. “Of course.” He extended his hand. When Sloan took it, he squeezed gently. “Just remember, we have two dead police officers whose murderer is unaccounted for, an unsolved attempted vehicular homicide—I believe you’re familiar with that incident—and”—he glanced at Rebecca—“a mole somewhere with direct access to our personnel and case files. The identities of those individuals is probably somewhere in here.” He rested his hand on his computer. “I’d like you to find them, if you can.”
    Sloan stared at the blank computer monitor, but what she saw was Michael lying in the street in front of their building, her face pale, her body battered and bruised, a maroon river streaming from beneath her head. Her hands closed into fists.
    “Oh,” Sloan murmured softly, “I can.”

    *

    Michael Lassiter stared at the computer screen, willing her eyes to focus. A dull throb reverberated at the base of her skull, impeding her ability to concentrate. Queasiness simmered in the pit of her stomach. With effort, she settled her trembling fingers on the keyboard and began a memo to the division heads of Innova Design Consultants, the company she had founded with her ex-husband and now headed. Fifteen minutes later, she had completed one paragraph, and her head threatened to explode. Sporadic flashes of light streaked across her field of vision, and the queasiness had swelled to a surging tide of nausea. She closed her eyes, hoping to fight down the sickness.
    “Michael?” Sloan crossed the loft in long strides, her face creased with concern. She knelt by Michael’s chair while cupping her hand at the base of Michael’s neck. “Baby?”
    Comforted by the cool touch of her lover’s fingers, Michael leaned into Sloan’s caress. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
    “Missed you,” Sloan murmured, her eyes riveted to Michael’s pale face. “What are you doing?”
    “Trying to get a little work done myself.”
    Sloan struggled not to let her apprehension show. Michael looked so frail, and her obvious pain knifed Sloan’s heart. “Rushing things a little, aren’t you?” She lifted Michael’s hand and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. “Ali said you should take it easy for a few weeks. Not to expect too much.”
    Michael turned her head, resting her cheek in Sloan’s palm. “I didn’t think that reading my e-mail qualified as a major endeavor.”
    “Why don’t you lie down for a little while.” Sloan slid her hand beneath Michael’s elbow. “Come on, I’ll walk you into the bedroom.”
    “Is there something you’re not telling me?” Michael asked, remaining motionless, searching Sloan’s face. “Something about what happened to me?”
    “No.” Sloan crouched again until their eyes were at the same level. She held Michael’s gaze as she lightly stroked her cheek. “No. You had a really bad concussion. Remember Ali said it might be a few weeks before the symptoms cleared up? Headaches especially. It’s probably just too soon to work at the computer.”
    “Sloan,” Michael said fervently, “that’s where I do most of my work. I’m a design consultant.”
    “I know, baby, I know.”  The edge of anxiety in Michael’s voice was unmistakable, and Sloan ached to reassure her. “But you’ve only been out of the hospital a week. This is normal.”
    “I hate this.” Michael wrapped her arms around Sloan’s neck and leaned into her, resting her cheek on Sloan’s shoulder. “I hate feeling so weak, and I hate feeling useless. And I hate being apart from you most of all.”
    “Oh no, baby. No.” Sloan rose slowly, enfolding Michael in her arms, and kissed her forehead, then her lips. “You’re getting