Justice for All by Radclyffe

outrun her rage before it spilled over on Michael and contaminated the only good thing in her life.
    As the white lines flashed beneath her, the cold wind off the water bit at her face below the visor of her helmet and her mind started to clear. Her focus shifted once more to Avery Clark. It all came down to the feds, the same group that had turned on her. They’d put her in jail and years later, they were still manipulating her life. Only this time, Avery wanted her to risk something far more important than her life. Michael.
    She pulled into a turnoff that was empty save for one pickup truck at the far opposite end. Cutting the engine, she settled her feet on either side of her Harley and unzipped her jacket. Her body was hot and the cold air blowing off the water chilled the sweat against her skin. She wasn’t afraid for herself. She wanted to get close to the men at the top. She wanted the man who had ordered the execution of two cops, and who had sent someone to run her down in the street outside her own home. Except she hadn’t been the victim, Michael had.
    The man responsible for that attack had to be out there, and there was no reason to think he wouldn’t try again. Nothing had changed. In fact, the closer the team got to exposing the criminal conspiracies, the more likely the men pulling the strings were to take drastic action. She wasn’t afraid on her own account. She’d spent enough time doing covert work in Southeast Asia to know how to protect herself. Professional assassins in that part of the world put American wiseguys to shame. But Michael didn’t have that kind of skill, and Sloan didn’t know how to protect her.
    Her options were few. She could quit the team—she wasn’t a cop or a federal agent anymore. But if she did, there was no guarantee the threat would disappear. She could find whoever had tried to kill her and force them to tell her who gave the order. She’d never been an assassin, but she would kill to protect Michael, and she knew it wouldn’t bother her.

    *

    When the buzzer rang, Michael jumped up from the sofa, excitement overriding her worry. Then disappointment struck her hard. It wouldn’t be Sloan. Taking a steadying breath, she checked the small monitor set into the wall beside the elevator. Then she flicked the intercom. Sandy’s voice greeted her.
    “Hi. Sorry to bother you. I know it’s late. Is Dell there?”
    “No. No one’s here. Want to come up?”
    Sandy looked up and down the street, her uncertainty and unhappiness clear even in the small black-and-white image.
    “I’m not having a very good night either,” Michael said. “You don’t have to talk about anything.”
    “Okay. Sure. Why not.”
    Michael disengaged the lock on the front door and watched the monitor until Sandy was inside. Then she went into the kitchen to make tea. A moment later, the tall double doors enclosing the elevator slid back almost soundlessly. She called over her shoulder, “Come on out to the kitchen. Are you hungry?”
    “No,” Sandy said, climbing up onto one of the stools. “Mind if I have a beer instead of tea?”
    “One of those nights, huh?”
    Sandy snorted. “For sure.”
    “So,” Michael said, joining her at the breakfast bar. She handed her a bottle of one of Sloan’s microbrews and set her own tea aside to cool. “Dell wasn’t happy about the job offer?”
    “Oh, she was. She can’t wait to stick me behind a desk.”
    Michael couldn’t help but smile, considering that was how she spent almost all her time. But she understood what Sandy meant. “A little overprotective?”
    Sandy rolled her eyes. “Like working in an office is going to erase the last two years of my life.”
    “Is that what you think she wants?” Michael asked quietly.
    “Don’t you? After all, would you want a whore for a girlfriend?”
    Michael cradled the steaming teacup while she give that some thought. “I would absolutely hate anyone to use someone I loved, physically or in