The rhythmic pulse of the bass guitar escaped the confines of the nightclub, brushing against my skin like a whispered warning as I hesitated outside the double steel doors. My heart beat picked up speed until the tempo matched the music.

There were no bouncers outside; the club's reputation was security enough. If someone knew of its existence, they also knew the rules. Whatever type of sex, drug or favor a person craved could be bought or bartered for here. It didn't matter if the cost was more than you could afford; payment could be satisfied in a number of ways. Whomever did the collecting was efficient and elusive and my gut told me I'd followed her tonight.

Coming here was probably the most stupid thing I'd ever do. Maybe the last, if everything I believed was wrong. As it was, I wouldn't get any answers any other way. I had to know, so I grasped the smooth handle on one of the doors and pulled.

The brass should have been cold, considering the temperature outside was at best forty degrees, but it felt warm. My mind was already in overdrive and half seriously I wondered if this was the entrance to my own personal inferno. It would at least explain the heat.

It took several seconds for my eyes to adjust. The place looked different at night than it did in the daytime when I'd been here before on calls. It wasn't dark and seedy, but more like shadowy and surreal. Blue lights, oddly the same hue as the ones on my squad car, illuminated the wisps of smoke that hovered above the heads of the patrons, shaping irregular halos that were completely ironic and totally out of place.

No one spoke to me or gave me more than a moment's eye contact, but I knew better than to think I could let my guard down. I needed to act relaxed, like I belonged here, or I'd be in some serious trouble. My badge was clipped just beneath my waistband, on the inside of my jeans. My Beretta, not my issued weapon, was tucked into a holster at the small of my back, hidden under my jacket.

I was fairly certain that nobody would recognize me out of uniform. My hair was down and my glasses were off. That alone should have been enough to throw Reid off track. I don't think she had ever glanced at me a single time in the locker room to realize I had long hair. As far as she was concerned, the uniform cap was permanently affixed to my head. Whatever hair was under there, including length and color, was of no consequence to her. I knew how ridiculous it was to risk my life and career on someone whom I doubted could pick me out of a lineup in civilian clothes, but here I was anyway.

Reid Phillips had been my FTO, or field training officer, when I joined the department. She was an enigma, choosing to remain on patrol when she could have made sergeant, then lieutenant, even though she claimed there were no good recruits left to train.

Everybody in the precinct had their own theory about Reid. Most centered on the speculation that she was a dirty cop and needed to be on the street, not behind a desk, to run her takes. I'd heard all the rumors. Hell, I'd seen some pretty incriminating evidence first hand.

The only hookers she ever brought in were the young ones, the new girls that hadn't been booked before. The known prostitutes Reid left alone, except for occasionally stopping her favorites, hustling them into the nearest alley for longer than a pat down should take while leaving me to watch the car.

Reid was also not above making evidence go away. She'd dumped enough weed that I expected the seeds to take root in the pavement cracks and potholes. There really didn't seem to be a method to her madness and I never actually saw her skim any money during the time we rode together.

Despite her disposition and tarnished reputation, there wasn't another cop who didn't want her for backup. She could sense trouble, have the perp booked and the paperwork done before anybody else could even get their cuffs out. I wanted to be just like her, which is why I'd been shadowing her in my off time, desperate to know the truth.

Maybe I'd read one too many novels, but I had my own suspicions about Reid. I had to prove to myself, if no one else, that she wasn't dirty, but wanted everyone to believe she was. I was betting everything on it.

There were no available stools at the bar and only a few small tables along one back wall. The people in attendance tonight seemed to be occupied with the pursuit of their own pleasure and paid little attention to anyone outside the orbit of the numerous small worlds that existed here. My confidence rose a little. Maybe I could actually pull this off and find my answers.

There was enough room at the far end of the bar for me to stand without invading the personal space of the nearest seated patron. I ordered a beer, which came in the form of a long neck bottle and was welcome in its frosty state. I was overly warm and downed half the contents in a few long pulls.

Lowering the bottle, I scanned the room as best I could. The ebb and flow of bodies made it difficult to see everywhere, but as one group of people parted I had a moment's clear view of the tables. Reid sat facing me with her chair pulled out, legs in a long vee and boots planted firmly on the floor. Her collar length black hair was almost iridescent. Parted to one side and swept over her forehead, it effectively obscured her dark eyes. I couldn't tell if she was looking at me or just in my general direction.

Before I could make myself look away, a woman confidently stepped between Reid's knees and blocked my view. Reid's hands moved to either side of the leather skirted hips, whether to encourage or dissuade further contact I wasn't sure. As the woman leaned forward and placed her palms on Reid's shoulders I turned away, suddenly irritated.

The feeling was so intense it took me by surprise. Though I had no desire to witness a random sexual encounter featuring my former FTO, the brief erotic image was burned into my memory as I closed my eyes and felt the heat rise into my face from points farther south. I willed my hand to stop shaking as I lifted the bottle for another drink and tried to remember exactly why I came.

The press against my back was subtle at first, as though someone was leaning over me to order and I didn't immediately question it. The bartender's eyes drifted above me, then briefly locked with mine before he moved purposefully away. Instinct urged me to turn around, but that was made impossible by the solid form trapping me against the bar.

"You don't belong here."

It was a flat statement, spoken just loud enough for me to hear. Reid's voice was devoid of any emotion and I wondered if she recognized me or if it was a blanket warning issued to every newcomer.

"Neither do you."

The words were out before I could stop them, leaving little doubt that I knew Reid, even if she hadn't yet made the connection herself.

The pressure on my back lessened, giving me room to move. Reid pulled back slightly but didn't allow me more than a few scant inches. Reaching behind me, she picked up my bottle and helped herself to the remaining contents. Wrapping her long fingers around the base, she lightly tapped the rim against my neck.

"Didn't I teach you better than this?" Reid honestly looked disappointed as she stood there questioning me. "Never go into an unknown situation without backup." She shook her head as she guided the mouth of the bottle down to the front of my shirt. Reid slowly rubbed it between my breasts, then traced the underside of each swell.

For an instant all I knew was that it felt good. Then I caught the smirk on Reid's face and my desire was replaced with anger. I grabbed her wrist and jerked her hand and the offending bottle away from me.

"You taught me to trust you for backup," I challenged Reid.

Reid's temper showed in her eyes a split second before she acted. We were pretty evenly matched in height, but Reid had about twenty more pounds of muscle than I did. The struggle, though rough, was brief and I found my right arm locked against my shoulder while I was being shoved through the stockroom door behind the bar.

It was dark but Reid seemed to know her way around. I wondered how many others she had brought back here to be able to do it by instinct and feel. I was pinned up against some shelving as Reid leaned to one side. Reid guided my free hand to the wall and placed it flat against the surface. "Leave that right there," she warned.

I heard the metallic click of the door lock and then a fainter click as the room flooded with light.

"I don't remember you being such a pain in the ass, Morgan." Reid's voice was close to my ear as she shifted, gripping my arm tighter. So she remembered my last name. I wondered if she knew I had a first.

"I don't remember you being such an ass, period. Let me go, Reid," I said calmly. I probably should have been afraid, but I wasn't.

"You aren't in a position to be giving me orders." Reid's voice had lost it's earlier edge and she spoke almost absently while her free hand splayed out across my chest under my jacket. The sudden move caused a sharp intake of breath on my part, unintentionally filling Reid's palm with one breast. We both stilled for an instant before she slid it lower, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of my jeans and pausing when she felt my badge.

Making no comment, her hand continued its exploration and she didn't seem surprised when she felt my gun, only pulled it from the holster and laid it on a nearby shelf. Her hand returned to the small of my back and leisurely traveled around my hips, then circled my stomach, drawing random patterns and causing the muscles there to clinch.

I felt Reid's knee work its way between mine, her boots nudging my feet apart. I took a step to the side to maintain my balance and Reid's hand slid between the opening in my thighs, cupping me.

"What are you doing?" I asked, stiffening in all the wrong places.

Reid pressed her palm hard against me, rocking slowly. My eyes slammed shut and I leaned my forehead on the shelf in front of me. She laughed a short, quiet laugh.

"I'm not looking for a wire, I'm checking for balls. Yours must be made of steel, following me here like this." Pausing in voice but not motion, she continued after a moment. "What's your story, Morgan? I never pegged you for being with Internal Affairs."

The rhythmic pressure against my clit was making rational thought difficult. It was all I could do to keep my traitorous hips still and not to move with her, and I hoped the wetness so obvious to me hadn't made its way to her finger tips yet. Warm, moist air hit my neck as Reid spoke again.

"Is this an approved IA interrogation technique? I didn't realize you were so loyal to the boys upstairs that you'd let me fuck you just because they told you to."

The words were like ice water, clearing my mind and cooling my body. I made a sudden attempt at freeing my arm, but Reid had anticipated that and only held me tighter.

"What's the matter? The truth isn't as pretty up close, is it?" she laughed again, but there wasn't any humor in it.

My shoulder was starting to throb and the pain colored my words. "I'm not with IAD. Nobody sent me; I came on my own." Sweat beaded on my forehead and I tried to take shallow breaths to relieve some of the strain. Reid sensed this and gradually lowered my arm while still keeping a tight grip on my wrist.

"Who do you think you're trying to rescue, Morgan? Me, or yourself? Think about it. I'm not the one who's sixty seconds away from coming in the back room of some shit hole bar."

I wanted to deny it, but it was useless. Reid knew that, and if she kept touching me she would have proof positive. It was pointless to offer anything but the truth.

"You aren't fooling me," I told her. "I don't care what everyone says; you aren't dirty."

Reid exhaled, almost a sound of resignation. "Morgan, there's more than one definition of dirty. And despite your good intentions, if you don't stay the hell away from me I'm going to demonstrate every last one."

I shook then, not from fear but from the images invited by Reid's threat. She felt the tremor, and her intake of breath was a little shaky in response. The hand that had been so busy between my legs now slid back up and undid the button on my jeans. The zipper surrendered next, the rasping sound of its release loud in the quiet room.

"Everything comes with a price, Morgan." Reid's fingers brushed past denim and found damp silk. With her index finger, she traced the edges of the small triangle of thin material. "And I'm not sure you can afford it..." her voice trailed off, then continued, "or that I'm worth it."

My arm was suddenly freed and I felt Reid start to pull her hand from my open fly. The return of circulation burned in my once captive arm and made me clumsy, but I managed to grab Reid with both hands, holding her in place.

She stilled, then leaned close and whispered, "No returns, Morgan," as she guided me to grip the shelving in front of me. "Spread," she ordered and I silently complied, opening my legs as far apart as the jeans would allow.

Reid molded herself to my body from behind, claiming what was offered without hesitation. Impatient hands shoved my bra up and kneaded each breast in turn, pinching and rolling the hardened nipples until they ached.

One hand dived down my stomach and beneath the elastic of my panties. Threading her fingers through the wet curls, Reid tugged, the slight sting both pain and pleasure.

Parting the swollen folds, she scissored my clit between two fingers and squeezed hard. I started to cry out, then remembered where I was and only whimpered instead. Reid's mouth found my neck, gently nipping and licking in sympathy.

Sliding her hand along the curve of my slit, Reid thrust two fingers deep inside, causing me to arch and take more of her in. Easing out, she returned with three and began a steady pumping.

The only sounds in the room were our combined labored breathing and the slick, wet noise as Reid's fingers worked faster. I could feel my inner walls clamping down as the pressure built. Rotating her wrist, she managed to push her thumb against the base of my throbbing clit and I came hard, hanging onto the shelving for balance as I jerked backwards.

Reid supported me, her hand still slowly pumping until my body began to calm. My legs shook when she withdrew, and it took a moment before I could pull my jeans up. My badge felt cold as it touched my overheated skin.

Unsure of what to do, I waited for Reid to say something, anything. I felt her behind me once more, hands lifting my hair from the back of my neck. A whisper of a kiss touched my skin. "I hope it was worth it."

I heard the door open but not close. I exited the room and scanned the bar. Reid was nowhere to be seen. The bartender glanced at me curiously as I made a straight line for the outside doors.

****

Roll call on Friday was the usual routine. Reid sat in the front row, a bored expression on her face. After the Sergeant dismissed everyone, he yelled my name.

"Morgan. You're riding with Phillips."

Reid was already gone and I turned back to the Sergeant in disbelief.

"Since when?" I demanded.

Tipping his glasses down, he glared at me over the frames. "Since today. She put the request in and the LT approved it. Get moving," he ordered.

I knew better than to question him anymore, so I made my way down the stairs two at a time and slammed open the door to the parking lot with both hands. My new partner was waiting by her squad car, the same indifferent expression on her face. I stopped in front of her, torn between anger and smallest glimmer of hope.

"Why?" It was one word, asking a dozen questions. I waited to see if Reid would answer any of them. She motioned me into the passenger seat, evidently not content to let me drive.

"You're just smart enough to be dangerous, too curious to be anything but trouble, and..." Reid turned to face me. "You are too damn beautiful to let out of my sight."

It was enough for now. I was willing to wait for the rest.