Indulgence in Death (In Death #31)(111)

She cut him off, tapped the ’link against her palm. “They do think I’m stupid.”

“Pissed-faced and stupid,” Roarke added. “They’ll double-team you.”

“Absolutely. Feeney.”

“I’ve got it.”

“McNab, take the wheel while I bring in the teams. I want street level and I want no more than two blocks from the target site.”

“You got it.”

“What are you doing on that thing?” Eve asked as Roarke worked on his PPC.

“Bringing up the floor plans of the church again. You’ll want to refresh your sense of the place.”

“He thinks like a cop,” she said to Feeney. “He hates when I say that, but what’re you going to do? Dudley said twenty, so he’ll be there in fifteen or sooner. I’ll need to hoof it in those bastards for a block, from the east, in case one of them’s watching for me. Dudley’s using,” she added. “His pupils were the size of dinner plates. Moriarity’s likely had a few hits, too.”

“Don’t think that makes them less dangerous,” Roarke said.

“No, I don’t. But it’s what’s making them careless, what’s pushing them as much—more, I guess, than the show we put on for them earlier.” She took the PPC from Roarke, studied it. “Okay, as we laid out when Baxter’s team reported the droid’s movements, we put men here and here.”

She looked at Peabody, got a nod. “Second team outside, covering the exits. I want them kept back until we know both subjects are inside, and I don’t want anybody breaking cover until I give that go. Clear?”

“Yes, sir. I’ll go in now, take this position. McNab—”

“I’ll take the other.”

Peabody started to speak, but subsided when she saw the look in Roarke’s eyes.

“All right. The two of you take the inside positions.” Eve would have offered Roarke her clutch piece but she knew damn well if Summerset had gotten the change of clothes for her, he’d have gotten a weapon to Roarke. She didn’t want to know how he’d gotten one through security.

“I want inside, Dallas.”

She glanced up at McNab as he maneuvered the van to the curb. He could irritate the hell out of her, but she trusted him to the bone. “You take position with Peabody. I’d better not hear any sex giggles.”

She tapped her ear. “Copy that. Dudley’s on the move. Stay where you are, Carmichael, until Moriarity makes his move. Give him room. Team A better get its asses to church.”

Roarke leaned to her, spoke with his lips against her ear. “Think twice before you let them put a single mark on you if you want them in one piece and conscious for your arrest.”

Before she could speak, he turned his head, pressed his lips firmly to hers. “Take care of my cop,” he told her, and jumped out the back after Peabody.

Eve reached for the shoes, met Feeney’s bland stare. “What?”

“I didn’t say a word. We got some body armor if you want it.”

“Makes me look fat,” she said and made him laugh.

“Wouldn’t help anyway if they try a head shot. Here.” He reached in one of the drawers, pulled out a bottle.

“Christ, Feeney, I’m not going to drink that, and I’m sure as hell not going to drink before I run this op.”

“You’re going to swish it around in your mouth and spit it out.” He held a glass out along with the bottle of Irish. “You want them to think you’re drunk enough to fall for this crap, walk into their half-assed trap? You should smell drunk.”

“Good point.”

She took it, swished it, and while swishing dabbed some on her throat like perfume to make him laugh again. Then spat. Leaning forward she huffed out an exaggerated breath in his face. “How’s that?”

“You’ll do. Are we having cow meat burgers tomorrow?”

“Probably.”

“I could go for a fat one. How about pie? Is there going to be pie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Lemon meringue pie. That’s what you want at a summer barbecue. Maybe strawberry shortcake.”

“I’ll get right on that—as soon as I avoid being murdered.”

“My granny used to make lemon meringue pie. It got these little beads of sugar on the meringue. She could bake a goddamn pie, my granny.”

“Yum. Dudley’s heading toward the church.” She rose, practiced pulling open the jacket, pulling her weapon. “That’ll work. All teams hold positions. Dallas, on the move.”

“You ought to wobble some, in case they get eyes on you.”

She stepped out the back. “That’s no problem in these shoes.”

“Good hunting.”

She shot him a grin as she shut the door.

She took her time, played her attitude in her head. She spotted her cops, but she knew where to look. She staggered into the church.

He’d lit some of the fake candles, she noted, so the light shifted and swayed. She took a couple more unsteady steps until she stood in the aisle formed by the back pews. “Dudley, you asshole.” Her voice echoed. “You better not be wasting my time.”

“I’m here.” His voice shook. She supposed he hoped it sounded fearful, but she caught the edge of laughter. “I—I wanted to be sure it was you. That he didn’t follow me.”