Leverage in Death: An Eve Dallas Novel (In Death #47)(112)

He dropped his brow to hers a moment. She let him have the moment, took it for herself. But pushed back when he started to lift her.

“You’re not carrying me out of a scene loaded with cops.”

“Then you’re not arguing about a trip to the nearest health center.”

“Let’s just start with the on-scene medical. Okay?”

“We’ll start there.”





23

She suffered the exam, the treatment, the blockers, ice patches, healing wands. But drew the line at the pressure syringe and tranqs.

“I’ve got to finish this,” she argued. “I can’t finish it if I’m dopey.”

“You could do with the tranqs and sleep,” Roarke argued back. “You’ve got your men in cages. A few hours won’t change that.”

“I need to finish it while they’re on the ropes. If the father comes through—and he’s due to make contact within the hour—I need to push it, end it, close it. I don’t want them figuring out how to slither out of any of it.

“After,” she promised. “I won’t need a tranq to sleep. You drive, okay? You can fill me in on the way to Central. I’ve got cops taking statements from Chenowitz and his family. I can follow up there later.”

He studied her face, the mouth still raw and puffy, the eyes—both—with purpling bruises to match the marks on her jaw.

“I shouldn’t let you win this one.”

“I took everything but the tranq. That oughta count.”

“I suppose it does.” He slid an arm around her, took some of her weight as they walked to the car.

“When he pulled out the detonator, my heart stopped.” She eased carefully into the car. “My life stopped. I knew you’d have gone back for Chenowitz. No way you’d have left him in that vest.”

“She wouldn’t leave him,” Roarke replied. “Jolie, his wife. She’d have run out the moment I cut her loose—to get to her son. I convinced her she’d put the boy in more danger, that you’d protect him.”

“You had that right,” Eve agreed.

“But then she wouldn’t leave her husband. He begged her to, but she wouldn’t, so I had a choice. Knock her unconscious, carry her out, or deal with the explosives then and there. A bit tricky, but not as complicated as I’d feared,” Roarke explained.

“He never anticipated anyone attempting to diffuse. Especially this one. He was going to kill them all,” Eve stated as a fact.

“Now they’re safe. Salazar rushed in moments after I diffused, locked it in a bomb box, and that’s that,”Roarke concluded.

“Tuned them both up this time. Iler wasn’t there to cool him off. And he’d have sent Chenowitz out at dawn, down to the building Iler bought—in the Nordon name—where a crew of about six, maybe eight would be setting up for rehab. Five more charges set in there, Salazar said, for a chain reaction.”

“Buy a property, over insure it, destroy it, collect. Classic,” Roarke said. “Chenowitz—the successful builder devoted family man—blows up his own crew.”

“It didn’t matter he’d never be able to collect on this one. He’d have won, completed the mission, and that’s what counted. In his mind, the military let him down, betrayed him. His brothers, his family, all Blue Falcons.”

“Blue Falcons.”

“Military term,” she told him, closing her aching eyes for a moment. “Stands for buddy fuckers.”

“Ah. And in his mind, Silverman was the buddy who’d been fucked.”

“He and Iler fed off each other. Iler’s got the funds, the financial know-how, Silverman’s got the tactics, the explosives training. And they both used what they had to twist the memory of a hero, for fun and profit.”

She took a long breath. “I need to round up Reo, Mira, send an update to Whitney.”

“You should text Peabody, let her know you’ve got them both. It’s still shy of midnight on the coast.”

“I don’t want to hear about time zones.”

She made the tags, sent the update, wrote the text, then eased out of the car—as carefully as she’d eased in—when they reached Central.

“It’s going to take me a while,” she began. “I know you’ll want to observe when I have them in the box, but you should find a place to chill until then.”

“I’ll wander up to EDD.” He took her weight again as they crossed to the elevator and in. “I can let Feeney and Callendar know in more detail what I’ve pulled out of Iler’s e’s. I’d wager they’re back at it.”

“Good thinking.” She leaned against him. “You make a hell of a Peabody.”

“The highest of compliments.” He tipped her face up, kissed her bruises. “I should have punched him harder.”

“Just hard enough.” She stepped to the doors when they opened on her level. “Tell Feeney I still want whatever he can dig out.”

“Understood.”

She glanced in both directions, saw the all clear as the doors started to close. “I love you.”

He stopped the doors with a hand. “Come in here and say that.”