Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(100)

“I’m not at war with you.” She turned to get her uniform coat from a hook.

“You look a little down.”

“It’s been a long day.”

“Well, if you’re not going to spend Christmas Eve with Mr. Slick, why don’t you spend it with a fellow cop? It’s a bad night to be alone. I’ll buy you a drink, some dinner.”

She kept her head lowered as she buttoned her coat. Christmas Eve alone, or a couple of hours with McNab. Neither were very appealing, but she decided alone was worse. “I don’t like you well enough for you to buy me dinner.” She looked up, shrugged. “We split the check.”

“Deal.”

She didn’t expect to enjoy herself, but after a couple of St. Nick Specials, she decided she wasn’t miserable. At least shoptalk was a way to kill a few hours.

She picked at the chicken nibbles she knew were going to go straight to her ass. Her diet could just go to hell. “How can you eat like that?” she asked McNab, watching with hate and envy as he plowed through a double-crust pizza with the works. “Why aren’t you pig fat?”

“Metabolism,” he said with his mouth full. “Mine’s always on overdrive. Want some?”

She knew better. Fighting off the chunkies was a constant personal battle. But she took half a slice and reveled in it.

“You and Dallas straighten things out?”

Peabody swallowed hard and glared. “She talk to you about it?”

“Hey, I’m a detective. I notice shit.”

The two drinks had loosened her tongue just enough. “She’s really pissed at me.”

“You screw up?”

“I guess. So did she,” Peabody said, brow furrowing. “But I screwed up bigger. I don’t know if I can make it right again.”

“You got somebody who’d go to the wall for you and you screw it up, you fix it. In my family we yell, then we brood, then we apologize.”

“This isn’t family.”

He laughed. “Hell it isn’t.” And he smiled at her. “You going to eat all those nibbles?”

She felt something loosen around her heart. The man might be a pain in the ass, she thought, but when he was right, he was right. “I’ll trade you six nibbles for another slice of pizza.”

Eve made an effort to put the surveillance operation out of her mind. She had good, experienced officers in place, electronic scans set up in a four-block radius. The minute Simon entered the perimeter, he’d be tagged.

She couldn’t wonder, couldn’t question, couldn’t think of where he was, what he was doing. If someone else would die. It was out of her control.

Before the night was out, they’d have him. Her case was solid, and he’d go into a cage. Never come out. It had to be enough.

“You said something about wine.”

“Yeah, I did.” It was easier to smile than she’d expected. The simplest of matters to take the glass Roarke handed her.

“And making love like animals.”

“I recall suggesting that.”

It was simpler yet to put the wine aside and jump him.

Peabody stayed out later than she’d intended, enjoyed herself more than she’d imagined. Of course, she thought, as she clomped up the stairs to her apartment, that was probably the result of the liquor and not the company.

Though, she could admit, McNab hadn’t been as much of an ass**le as usual.

Now that she was pleasantly oiled, she thought she’d like to bundle into her ratty robe, turn on her tree, and curl up in bed to watch some sappy Christmas special on screen. At midnight, she’d call her parents and they’d all get sloppy and sentimental.

It had turned out to be a halfway decent Christmas Eve after all.

She turned at the top of the stairs and, humming a bit, walked toward her door.

Santa Claus stepped around the corner with his big silver box in hand, and beamed at her out of mad eyes. “Hello, little girl! You’re out late. I was afraid I’d miss giving you your Christmas present.”

Oh, Peabody thought. Oh shit. She had a split second to make up her mind. Run or stand. Her stunner was strapped inside her coat, and her coat was buttoned. But the communicator was in the pocket, within reach.

She opted to stand. Straining for a smile, she slid her hand into her pocket, engaged the unit. “Wow, Santa Claus. I never expected to run into you right here in front of my apartment door. Bearing gifts, too. I don’t even have a chimney.”

He threw back his head and laughed.

Eve groaned, rolled over, and stretched. They’d never made it to the bed, but had torn into each other on the floor. She felt bruised, used, and fabulous.

“That was pretty good for starters.”

Beside her Roarke chuckled and slid a fingertip down her warm, damp breast. “I was just thinking the same thing. But I want my Christmas present.”

“Wasn’t that it?” But she laughed, sat up, and rubbed her hands over her hair. “But next year — “

She broke off as she heard Peabody’s voice coming out of a pile of discarded clothes.

Wow. Santa Claus. I never expected to run into you right in front of my apartment door.

“Oh my God. Oh God.” She was already up, ripping at the clothes, dragging on trousers. “Call it in, call it in. Officer needs assistance. Oh Jesus, Roarke.”