Holiday in Death (In Death #7)(54)

“Son of a bitch stuck his hand up me under the table.” Flushed and furious, Peabody was on her feet, hands fisted. “Bastard’s talking about the new play at the Universe and he grabs my crotch. Pervert. You pervert, get up.”

“McNab, stay the hell where you are!” Eve shouted as McNab surged to his feet with murder in his eyes. “Stay the hell where you are, or you’re off. That’s an order. A goddamn order! Maintain. Peabody, for Christ’s sake, put that guy down.”

Even as Eve was pulling the hair out of her head, Peabody hauled Holloway to his feet and hit him again. She’d have gone for three, even though his gold eyes were rolling back white, if Roarke hadn’t stepped through the excited crowd and pulled the rubber-legged Holloway back.

“Was this man bothering you, miss?” Coolly, Roarke hauled Holloway out of reach, kept his eyes level on Peabody’s glinting ones. “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll take care of it. Please, let me get you another drink.” With one hand on Holloway, he lifted Peabody’s glass with his free one, sniffed. “Blitzer, virgin,” he ordered and all three bartenders rushed to comply as he dragged the now struggling Holloway to the door.

“Get your f**king hands off me. That bitch broke my nose. My face is my living, for Christ’s sake. Stupid cunt. I’m suing her crazy ass off. I’m reporting — “

The minute they were outside, Roarke slammed him against the side of the building. Holloway’s head hit the wall with a sound reminiscent of pool balls cracking on the break.

The gold eyes rolled back white a second time.

“Let me give you a clue: This is my place.” Roarke accented the information by rapping Holloway’s head against the bricks again, while, in the van, Eve could only watch and swear. “Nobody paws a woman in my place and walks away on his own legs. So unless you want to try crawling with your limp dick in your hand, you’ll start moving now and thank Jesus only your nose is broken.”

“The bitch asked for it.”

“Oh, now then, that was the wrong thing to say. Entirely.”

“His Irish comes out when he’s pissed. Listen to the music of it,” Feeney said sentimentally as Eve only continued to make violent sounds in her throat.

On what might have been a sigh, Roarke hammered a fist into Holloway’s stomach, kneed him handily in the balls, and let him drop.

He flicked one glance toward the van with what certainly was a quick and wicked grin, then strolled back inside.

“Nice tidy job,” Feeney decided.

“Let’s call a cruiser to pick up that stupid bastard and get him to a health center.” Eve rubbed her eyes. “This is going to look wonderful on the report. McNab, Peabody, maintain positions. Do not — repeat — do not break cover. Christ. When this little party is over, report to my home office so we can try to salvage something.”

At just past nine, Eve paced her home office. No one spoke. They knew better. But Roarke gave Peabody’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“We hit six meets between you, so that’s something. The last two, one for each of you, is scheduled tomorrow noon. Peabody, you’ll report this… incident with Match Two to Piper in the morning. Play it up. I want to see how they handle it. His sheet with them is clear up to now. We have recordings on all meets, but I want both of you to work up individual reports. When we’ve finished the debriefing tonight, you’ll both go home and stay there, keeping your communicators open at all times. Both Feeney and I will be monitoring.”

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant.” Bracing herself, Peabody got to her feet. She swallowed hard, but kept her chin lifted. “I apologize for my outburst during the operation. I realize my behavior could compromise the investigation.”

“The hell with that!” McNab exploded out of his chair. “You should’ve broken his f**king legs. The son of a bitch deserved — “

“McNab,” Eve said mildly.

“The hell with it, Dallas. The bastard got what he deserved. We should — “

“Detective McNab.” Eve snapped off the words and moved forward until they were toe to toe. “I don’t believe your opinion in this matter was requested. You’re now off duty. Go home and cool off. I’ll see you in my office at Central at oh nine hundred.”

She waited while he fought the war between training and instinct. In the end he turned on his heel and stormed out without another word. “Roarke, Feeney, would you give me a moment with my aide?”

“Glad to,” Feeney said under his breath, more than happy to desert the field. “Got any Irish, Roarke? It’s been a long day.”

“I think we can find you a glass.” He sent Eve one quiet look before guiding Feeney out of the room.

“Sit down, Peabody.”

“Sir.” Peabody shook her head. “I let you down. I promised you I would handle myself and the responsibilities you gave me. Then I broke at the first turn. I realize you have every right and reason to take me off the investigation, at least the undercover op, but I’d like to respectfully request another chance.”

Eve said nothing, let Peabody wind down. Her aide was still sheet-pale, but her hands were steady, her shoulders straight. “I don’t believe I mentioned any plans to remove you from the undercover op, Officer. But I did tell you to sit down. Sit down, Peabody,” she said more gently, then turned away to dig up a bottle of wine.