Loyalty in Death (In Death #9)(49)

“I hope to Christ you are. Malloy out.”

“Are we under control here, Roarke?”

“Hmm. It’s a clever little bastard. Your terrorists have deep pockets. I could use Feeney,” he said absently, then held out a mini-light. “Hold this.”

“Where?”

“Just here.” He indicated, then glanced at her, noted she was dead pale and clammy. “On your belly, darling. Breathe slow.”

“I know how to breathe.” She snapped it out, then bellied down. Her stomach might have been doing a mad jig, but her hand was rock steady.

“Good, that’s good.” He stretched out across from her so they were nearly nose to nose and went to work with a delicate tool that glinted silver in the lights. “They want you to snip these wires here. If you do, you’ll be blown into several unattractive pieces. They’re a front,” he went on conversationally while he carefully removed a cover. “A lure. They’ve made it to appear to be a second-rate boomer when in reality… Ah, there’s that little beauty. When in reality, it’s top of the line, plaston-driven, with compu-remote trigger.”

“That’s fascinating.” Her breath wanted to come in pants. “Kill the bastard.”

“Normally, I admire your kick-in-the-face style, Lieutenant. But try that with this, and the two of us will be making love in heaven tonight.”

“Heaven wouldn’t have either of us.”

He smiled. “Wherever, then. It’s this chip I need. Turn the light a bit. Aye, that’s the way. I’ll need both hands here, Eve, so I’ll need one of yours as well.”

“For what?”

“To catch this when it pops out. If they’re as clever as I think, they’d have used an impact chip. Which means if this little darling falls, hits below, it’ll take out a good dozen rows and put a very nasty crater in my floor. Very possibly shaking us off our perch here with the backwash. Ready?”

“Oh sure. Absolutely.” She rubbed her sweaty hand on her butt, then held it out. “So you figure we can still have sex, wherever?”

He glanced up long enough to grin at her. “Oh sure. Absolutely.” He took her hand, squeezed it once, then lowered it. You’re going to need to lean out a bit. Keep your eye on what I’m doing. Watch the chip.”

She emptied her mind, shifted so that her head and shoulders were unsupported. She stared at the little black box, the colorful wires, the dull green of the miniboard.

“This one.” He touched the point of his tool to a gray chip no bigger than the first knuckle on a baby’s pinkie.

“I’ve got it. Finish the job.”

“Don’t squeeze it. Be gentle. On three then. One, two.” He slid the tip around the edge of the chip, pried it gently. “Three.” And it snapped out with a quiet click that sounded like a bomb blast to Eve’s ears.

It hit her cupped palm, bounced. She rolled her fingers into a loose fist. “Got it.”

“Don’t move.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Roarke pushed up to his knees, took out a handkerchief. Taking Eve’s hand, he uncurled her fingers and placed the chip in the center of the silk, folded it, folded again. “Not much padding, but better than nothing. He slipped it into his back pocket. “As long as I don’t sit on it, we’ll be fine.”

“Be careful. I like your ass too much to see it blown off. Now, how the hell do we get off of here?”

“We could go back the way we came.” But there was a glint in his eye as he stood. “Or we can have some fun with it.”

“I don’t want any fun.”

“I do.” He took her hand to help her to her feet, then reached out to grip a rope and pulley. “Do you know what today’s matinee was?”

“No.”

“A revival of that longtime children’s favorite, Peter Pan. Hold tight, darling.”

“Don’t.” But he’d already pulled her close and in automatic defense, her arms locked around him. “I’ll kill you for this.”

“The pirates look great swinging to stage on these. Inhale,” he suggested, then with a laugh swung free.

She felt a rush of wind that took her stomach and flung it behind her. Before her glazed eyes, she watched color and shape fly. The only thing that stopped her from screaming was pride, and even that was nearly used up as they flew over the orchestra pit.

Then the crazy man she was somehow married to closed his mouth silkily over hers. A hot little ball of pure lust burned along with terror, and both managed to jelly her knees so they buckled clumsily when her boots hit the stage.

“You’re dead. You’re meat.”

He kissed her again and chuckled against her mouth. “It was worth it.”

“Nice entrance.” Feeney, his face rumpled and weary, walked toward them. “Now, if you kids have finished playing, we’ve got two more of these bastards still armed.”

Eve elbowed Roarke aside and managed to stand on her own. “Civilians out?”

“Yeah, we’re clear there. If they stick to deadline, we should make it. Cutting it damn close, but — “

He broke off as the rumble sounded below and the stage shook beneath their feet. Above, lights and cables swung wildly.