Rapture in Death (In Death #4)(55)

“You’re my control, Peabody. If I look too happy to live shortly, zap me. Replay last run program,” Eve ordered and settled back. “Jesus.” She hissed it out as two young studs walked toward her. Dressed only in strips of glossy black leather studded with silver, they were oiled, muscled, and fully aroused.

Her environment was now a white room, mostly bed, and there was satin under her naked body, gauze draped overhead to filter the candlelight from a soaring chandelier of glittery crystal.

Music, something low and pagan, throbbed on the air. She was draped over a mountain of feather pillows, and as she started to shift, the first young god straddled her.

“Hey, listen, pal — “

“For your pleasure only, mistress,” he crooned and rubbed her br**sts with scented oil.

This is a bad idea, she thought as little involuntary shivers of pleasure centered in her gut. Oil was slicked over her stomach, her thighs, down her legs to her toes.

She could understand how the current situation could make a woman strip and smile, but not how it could drive her to suicide.

Stick it out, she ordered herself and turned her mind to something else. She thought of the report she needed to give her commander. Of unexplained shadows on the brain.

Teeth closed delicately over her nipple, a tongue slid wetly over the captured point. She arched in reaction, but the hand she shot out in protest slipped off a taut, oil-slicked shoulder.

Then the second stud knelt between her legs and went to work on her with his mouth.

She came before she could stop herself, a small pop of release. Panting, she ripped the goggles off and found Peabody gaping at her.

“It wasn’t a walk on a quiet beach,” Eve managed.

“I could see that. What was it, exactly?”

“A couple of mostly naked guys and a big satin bed.” Eve blew out a breath, set the goggles down. “Who’d have thought she relaxed with sex fantasies?”

“Ah, Lieutenant. Sir. As your aide, I believe it’s my responsibility to test that unit. For evidence control.”

Eve tucked her tongue in her cheek. “Peabody, I couldn’t let you take that kind of risk.”

“I’m a cop, sir. Risk is my life.”

Eve rose, held out the goggles as Peabody’s eyes lit. “Bag it, Officer.”

Deflated, Peabody dumped the goggles into a seal. “Hell. Were they good looking?”

“Peabody, they were gods.” She stepped back into the office proper, gave it one more scan. “I’m going to order in sweepers, but I don’t think they’ll find anything. I’ll take the disc you downloaded into Central, contact next of kin — though the media will already have this all over the f**king airwaves.”

She hitched up her field kit. “I don’t feel at all suicidal.”

“I’m relieved to hear it, Lieutenant.”

Still, Eve frowned at the goggles. “How long was I riding that, five minutes?”

“Nearly twenty.” Peabody gave a sour smile. “Time flies when you’re having sex.”

“I wasn’t having sex.” Guilt had her worrying her wedding ring. “Exactly. If there’d been something in that program, I should have felt it, so that looks like a dead end. Have it analyzed anyway.”

“Will do.”

“You wait for Feeney. Maybe he’ll find something interesting on her ‘link logs. I’m going to go grovel to the commander. When you finish here, deliver the bags to the lab, then report to my office.” Eve started for the door, tossed a look over her shoulder. “And Peabody, no playing with the evidence.”

“Spoilsport,” she muttered when Eve was out of earshot.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Commander Whitney sat behind his massive, well-organized desk and listened. He appreciated the fact that his lieutenant delivered a clean and concise report, and he admired that she could omit certain details without a flicker.

A good cop had to stand cool under fire. Eve Dallas, he was pleased to know, was ice.

“You had the autopsy data on Fitzhugh analyzed outside the department.”

“Yes, sir.” She didn’t blink. “The analysis required more sophisticated equipment than NYPSD currently has access to.”

“And you had access to this more sophisticated equipment.”

“I was able to gain access.”

“And run the analysis?” he asked, quirking a brow. “Computer science is not your strong suit, Dallas.”

She looked him dead in the eye. “I’ve been working on improving my skills in that area, Commander.”

He doubted that, sincerely. “Subsequently, you gained entry to the files at the Government Security Center, and there, confidential reports fell into your hands.”

“That’s correct. I don’t wish to reveal my source.”

“Your source?” he repeated. “Are you telling me you have a weasel at GSC?”

“There are weasels everywhere,” Eve said coolly.

“That might fly,” he murmured. “Or you might find yourself facing a subcommittee back in East Washington.”

Eve’s stomach shimmied, but her voice stayed steady. “I’m prepared for that.”

“You’d better be.” Whitney sat back, steepled his hands, tapped his fingertips against his chin. “The case on the Olympus Resort. You also accessed data there. That’s quite a bit out of your jurisdiction, Lieutenant.”