Seduction in Death (In Death #13)(106)

"Think." Roarke laid a hand on Eve's shoulder before she could speak. "Will he run?"

She drew herself in, forced herself to see through the rage. "No. It's still a contest. Just a different game. He intends to win. But he's pissed because I changed the board on him, so he's likely to do something rash. He's spoiled, and he's angry. We need to put a flag on the lab work. We need positive identification of the chemical samples taken from the townhouse."

"Already done," Whitney told her. "I spoke with Dickhead -- Berenski," he corrected, "on the way here. You have a positive match for the illegals found in the victims. Using that evidence and the judge's relationship to the accused, the PA has filed for immediate revocation of bond."

"Will he get it?"

"We'll know within the hour. Regretfully, I'm going to have to countermand my order for you to get eight hours' sleep, Lieutenant. Your day isn't finished. Nor is mine," he added. "I'll go back to Central and stand by. With any luck, you'll be picking Dunwood back up tonight. I intend to go with you."

"With me? But..." She caught herself in time, swallowed the words back. "Yes, sir."

"I put my time in on the streets, Lieutenant. I can assure you, desk jockey or not, I'm not dead weight."

"No, sir. No disrespect intended. With your permission, Commander, I'll tag Feeney, have him snatch up McNab so they can put in time tonight on the electronics we have in Evidence."

"It remains your case. Plug the holes. I'll contact you as soon as I have word from the prosecutor."

"Commander." Roarke kept his hand on Eve's shoulder. He could feel her vibrating under it -- revving to act, to do. "Have you had dinner?"

"Not as yet. I'll catch something at my desk."

It took two squeezes of Roarke's hand on her shoulder for Eve to clue in. "Um. Why don't you have something here, Commander? Save yourself some travel time."

"I don't want to put you out."

"It's no trouble at all," Roarke assured him. "I'll keep you company while Eve makes her calls." He gestured to the doorway. "Your family's well, I hope."

Eve took a deep breath and watched them leave the room. She wasn't sure which was weirder -- her commander settling down to have dinner in her house or him settling down to have that meal in the company of a man who'd spent the majority of his life successfully breaking every law on the books. And some that hadn't even been written.

"All-around weird," she said to Galahad. And leaving the socializing to Roarke, she headed up to her office to get back to work.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Because she understood his feelings exactly -- and his way with words when riled was even more inventive than she was -- Eve let Feeney rant, rave, and spew.

And didn't mention the fact that he'd answered the 'link wearing pajamas with little red hearts on them and that the music in the background was some bass-voiced singer crooning about making sweet love to his woman.

It seemed she wasn't the only one who'd had seduction in the plans for the evening.

"We'll get him back," she said when Feeney ran down to sputters. "I'm going to order surveillance on the mother's place and his townhouse. I don't think he'll rabbit, but I don't want to risk it. Get me something on those electronics, Feeney. Find me something to add to the pile."

"Judge oughta be stripped down, dragged through the streets, with a big sign that says BRAIN-DEAD FUCKFACE tied to his dick."

"Yeah, well, that's a pleasant and satisfying image, but I'll settle for a quick overturn on the bail. You'll tag McNab."

"Probably bouncing on Peabody," Feeney barked. "Talk about rabbits."

Eve decided it showed great restraint and sterling character for her not to mention the heart pajamas at such a prime opening. "If he is, I don't want to know about it, but you can tell Peabody to stand by for data. You pull anything out, she can follow it through."

"You don't want her with you on the take-down?"

"No, I've got another cop coming along. Whitney."

"Jack?" Feeney's drooping face brightened like a boy's. "No shit?"

"No shit. What do I do with him, Feeney? If we run into anything hinky, am I supposed to give him orders?"

"You're primary."

"Yeah, yeah." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'll play it by ear. Get me something. Oh, and Feeney? Love the pjs."

She broke transmission. Okay, maybe she didn't have such a sterling character.

She called in, requested surveillance on the two locations, then got up to pace off the time.

What was taking the PA so long? She should probably go downstairs. And play hostess. She was better at it than she'd been a year ago. Not good at it, but better. Still, she usually did that duty when there were groups, business dinners, or parties where there were so many people, giving anyone a lot of personal attention wasn't necessary.

Casual conversation and small talk were Roarke's strengths not hers. She took the coward's way and stalled by going back to the bedroom for her weapon harness.

The minute she strapped it on, she felt more in control.