Survivor In Death (In Death #20)(124)

“Sir, you don't look so good yourself.”

“Get that going, I'll worry about how I look.” She started to go out to check on Baxter herself, and saw him being helped toward the house by Peabody.

Her knees trembled in relief. “Should've known the sick bastard wouldn't be dead. Where the hell was my backup, Baxter?”

“Got me dead in the shield. Must've.” He pressed a hand to the back of his head, showed the smear of blood. “Gave me a whale of a kick. Cracked my head on the frigging patio. Got the mother of all headaches.”

“Concussion,” Peabody said. “Needs a health center.”

“See he's transported.”

“What the hell happened here? Anybody dead?”

“One of them,” Eve told him.

“Okay then. Tell me later. Peabody, my beauty, get me drugs.”

Roarke touched her lightly on the back. “Let's have a look at that arm then, and the rest of you.”

“Got a couple of jabs in past my guard. I got a couple of sticks into her. Tit for fricking tat.”

“Your nose is bleeding.”

Eve swiped at it. “I broke hers. See who's the pu**y now. Kicked her ass right through the door, but she was just quick enough to take me on a ride down that flight of stairs with her. Fall--I think it was the fall-- snapped her neck. She was dead when we landed.”

She wrapped a hand around her bloody shoulder, turned toward him. And really saw him for the first time. “You're hit. How bad?”

“He got a couple of streams past my guard,” he said, and smiled. “Hurts like a bitch, too.”

She touched his cheek with her bloody fingers. “Got a black eye coming on.”

“He got worse. Why don't we--oh, well now, that's extreme,” he said when she ripped away the tattered sleeve of his shirt.

“It was trashed anyway.” She poked and prodded at his wound and made him curse in two languages. “Shoulder's nasty.”

“As is yours.” He lifted his brows as two MTs came through. “Ladies first.”

“Civilians first. And I ain't no lady.”

He laughed, and kissed her solidly on the mouth. “You're mine. But we'll suffer through the first-aid together.”

It seemed fair enough, and she could bitch at the MTs, threaten them with violence if they so much as thought of tranqing her. She could coordinate the various teams, get her report on record, and watch three killers--two live, one dead--hauled away.

She'd take her shot at the live ones in the morning.

“I'll go in, take care of the paperwork,” Peabody told her. “There are too many cops volunteering to handle it. One of them's bound to try to get in some kicks for Knight and Preston.”

“We'll take them in separate interviews tomorrow.”

“You might want to send a team over to secure this address tonight. One on West Seventy-third.” Roarke handed her a memo. “I believe you'll find their headquarters.”

She took the memo, and standing in her bloody shirtsleeves now, grinned. “I \new it. Peabody, find uniforms you can trust and have them sit over Kirkendall and Clinton. Call in the team and screw the OF. We're moving on this tonight.”

“Hot damn!”

“E-men first,” she added. “And I want, let me think, I want Jules and Brinkman from Bombs and Explosives. We don't know how they may have that place wired, or what booby traps they might've set inside. I want body armor on everyone, full riot gear. These three may not be it. I'll contact the commander and clear it.”

She turned to Roarke. “You're in if you want it.”

“I can't think of a more entertaining way to spend the evening.”

“Give me five.” She walked away, yanking out her communicator. “That's my weapon, you putz,” she snapped at one of the Crime Scene techs as he bagged it. “Give it back.”

“Sorry, sir, it has to go in.”

“Goddamn it, do you know how long it takes to get--Commander, we have two suspects in custody and one suspect DOS.”

“I'm on my way to the scene now. I'm told four officers, including yourself, are injured.”

“MTs treated on-scene, three are being transported to the hospital. The suspects are secured. We have what we believe is the location for their base of operations. I've called in my team, as well as two members of B and E. As it's more efficiently located to both this scene and the suspected base, I'll be coordinating the maneuver from my home office. With permission, sir.”

“I'll meet you there. How extensive are your injuries, Lieutenant?”

“I'll do, sir.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Okay then,” she muttered when he clicked off. “I want the evidence from this scene so clean I could eat off it,” she told anyone from CSU within hearing. “I want this scene secured so tight a f**king flea couldn't squeeze under a doorway. Any screwups, I'll be eating asses for breakfast.”

She nodded to Roarke, who fell into step beside her. “I love when you snarl. Stirs me up.”

“You'll be plenty stirred before the night's over.” She stepped out, amused when he draped her ruined jacket over her shoulders.