by J. D. Robb
“Let me see your feet,” Trina demanded, rounding the desk.
Eve Dallas, who had faced death and spit in its eye, went into full retreat. “No. My feet are fine.”
“Haven’t used the pedia-care kit, have you?” Then Trina’s eyes, with their rainbow lids and gold lashes, widened in shock. “Did you cut your hair?”
“No.” Eve grabbed it with a protective hand, nearly stumbled over the chair.
“Don’t you lie to me, girlfriend. You took the scissors to it, didn’t you?”
“No. Not exactly. Hardly at all. I had to do it. It was getting in my eyes. I barely touched it. Damn it.” She decided it was time to plant her feet. “It’s my hair.”
“It is not your hair, not once I’ve had my hands in it. Do I come down to your police station and strut around with a badge on my tit, or go out on the streets and hunt up bad guys so I can kick their ass? No! And this is what you do not do. You do not, ever in this lifetime or the next, mess with my work.”
Trina heaved a breath. “Now, I’m going down and getting my kit so I can deal with the mess you’ve made of yourself.”
“That’s nice, really, but I don’t have time for—” Eve winced as Trina fisted her hands on her hips. “That would be great. Thanks.”
When Trina strode out, Eve stepped up to Mavis, gave her a hard look, and took her wine. She downed it, then scowled at her friend and her husband. “The first one who smirks eats this glass.”
chapter twenty-one
She was up by six, and dove into the shower. She intended to round up her troops by eight, report to Whitney, then contact Karen Stowe.
She intended for Yost to hear the cage door clang behind him by noon.
“You’re looking pleased with yourself, Lieutenant,” Roarke said as he stepped under the spray behind her.
“I will be in a few hours.”
“Perhaps we can make it sooner.” He moved in, slid his hands up her body, over her breasts.
“Wanna play water games, hot shot?”
“I’ll spot you ten points to the goal,” he offered and nipped her shoulder.
“Keep your handicap.” She reached around to run a hand down his flank, then felt a hard pull in her belly as his fingers slid over and tugged her nipples. “You got that gunk on your hands?”
“Trina assures me hot water only enhances the benefits. God knows you’ve got it hot enough.”
“And I was here first, so don’t even think about changing the temp.” She breathed deep, let her system relax. “I have to admit, it feels better when you put that stuff on than when she does.”
“It’s flavored.” He turned her around, dipped his head, sucked her in. “Apricot.”
“Yeah.” Eve let her head fall back. “You definitely have the superior technique. Keep going.”
Her blood hummed, and her mind, which had been razor-sharp on wakening, clouded. Steam billowed around them, thickening the air until her lungs clogged with it.
Then his hands were on her face, and his mouth crushed to hers.
He wanted to fill her, had to fight back the urge to take quickly and sate that need that had woken with him that morning. She was wrapped around him, her mouth open and avid. Her hips moved against his, a steady invitation.
Yes, he wanted to fill her. And instead, let her fill him.
Long, slim, sleeked with wet, she aroused him. He could live on the taste of her, the sharp heat of it. And when he used his fingertips to urge her up, to nudge her over, he swallowed that heat, and the strangled cry of pleasure that rode on it.
Every inch of her body throbbed. He could bring her that. Did bring her that, time and again. And she could feel his muscles quiver and know she brought the same to him.
Damaged, he’d said he’d been, and God knew so had she. Yet somehow they continually managed to heal each other.
There was no past when they came together.
Swamped with love, aroused beyond reason, she roped her arms around his neck. “Now, now, now!”
He drove into her, drove hard as they both seemed to need it. She cried out again, fisted her hands in the wet silk of his hair. When he lifted her hips, she hooked a leg around his waist.
And watched him. Watched him as he watched her. Tasted his breath as he tasted hers.
Slowly. Long, slow, and deep until her eyes began to swim with the pleasure of it. Endless, unspeakable pleasure that rolled inside her belly and up to the heart.
On a moan, she found his mouth with hers and poured herself into him.
And taking her, loving her, he emptied himself into her.
“Eve.” It was all he said, all he thought, as he held her close under the torrent of water.
She stroked his back and hoped his heart was soothed. “Handicap, my butt.”
It made him chuckle, as she’d hoped. “Next time you can spot me. Christ.” He sniffed at her shoulder. “You smell fabulous.”
“I ought to, with all that stuff Trina poured, rubbed, and dumped all over me last night. And a lot of help you were,” she remembered, pulling back. “Where were you when she was threatening me with one of her temp tattoos?”
“Otherwise engaged. If you’d give her an hour once a month, she wouldn’t be annoyed enough to ambush you.” He decided it was best if he told her, rather than letting her find out on her own. “And, Eve, about the tattoo?”
“What?” She’d started out of the shower, stopped dead with a look of such horror he had to fight back a laugh. “She didn’t. I’ll kill her.”
She raced to the mirror, and knowing Trina’s favorite spot twisted around to look at her own ass. “Goddamn it! She got me. What the hell is it? A pony? Why did she paint a pony on my butt?”
“I believe, if you look closer, you’ll see it’s a small donkey. Or what might be referred to as a jackass.”
“Oh great, oh very funny.”
“I suppose we can conclude she wanted to make a point.”
“I bet she didn’t leave any remover around either. You tell anybody—”
“My lips are sealed. It’s kind of cute, actually, the way it’s kicking up its back legs.”
“Shut up, Roarke. Just shut up.” And to make sure of it, she slammed into the drying tube.
By nine, Eve had a tactics team placed in strategic spots on Second Avenue. They had orders to observe and report only, unless flagged. Trina’s friend, who turned out to be a reasonably sensible woman, manned the main counter at the wholesale shop. Peabody, in soft clothes, replaced the scheduled clerk at another, and McNab, dressed as only he could, stood in as a customer.
Eve would have bought his cover in a heartbeat. If anyone looked less like a cop than McNab in a puce skinsuit and chartreuse knee boots, she’d like to see him.
She set up in the storeroom, watching the store on monitor with Stowe.
“Before this goes down, I want to thank you for coming through on your promise.”
“Let’s just get it done.” Eve glanced at the long-barreled blaster holstered on Stowe’s hip. “I need him alive.”
“Yeah.” Stowe drew the weapon, turned it to show Eve it was set on medium stun. “I thought about doing it otherwise. Thought hard about it. Imagined it.” She holstered the blaster again. “But it wouldn’t bring Winnie back. We’ll take him breathing.”
In the sales area, Peabody bore down and stepped to where McNab loitered at the end of her station. “I’m going to apologize for starting that argument yesterday. It was an inappropriate comment made at an inappropriate time.”
“Yeah.” He had brooded over it all night. Brooded over her. And did she have to look so pretty today? Did she have to be wearing a soft-looking dress and pink lip dye? Was she trying to kill him? “Forget it.”
“If we forget it, we’ll do it again. You’re Feeney’s man, and I’m Dallas’s. That means we’ll be working together a lot. Maybe we made a mistake and started doing more than working together, but there’s no point in having that screw up both of us
on the job.”
“You figure it was a mistake. Just like that?”
His tone made her want to snipe back, but she reined herself in. “No, not really. I don’t think it was a mistake, it just worked around to one.” One she wished she could fix more than she’d expected. How could she have known she’d miss the skinny jerk? “I’d like to try to get past it, and go back to where we can be professional.”
He’d have liked to go back, too. Back to that storeroom so that he could make it all come out different. “Okay, fine. I can chill with that.”
“Good. That’s good.” But it didn’t feel all that good. “Look maybe we could . . .” She trailed off as a customer walked in.
McNab took a moment to swear under his breath, then straightened to begin the practiced rap about a new hair reconstructive serum.
Eve checked her wrist unit. Eleven thirty-eight. The civilian clerk was holding up well. Apparently Peabody and McNab had negotiated a truce.
She hoped things were going as smoothly for Feeney and Roarke at the hotel. She pulled out her communicator to check on the status there, and it beeped in her hand.
“Dallas.”
“Lieutenant, subject approaching target area, on foot. Heading south on Second Avenue, crossing on Twenty-fourth. Subject is alone, wearing a light brown overcoat, dark brown trousers.”
“Positive ID?”
“That’s affirmative. We have him in view, approaching Twenty-third. Should be in your target, thirty seconds.”
“Stand by. Do not move in unless ordered. Peabody, McNab, you copy?”
“That’s affirmative.”
“All teams, keep communications open. Saddle up, Stowe,” Eve said. “And let’s take this bastard. I’m going out the back to circle, cut off his Second Avenue exit. Wait until he’s in the shop. We’ll back you up.”
“I owe you.” She kept an eye on the monitor, and a hand on the door.
Eve darted out the back, jogged around to the corner. She came up half a block from Yost, matched her pace to his brisk stroll.
When he reached for the shop door, she slid her hand inside her jacket.
And saw Jacoby race across the street, weapon drawn.
“FBI! Freeze!”
She didn’t have time to swear. She kicked in, closed the distance, and was still three feet away when Yost whirled and met Jacoby head-on.
It was like watching a unibike plowed down by an airbus.
“Down! Police! Get down!” She mowed through pedestrians, her weapon snapping into her hand. She saw Jacoby hit the pavement, heard her communicator go wild.
With no chance for a clear shot, she ran in pursuit as Yost surged south, knocking bystanders aside, dodging his way into the street and into traffic.
“Hold fire! Hold fire!” One ill-aimed blast, and civilians would be hit.
For a big man, he moved fast, and he moved smooth. He swung west at the next corner, dragging a glide-cart over with brute strength. It tumbled into Eve’s path, spilling its guts over street and sidewalk and causing its operator to shriek.
Rather than skirting it, she jumped on, took one running step over its side and, using it as a springboard, leaped.
The momentum bought her half the distance.
“Crossing to Third. Vehicular backup! Give me vehicular backup. I am in pursuit of suspect, and crossing Third at Twenty-second.”
To free her hand, she jammed the communicator in her pocket, bore down, and made another leap.
She caught Yost midbody. It was like hitting a slab of reinforced steel. She’d have sworn her bones rattled. But the tackle took him down to one knee. Before he could shove her aside and scramble up, she had her weapon pressed to the pulse in his throat.
Where it was lethal.
“Do you want to die?” she asked. “Want to die on the street like a sidewalk sleeper?”
Even as Yost raised his hands, she heard feet pounding behind her. McNab, sweat streaming down his face, chest heaving, moved into position, his weapon aimed at Yost’s head.
“He’s covered, Lieutenant.”
“On your face, Sly. Spread them.”
“There seems to be some mistake,” Yost began. “My name is Giovanni—”
“On the ground.” She pushed up with her weapon. “Belly down, or my finger’s going to slip.”
He spread himself out on the sidewalk, arms twitching as she yanked them back to cuff his wrists.
It couldn’t be, was all he could think. It couldn’t end for him like this, facedown on the street like a common criminal. “I want an attorney.”
“Yeah, I’m real worried about your rights and obligations right now.” She dug in his pockets, came out with an empty pressure syringe. And a length of slim silver wire. “Well, well, look what I found.”
“An attorney,” he repeated in his high voice. “I insist on being treated with respect.”
“Yeah?” She stood up, planted her boot on his thick neck. “You be sure to tell the guards and your fellow inmates at Penal Station Omega you insist on respect. They don’t get a lot of laughs up there. Call for a cooler, McNab. I want this guy on ice.”
“Yes, sir. Dallas? Your nose is bleeding.”
“Bashed it into him with the tackle.” She swiped at it with the back of her hand, looked down at the bright red in disgust. “Jacoby?”
“I don’t know. I had to jump over him to pursue. I think Stowe stayed back with him.”
“It’s her collar, McNab.”
“Aw, jeez, Dallas.”
“That’s how it is. You’re out of shape, Detective. Start spending some time in the gym so you don’t pant like a dog when you run a few blocks.”
She nodded as black-and-whites screamed to the curb and members of the tactical team streamed down the sidewalk. “Here’s your ride, Sly.”
He looked up, saw her face, saw the faces of onlookers who tried to crowd in and stare. “I should have killed you first.”
“Yeah, there’s that hindsight thing. Hold this asshole for Special Agent Karen Stowe. He’s hers. I’m Mirandizing him on her behalf.” She crouched down, waited until Yost looked into her eyes.
“Winifred Cates was a friend of Agent Stowe’s. I’m doing this for her. You’re under arrest for assault, battery, sexual assault, and the murder by contract of various individuals whose names will be listed at the time of your booking. And that’s just in this state. I’m tossing in resisting arrest, assault on a federal officer, destruction of property, and fleeing the scene of a crime. Interpol and Global will be right behind me with their party favors. You have the right, you miserable son of a bitch, to remain silent.”
Eve walked back toward Second Avenue favoring her left shoulder. She’d jammed it hard against Yost’s kidney area and it ached like a bad tooth. Her nose was throbbing in counterpoint and felt as if it had spread across her face and into her ears.
She’d have plunked down a hundred dollars for a bag of ice.
“Sir!” Peabody sprinted to the corner, took one look at Eve’s face and winced. “Ow.”
“Am I messed up?” Eve lifted hesitant fingers to her nose. Hissed.
“Just a little swollen. It’d be worse if you’d broke it. Looks like it bled really good.”
“Which explains why small children ran screaming when I passed by. Where’s Stowe?”
“Inside. We got the word you brought Yost down. Sir, I would have pursued as backup, but McNab ordered me to stay, and Agent Jacoby was down.”
“You did right, so did McNab. What’s the status on Jacoby?”
“I don’t know. Stowe’s in contact with the MTs. Yost caught him with a pressure syringe, heavy barbs, dead in the heart. Dallas, he went down like a tree under the ax. By the time Stowe and I got to him, his heart had stopped. We administered CPR, and the MTs’ response was fast. They zapped him, got a rhythm. He was still unconscious when they took him off-scene.”
“Even blind ambition and gross stupidity don’t deserve a stopped heart
. Stand by, Peabody. Keep this area clear. No statements to the media at this time.”
Eve swung inside. Trina’s helpful friend was sitting on the floor, her head back, and what looked like about ten ounces of red wine in a water glass. She gave Eve a wavery smile and kept sipping steadily.
“Are you all right? Do you need medical attention?”
She held up the glass. “This is all the medical attention I need. I’m going to drink this, go home, and sleep for eight hours.”
“I’ll arrange your transportation. You know it’s essential you speak to no one about what happened here this morning until you’re cleared to do so.”
“Yeah, you drilled me.” She studied Eve’s face. “I got some products that’ll help with that swelling and bruising. It’s great for after major face and body sculpting work. You want some free samples?”
“I’m okay. Where’s Agent Stowe?”
“In the back.”
“Don’t go anywhere,” Eve told her, then pushed through into the storeroom.
Stowe paced a line through the boxes as she talked on her pocket-link. “Keep me apprised of his status. You can reach me at this number at all times. Thanks.”
“Jacoby?” Eve asked.
“In a coma.” Stowe shoved the ’link in her pocket. “Critical. His heart—they may have to try to replace it. He took a direct hit. Clicked him off like a switch. I should have gone with him. He’s my partner. I wanted to see you. Needed to tell you. I didn’t tip Jacoby. He must have sensed something was up and tailed me. I didn’t tell him about this. I didn’t break faith with you.”
“If I thought you had, I wouldn’t have Yost on ice waiting for you to book and interview.”
Stowe turned and faced Eve. “You tracked him, set up the op, and you took him down. It’s your collar, Dallas.”
“We made a deal. You stuck to yours, I stuck to mine. He’s at Central, maximum holding. They’re expecting you.”
Stowe nodded. “You ever need a favor from the Bureau, it’s yours.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. You’ve got to stall him on the lawyer, keep him incommunicado until after oh two hundred hours. You have a little delay getting to Central, the paperwork gets lost for his transfer to your authority.”