by J. D. Robb
Eve’s vision wavered as if she’d suddenly stepped over her head into a tankful of water. Through the ripple, she saw Casto, could smell the faint scent of soap and sweat on his skin. But she couldn’t home in on what he was doing there.
“What’s going on, Casto? We get a call?” Blankly, she looked around for Peabody, saw the shimmering red drapes that were supposed to add sensuality to a room designed for quick, cheap sex. “Wait a minute.”
“Just relax.” He didn’t want to give her another dose, not in addition to what she’d been drinking at her hen party. “The door’s locked, Eve, so you can’t go anywhere. You’ve got a nice buzz on to make it easier all around.” He pushed a satin-edged pillow behind his back. “It would have been easier still if you’d just let go. But you didn’t. You won’t. Jesus Christ, I can’t believe you put the hammer on Lilligas.”
“Who—what?”
“The florist on Vegas II. That’s cutting it too damn close. I’ve been using the bastard myself.”
Her stomach tilted nastily. When she tasted bile at the back of her throat, she leaned forward, stuck her head between her knees and concentrated on breathing in and out.
“Downloads make some people nauseous. We’ll go with something else next time.”
“I missed you.” She tried to focus on keeping the heavy, greasy food she’d celebrated with instead of liquor from spewing back up. “I fucking missed you.”
“Yeah.” He knew she wasn’t speaking out of sentiment.
“You weren’t looking for another cop. Hey, why should you? And you had your own worries. Broke the rules, Eve. You know the primary is never, ever supposed to get personally involved. You were too worried about your friend. I admire that, really, even if it is stupid.”
He took her by the hair, dragged her head back. After a quick check of her pupils, he decided the initial dose would hold her for a while. He didn’t want to risk overdosing her. Not until he’d finished.
“And I do admire you, Eve.”
“You sonofabitch.” Her voice slurred over her thickened tongue. “You killed them.”
“Each and every one.” Relaxed, he crossed his feet at the ankles. “It’s been hard to hold it all back, I’ve got to admit. Rough on the ego not to be able to show a woman like you what a smart man can accomplish. You know, Eve, I was a little worried when I learned you were in charge of Boomer.” He reached out, ran a fingertip from her chin down between her breasts. “I thought I could charm you. Gotta admit you were attracted.”
“Get your hand off me.” She slapped out at it, missed by several inches.
“Your depth perception’s off.” He chuckled. “Drugs mess you up, Eve. Take it from me. I see it every shitty day on the streets. Got sick of seeing it. That’s how it started. All those fancy dudes making their fancy profits and never getting their manicures sticky. Why not me?”
“For money.”
“What else is there? I fell into the Immortality connection a couple years back. It was like kismet. Early days then, took my time, did my homework, used a source on the Eden Colony to slip me a sample. Poor old Boomer ferreted it out—my connection from the Eden Colony.”
“Boomer told you.”
“Sure he did. He had something in the Illegals market, he came to me. Didn’t know I was already in on it, not then. I kept it under wraps. I didn’t know Boomer had a copy of the fucking formula. Didn’t know he was holding out, hoping for a nice big chunk.”
“You killed him. You broke him to pieces.”
“Not until it was necessary. I never do anything until it’s necessary. It was Pandora, you see, that beautiful bitch.”
Eve listened, fighting to bring her brain and motor skills back into mesh while Casto spun her a tale of sex, power, and profit.
Pandora had spotted him at the club. Or they’d spotted each other. She’d liked the idea that he was a cop, and the kind of cop he was. He’d be able to get his hands on lots of goodies, wouldn’t he? And for her, he’d been happy to do so. He’d been enchanted with her, obsessed, and yes, addicted. No harm in admitting that now. His mistake had been to share his information about Immortality with her, to listen to her ideas for cashing in. Huge profits, she’d predicted. More money than they could spend in three lifetimes. And youth, beauty, great sex. She’d become addicted to the drug quickly, always hungered for more, and she had used him to get it.
But she had been useful, too. Her career, her fame, had made it easy for her to travel, to carry more of what was then being manufactured exclusively on Starlight Station in a little private lab.
Then he’d discovered she’d brought Redford in on the deal. He’d been furious with her, but she’d been able to string him along with sex and promises. And the money, of course.
But things had started to go wrong. Boomer had pushed for money, had pocketed a bag of the drug in powder form.
“I should have been able to handle him. Little wart. Trailed him here. He was flying, running his mouth, tossing the credits I’d given him to keep him quiet around like candy. I couldn’t know what he’d said to that damn whore.” Casto shrugged. “You figured that out yourself. Right scenario, Eve, wrong person. I had to take her out. I was in too deep for mistakes by then. She was just a whore.”
Eve leaned her head back against the wall. Her head had nearly stopped spinning now. She thanked God the dose had been light. Casto was on a roll. She could keep him talking. If she couldn’t get the hell out on her own, someone was going to come looking for her soon.
“Then you went after Boomer.”
“I couldn’t go to his flop and drag him out. My face is too well known around there. I gave him a little time, then I contacted him. Told him we’d be able to deal. We needed him in on our side. He was stupid enough to buy it. Then I had him.”
“You messed him up first. You didn’t kill him quick.”
“I had to find out how much he’d let out, who he might have talked to. He didn’t deal well with pain, our Boomer. Spilled his guts. I found out about the formula. Really pissed me off. I wasn’t going to mess up his face like the hooker’s, but I lost it. Plain and simple. Got emotionally involved, you could say.”
“You’re a cold bastard,” Eve muttered, making her voice weak and blurry.
“Now that’s just not true, Eve. You ask Peabody.” He grinned, gave her breast a quick tweak that sent fury and rage cycling to her gut. “I went for DeeDee when I realized you weren’t going to take a nibble. Too wrapped up in that rich Irish bastard to take a look at a real man. And DeeDee, bless her, was ripe for plucking. Never could get much out of her on what you were up to, though. DeeDee’s got good cop all over her. Slip a little help into her wine, though, she gets more cooperative.”
“You drugged Peabody?”
“Now and then, just to pump her for any details you might have left out of your official report. And to keep her sleeping pretty when I had to go out at night. She was an airtight alibi. Anyway, you know about Pandora. That went pretty much as you had figured, too. Only I was staking out her place that night. Scooped her up the minute she came storming out. She wanted to go to that designer’s. We’d pretty much finished up our sexual relationship by then. Just business now. I figured why not take her? I knew she was working to cut me out of the whole deal. She wanted it all. She didn’t think she needed some street cop hanging on, even if he was the one to give her the damn stuff to begin with. She knew about Boomer, too. But that didn’t bother her. What did she care about some dirty alley croucher? And she never thought, never considered that I’d hurt her.”
“But you did.”
“I took her where she wanted to go. I’m not really sure if I was going to do it then, but when I saw the security camera smashed, it seemed like a sign. Then the place was empty. Just her and me. They’d hang it on the dressmaker, right? Or on the little lady she’d had a fight with. So I hit her. The first strike took her down, but she was up again. That shit made her strong and mean. I had to keep h
itting her, and hitting her. Fucking blood flying. Then she was down for good. Your little friend came in, and you know the rest.”
“Yeah, I know the rest. You went back and took the box with the tabs. Why did you take her palm ’link?”
“She always used it to call me. She might’ve recorded the numbers.”
“Cockroach?”
“Just something extra in the mix. To confuse things. Cockroach was always willing to sample a new product. You were hammering away, and I wanted a hit where I was well alibied, just in case. So I had DeeDee.”
“You got to Jerry, too, didn’t you?”
“Easy as a walk on the beach. Get one of the VT’s stirred up with a quick buzz, wait for the chaos. I had a reviver for Jerry, brought her around and had her out of there before she knew what was happening. I promised her a fix, and she cried like a baby. Morphine first so she wouldn’t get any idea about not cooperating. Then Immortality, then a dash of Zeus. She died happy, Eve. Thanking me.”
“You’re a humanitarian, Casto.”
“No, Eve, I’m a selfish man looking out for number one. And I’m not ashamed of it. I’ve got twelve years on the streets, wading through blood, vomit, and come. I’ve paid my dues. This drug’s going to give me everything I’ve ever wanted. I’ll take my captaincy, and with that kind of connection, I’ll feed profits from the drug into a nice numbered account for four or five years, then I’ll retire to a tropical island and sip mai tais.”
He was winding down now, she could tell it from the tone of his voice. The excitement, the arrogance had cooled to practicality. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
“I know that, Eve. It’s a damn shame. I all but handed you Fitzgerald, but you just wouldn’t let it be.” With what might have been affection, he brushed a hand over her hair. “I’m going to make it easy on you. I’ve got something here that’ll take you down gently. You won’t feel anything.”
“That’s damn considerate of you, Casto.”
“I owe you that much, honey. Cop to cop. If you’d let it lay, after your friend got off, but you wouldn’t. I wish things had been different, Eve. I had a real taste for you.” He leaned close, so close she felt his breath waft over her lips as though he were indeed about to taste her.
Slowly, she lifted her lashes, looking through them into his face. “Casto,” she said softly.
“Yeah. Just relax now. Won’t take long.” He reached for his pocket.
“Fuck you.” She brought her knee up hard. Her depth perception was still slightly skewed. Rather than connecting with his groin she knocked solidly into his chin. He went backward off the bed, and the pressure injector in his hand skittered over the floor.
They both dived for it.
“Where the hell is she? She wouldn’t have walked out on her own party.” Mavis tapped her spiked heels impatiently as she continued to scan the club. “And she’s the only one of us still sober.”
“Ladies’ room?” Nadine suggested, half-heartedly tugging her blouse over her lacy bra.
“Peabody’s checked twice. Dr. Mira, she wouldn’t have made a run for it, would she? I know she’s nervous, but—”
“She’s not the running kind.” Though her head was still revolving, Mira struggled to keep her speech coherent. “We’ll look around again. She’s here somewhere. It’s just so crowded.”
“Still looking for the bride?” Grinning widely, Crack lumbered up. “Looks like she just wanted a last ride. The dude over there saw her slip into one of the privacy rooms with a cowboy type.”
“Dallas?” Mavis snorted at the thought of it. “No way.”
“So, she’s celebrating.” Crack lifted his shoulders.
“Got plenty more rooms, ladies, if you got an itch.”
“Which room?” Peabody demanded, sober now that she’d thrown up everything in her stomach including, she was sure, a good portion of the lining.
“Number five. Hey, you want a gang bang, I can round up some nice young boys for you. All sizes, all shapes, all colors.” He shook his head as they marched off, and decided that he’d better go along to keep the peace.
Eve’s fingers slipped off the injector, and the elbow to her cheekbone sent pain grinding down her face and into her teeth. Still, she had first blood, and the shock of finding her ready to fight had shaken him.
“You should have given me a bigger dose.” She followed up the statement with a short-armed punch to his windpipe. “I wasn’t drinking tonight, asshole.” She managed to roll him over. “I’m getting married tomorrow.” She punctuated this by bloodying his nose. “That was for Peabody, you bastard.”
He caught her in the ribs and winded her. She felt the injector pass over her arm and heaved up by the hips to kick. She would never know if it was blind luck, her lack of depth perception, or his own miscalculation, but he dodged to avoid the gut thrust, and her feet, coming up like pistons, caught him square in the face.
His eyes rolled back in his head; his head hit the floor with an ominous and satisfying thud.
Still, he’d managed to get more of the drug into her. She crawled, drifting in the sensation of swimming through thick, golden syrup. She made it to the door, but the lock and its key code appeared to be twelve feet above her grasping hand.
Then the door burst open and all hell broke loose.
She felt herself lifted, patted down. Someone was ordering in no-nonsense tones that she be given air. Giggles bubbled up in her. She was flying now, was all she could think.
“Bastard killed them,” she kept saying. “Bastard killed them all. I missed it. Where’s Roarke?”
Her eyelids were pulled back and she would have sworn her eyeballs rolled like fiery little marbles. She heard the words “health center” and began to fight like a tiger.
Roarke descended the stairs, a grim set to his mouth. He knew Feeney was still upstairs, huffing and blowing, but he was convinced. A business deal of the size of Immortality’s potential required an expert and an inside connection. Casto filled both those bills.
Eve might not want to hear it, either, so he wouldn’t mention it. Yet. Feeney would have three weeks to poke around while they were on their honeymoon. If there was indeed going to be a honeymoon.
He heard the door open and angled his chin. They were going to have this out once and for all, he determined. Here and now. He took two more steps, then was down the rest of them in a dead run.
“What the hell happened to her? She’s bleeding.” There was blood in his own eye as he snatched a limp Eve from the arms of a seven-foot black in a silver loincloth.
As everybody began talking at once, Mira clapped her hands like a schoolteacher in a room of rowdy students. “She needs a quiet room. The MTs treated her for the drug, but she’ll have some residual effects. And she wouldn’t let them deal with the cuts and bruises.”
Roarke’s face went stony. “What drug?” His gaze latched on Mavis. “Where the hell did you take her?”
“Not her fault.” Still glassy-eyed, Eve wrapped her arms around Roarke’s neck. “Casto. It was Casto, Roarke. Know that?”
“As a matter of fact—”
“Stupid—stupid to miss it. Sloppy. Can I go to bed now?”
“Take her upstairs, Roarke,” Mira said calmly. “I can tend to her. Believe me, she’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be fine,” Eve agreed as she floated up the stairs. “I’ll tell you everything. I can always tell you, can’t I? ’Cause you love me, you sap.”
There was only one piece of information Roarke wanted at the moment. He laid Eve on the bed, took a good look at her bruised cheek and swollen mouth. “Is he dead?”
“Nope. I just beat the hell out of him.” She smiled, caught the look in his eye, and shook her head slowly. “Nuh-uh, no way. Don’t even think about it. We’re getting married in a couple hours.”
He smoothed the hair back from her face. “Are we?”
“I figured it out.” It was hard to concentrate, but it was important. She lif
ted her hands, cupped his face to keep it in focus. “It’s not a formality. And it’s not a contract.”
“What is it?”
“It’s a promise. It’s not so hard to promise to do something you really want, anyway. And if I’m lousy at being a wife, you’ll just have to live with it. I don’t break my promises. And there’s this one other thing.”
He could see her slipping, and shifted slightly so that Mira could tend the cut on her cheek. “What other thing, Eve?”
“I love you. Sometimes it makes my stomach hurt, but I kind of like it. Tired now, come to bed. Love you.”
He eased back to let Mira get on with her tending. “It’s all right for her to sleep?”
“Best thing for her. She’ll be fine when she wakes up. Maybe a little hungover, which seems unfair since she didn’t drink anything. She said she wanted a clear head for tomorrow.”
“Did she?” She didn’t look calm when she slept, he noted. She never did. “Will she remember any of that? What she was telling me?”
“She may not,” Mira said cheerfully. “But you will, and that should do the job.”
He nodded and stepped back. She was safe again. One more time safe. He glanced over at Peabody. “Officer, can I count on you to fill me in on the details?”
Eve did have a hangover, and wasn’t pleased about it. Her stomach was tied in greasy knots, and her jaw was sore. Between Mira and Trina’s wizardry with cosmetics, the bruises didn’t show. As brides went, she supposed, studying herself, she was passable.
“You look mag, Dallas.” Mavis sighed and took a slow turn around Leonardo’s finest hour. The dress sleeked down, as it was meant to, the bronze tone adding warmth to Eve’s skin, the lines highlighting her long, lean form. Its very simplicity made the statement that it was the woman within who counted.
“The garden’s packed with people,” Mavis went on cheerily as Eve’s stomach roiled. “Did you look out the window?”