“You never know.” But she dressed, and added the murderous shoes. “Appropriate?”
“You’re perfect.” He framed her face with his hands. “Perfect for me.”
“We’re supposed to be pissed at each other, remember. You need to get in character.”
“I never have a problem acting pissed at you.” When he grinned, he brushed his lips over hers. He laid his forehead to hers briefly at the knock on the door, then crossed over to answer.
“Peabody, you look lovely.”
“Thanks.” She lifted her hands, palms up to Eve. “Well?”
She also wore black, young and funky, with a brightly striped sleeveless vest that covered her sidearm. With her hair done in crazed corkscrew curls, her eyes lined in emerald green, and her lips as red as Eve’s shoes, Eve was forced to agree.
“You’re right. They won’t make you.”
“McNab and I are heading out now so we’ll already be in place when the subjects get there. Detective Carmichael and the new guy will take the ballet. Baxter’s waiting for the go, then he’ll have both search units move in.”
“Good work, Peabody.”
“See you at the bar.”
“She’s juiced,” Eve commented. “She took a booster earlier, but this is just juice. Because we’re close, because we’re going to bring them in before much longer. Bring them in, sweat them, break them. End it.”
“Someone else is juiced.”
“Bet your ass, ace.” She did a couple of squats and pivots to see how the dress cooperated. “Can you tell I’m loaded? The weapon,” she elaborated when he smiled at her.
“I can. They won’t. You know, I’m starting to enjoy this whole business myself.”
“Wait till I unload on them.” She tore open the jacket, pulled her weapon. Slapped it back in its harness. “You’re going to get a serious charge.”
They walked into the elegant lounge with its deep ruby and rich sapphire tones in what appeared to be a low-voiced continuation of an argument. When Roarke cupped her elbow, she deliberately jerked it away, let her voice spike up.
“Don’t try to placate me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. Two,” he said to the hostess who, admirably, kept her face blank and polite. “Roarke.”
“Yes, sir, of course. I have your booth ready. Just this way.”
“You know the kind of pressure I’m dealing with,” Eve continued, keeping her eyes on Roarke. “The commander’s setting up permanent residence on my ass.”
“It would be a lovely change of pace if we could spend one bloody evening not discussing your commander, your problems. Whiskey,” he told the hostess. “A double.”
“And for you, madam?”
“Head Shot, straight up.”
Roarke leaned into her as if murmuring something, and she jerked back. “Because I need it, that’s why. Look, I’m here, aren’t I? Which is more than you’ll be tomorrow since you’re leaving town. Again.”
“I have work, and responsibilities, Eve.”
“So do I.”
“Yours don’t put toys like this on your ears,” he said and gave one of her earrings a flick of his finger.
“I earn those other ways, and don’t you forget—” She broke off as if just spotting Dudley and Moriarity. “Oh, that’s perfect. That’s just fucking perfect.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. I’m sick of orders. I’m the top murder cop in this goddamn city, and I’m getting zip from the department on this, and less than zip from you. Well, fuck that. I’m getting some of my own, and right now.”
She shoved out of the booth, and he timed his lunge to stop her seconds too late.
She had to admit striding the few short feet to the next booth in the killer red heels felt powerful.
“You think I’m stupid?”
“Lieutenant Dallas.” All concerned charm, Dudley reached for her hand. “You seem upset.”
“You touch me and I’ll haul you in for assaulting an officer.” She slapped her palms on the table between them, leaned in. “I know you killed Delaflote and Jonas, probably the others, too, but those I know.”
“I think you must be drunk,” Moriarity said, very quietly.
“Not yet. Believe me when I tell you I’ll make a case. I don’t care how long it takes or what it takes. You’re not going to beat me at my own game. This is what I do.”
“Eve.” Roarke stepped up to her, gripped her arm. “Stop this. We’re leaving.”
“Your wife seems very upset and not a little deranged.” Dudley smiled. “You don’t appear to be able to control her.”
“Nobody controls me, asshole. You want to leave.” She turned on Roarke. “Fine. Go. Why don’t you just go wherever you’re shuttling off to right now instead of tomorrow and get off my back?”