Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,96
was forgiven, she went back to Santiago’s report. She added it to her book, updated it.
She read Peabody’s report, added that.
Sitting back with her pie, she studied the board. What was meringue anyway? Why was it so damn good?
She grabbed her signaling comm.
“Carmichael, what’ve you got?”
“Turns out the car-rental guy moonlights as a dancer—nice abs. We tracked him down. He remembers Cobbe—the high-dollar rental, the accent. He said Cobbe mentioned he was in New York on business for a couple weeks, came off pleasant. The security check went through smooth. You can see from the paperwork, Cobbe gave them the hotel where he stayed for the Modesto murder as his New York address, and the address on his license, when we ran it, is actually a department store in Dublin, so phony-baloney, but it’s good phony ID.”
“Two weeks. So he’s ready to put in some time. Okay, good work. Go home.”
“Might stay for another dance. They’ve got bar food.” She sobered. “We’re closing in, Dallas. I tried to bet Santiago we’d have him within twenty-four, and he wouldn’t take the bet. Detective I’ll-Bet-On-Anything wouldn’t take the bet because he thinks the same. Tell Roarke we’re all over the motherfucker.”
“I will.”
She got up, walked into his office, where he sat, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, hair tied back.
Work mode.
“I put Carmichael and Santiago off duty. Carmichael says to tell you we’re closing in. Santiago won’t bet on it because he believes it, too. And they’re all over the motherfucker.”
“It’s appreciated.”
“Any luck refining?”
“Some. These are my top four, currently.”
He brought a map on-screen, highlighted four locations. “This one is on the edge of what most would deem walkable from the locations he frequented, and it’s not what we’ll call a rental for shady characters. It’s a small, converted warehouse, furnished and available to rent by the week or month. Its advantage to him would be it still has a covered loading dock.”
“For the vehicle.”
“Yes. And is advertised as offering full, state-of-the-art security, and an indoor lap pool in a fully outfitted fitness area. A quick inquiry tells me it was rented the morning after the Modesto murder for immediate occupancy—and for the month.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “A definite check-it-out.”
“Another is, as you see, a bit outside the area, but again it suits. A gated home, with garage. It’s owned by a rather nefarious Russian, whose name I imagine Abernathy would recognize.”
“Friend of yours?”
“Not at all, not even back in the day. The other two are more convenient for his shopping route, but neither offer off-street for the vehicle. Still, both are well situated, and according to my information, offered at a price, or as a favor, to certain types.”
“We check them all.”
“I have three others, more distant.” He highlighted them for her. “Unless he’s after a strong walk, he’d likely use public transpo or the car for the shopping areas.”
“Send the first four to me, to Feeney. We’ll start there.”
“Easily done,” he said, and did so.
“Why don’t we take a couple hours’ downtime? It’s going to be a long night. Longer if we hit.”
He glanced up at her, then grabbed her hand. He tugged her into his lap before she evaded. “I don’t think either of us would sleep before this.”
“You’re tired.”
“I am that.” He nuzzled her neck. “There are other ways to recharge body and soul.” He skimmed his teeth along her jaw. “I’ve had a need for you all this day. A terrible need to just lose myself in you. Let me,” he said before his mouth took hers like a man starving for it.
Where had this been with the fatigue and the stress? she wondered. Where had he hidden away this need that erupted from him and burned into her?
She shifted to wrap around him, to offer, to take, then jerked back. “Jesus, I’ve got switchblades up my sleeves.”
“Then have a care.” He shot his hands under her shirt to take her breasts. “And don’t stab me with them.”
He made her breathless, already breathless. “I can deactivate them.” Her head fell back as his mouth, his hands, roamed, possessed. “Take them off. I can—”
He just boosted her up onto his command center, dragged open her belt. “A terrible need,” he said again, unbuttoning her trousers as she pushed up on her elbows.
“I get it, I get it, and it’s contagious. I just need a minute to—”
His hands slid over her, his fingers into her.
“Never mind, never mind.” The orgasm ripped straight up her center. “Jesus, never mind!”