Vendetta in Death (In Death #49) - J. D. Robb Page 0,86
in more now that I know you hang here.” She took another tiny sip of beer. “Maybe you wanna party?”
“Might. What’s the rate?”
She gave him a smile, ducked her head, tapped a finger on the beer. “You already made a down payment.” She took another sip as she reached over, pressed her hand to his crotch. “You want more, why don’t you finish your beer?”
She leaned in, leaned close. His gaze fixed on her breasts. He didn’t see her pour the contents of a vial in his shot glass.
“Then we can go outside, work out the rate.”
A hell of a lot better than a ball game, he decided. He drained his beer, tossed back the bump. “Let’s go.”
They walked out together, his hand squeezing her ass—and her hand signaling the droid and car on the device in her little purse.
He started to stumble before they reached the corner. She just laughed, held him up, steered him to the waiting car.
“Let’s go for a ride, big guy.”
“Give you a ride. Give you a helluva ride, bitch.”
He passed out before she gave him the second dose. Deciding better safe than sorry, she pinched his nose, tipped back his head, and poured the sedative down his throat.
Pleased, Darla settled back, conserving her energy for the main event.
16
The dreams came, sliding in like curling fingers of fog over a pool of exhaustion. In them she heard the screams of the tortured and tormented rising shrill behind a wide black door. Duty bound, she fought to open it, to break it down, to find the way through while the screams pounded in her head.
Behind her, above her, around her, a voice, calm and quiet as a spring breeze, spoke.
“They get what they deserve.”
“It’s not for you to say.”
“Why not? Why do you get to decide?”
“I don’t.” Pulling her weapon, Eve clicked it on full, blasted it at the door. “The law does.”
“Who makes the law? Men.” The single word snarled. “And you do their bidding.”
“Try that bullshit on somebody else.” Disgusted, Eve searched along the wall, stark white against the black door, for another opening.
Those screams, never ceasing, ripped at her.
“You defend them, even knowing what they are, you stand for them. I stand for the women they abused. I stand for their victims.”
She couldn’t find a way in, couldn’t find a way to stop the screaming.
“You stupid, self-righteous bitch! You’ve made them victims.” She pounded a fist on the wall, took a running leap to kick at the door. Black against white. White against black.
“I bring them justice. They suffer, then their suffering ends. Their victims suffer endlessly. You know! How can you defend them? How, when you know what they’ve done? When it was done to you?”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.”
She whirled around, furious to find herself in a small room, an empty room, only the white walls, the single black door. “I’m going to find you. I’m going to stop you. I’m going to put you in a cage.”
“Why do you care about them?”
The voice, so reasonable, came from everywhere.
“You were betrayed, abused, beaten, raped, trapped, terrified, helpless. You know what we’ve endured as women. You know men use us. You know they thrive on it. But you would turn on me like this? You would seek to stop my justice? Why?”
No way in, Eve thought. No way out.
“Why? Because you’re sick, sadistic. Because you pervert the justice I took an oath to uphold. Because, you twisted excuse for a female, I’m a cop. I’m goddamn fucking Eve Dallas.” She yanked out her badge. “Lieutenant, murder cop, NYPSD. And I will find you. I will open this bullshit door, and I’ll find you.”
This time when she spun around, badge in hand, kicked the door, it burst open.
The screams snapped off. An insistent beeping replaced them.
Shot awake, she slapped out in the dark for her communicator.
“Shit, shit, shit. Block video. Dallas.”
Dispatch, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Report to 53 West 179th. Dead male possibly connected to current case. Officers on scene.
“Acknowledged. Contact Peabody, Detective Delia, request McNab, Detective Ian, accompany her. I’m on my way. Dallas out.”
Roarke brought her a mug of coffee. “I’ll be going along and you’ll have two EDD men.”
“For what it’s worth. Sorry.” She held up a hand as she got up. “Didn’t mean it like that. You’re already dressed. What time is it?”
“Not quite half-five. If you’ll trust me to get your clothes, you can grab your shower.”
“Fine. Good. Thanks.” She shoved at her hair as she strode toward the