J. Robb: Delusion in Death

“Try it. See if it’s fast enough. Try it! Stun me and find out who lives with it.”

Eve had a quick flash from her dream, of her mother’s face, of that same vicious hate. “I’m not going to stun you. Let’s try this way.” She turned her weapon around, as if to offer it. In the instant Gina glanced down, Eve used her left—a quick, hard, bare-knuckled jab. And found it satisfying to see blood spurt from Gina’s nose.

As she fell back, her hand opened. The vials slipped out. Braced for it, Roarke made the dive, caught them an inch from the floor.

“Just in case,” he said.

“Nice fielding.”

“Thanks. Now I have a bit of a headache. Kidding,” he said quickly when she swung her weapon in his direction. “Just kidding.”

“Ha ha. Move in! Lowenbaum,” she continued as she stepped to Gina, rolled the dazed, moaning woman over to restrain her. “Target’s secured.”

“So I see. All teams, target’s down and secure. Stand down.”

“Thanks for the assist, Doctor Mira.”

“You might’ve given me a clearer picture.”

“Some of it was spur. It was her eyes. I played off her eyes.” Eve turned Gina over again, hauled her up to sit. And looked in her eyes again. “You’re old, and you’re slow—physically and mentally. You lost your way—maybe all those years of living off the fat—the fat you claim to despise. You’d have infected kids, and kids were the new hope, the foundation, the beginning. But you’d have infected them to get to your own. It was never about vengeful gods or Revelation with you. It was about the blood and the death, and your twisted revolution. You let me see that, and gave me the edge.”

“Your end-time will come.”

“Yeah, it will, but you won’t be part of it. Odds are, given you’ve got about a half century on me, yours’ll come first. Whatever time you’ve got left, you’ll spend in a cage. Just like your grandson. Just like Menzini’s legacy.”

“There’ll be others.”

“You keep thinking that. Baxter, you and Trueheart can take the old lady in.”

“Happy to serve.”

“She knows the formula,” Roarke murmured.

“Yeah, which is why Agent Teasdale and HSO will arrange for very special accommodations for her. I think Menzini left a vacancy.”

“Harsh.”

“I imagine it will be.”

“And what would you like me to do with these?” He held out the vials.

“Christ. Let’s get that biohazard team in here, asap ! Peabody, alert Teasdale re our new prisoner. The NYPSD gratefully passes her, and the processing of her properties, to HSO.”

“Got that, all over the place. But … can I have my boots back?” Eve sat to pull them off. “Ouch. I’m hungry,” she realized. “Punching crazy old ladies makes me hungry.”

“I’ll wager they have very nice cannolis.” Roarke smiled at Peabody as she pulled on her boots.

“Hot damn!”

“I’d like to buy you dinner.” Weaver sat, huddled against Marty, while an MT checked her out.

“Rain check. You were right about being good in a crisis, when it counts. You handled yourself, both of you.”

“I was terrified. I thought I was dead.”

“You’re not, and you handled it. We’ll need you to come in, make a statement. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”

“We’ll be there,” Marty assured her.

“Was Lew—was he always what we know he is now, or was it that woman? Did she make him what he is?”

“I’d say some of both. Go on home.” She left them to walk to Lowenbaum, shake hands—and take the boots he carried from him. “Thanks.”

“I had the shot.”

“Too many civilians in potential harm’s way, and I wanted to maneuver her so we had at least a chance of getting the vials.”

“Nice left jab.”

“It’s a favorite.”

Someone called out, “LT!” and both Eve and Lowenbaum turned.

“That one’s mine,” Lowenbaum said.

“Guy back here wants to feed us. Is that a go?”

“What the hell. I could eat. Catch you next time, Dallas.”

Roarke moved to her, stroked a hand down her back. “Which home are we headed to?”

“Central first. I need to tie this up, talk to Teasdale—and pay Lew a quick visit. I want to tell him, to his face, his granny won’t be sending for him. It’s petty, I know. But I deserve a little treat after all this.”

“Speaking of treats. I need a moment in the kitchen.”

“You’re about to get a dozen cannolis,” Eve told Peabody when he walked off.

“Aww.” Peabody flexed her booted feet. “I won’t think about cannoli ass until tomorrow. Maybe not even then.”

“You called it right on her feelings for Callaway. Weak spot.”

“Most of us have them.” Peabody pushed to her feet. “Ms. Weaver, sir, I can arrange for an officer to take you home.”

“Thanks.” Weaver tipped her head to Marty’s shoulder. “I’m just going to sit here a minute until I’m sure my legs will carry me. Then I’d like the walk.” She tipped her face to Marty’s. “All right?”

“Sounds pretty good right now.”

Roarke came out of the kitchen with a large to-go bag.

“What’s that?” Eve demanded.

“Quite a bit of food, I believe. They’re boxing up your cannolis, Peabody.”

“Yum. Thanks.”

Roarke turned to Eve, and with discretion, he covered the recorder she wore. “About that so much sex.”

“It’s still on the agenda. Peabody, finish up here. I’m going in to deal with the official transfer. Then go home. You’re clear.”

“Sing hallelujah.”

“A question,” Roarke said as Eve switched off her recorder. He took her arm and led her outside. “You disabled your primary weapon. What about your secondary?”

“Rigged so it wouldn’t go above medium stun. You can’t kill anybody, even with direct jugular contact, on medium. It seemed safer, in case we got infected.”

“I agree. You know I had a weapon.”

“Yeah, I know.” She sent him a sidelong glance as they reached the car. “Rigged to medium stun?”

“It seemed safer.” He caught her face in his hands, and despite her quick wince in case any cops watched, kissed her, long, tender, deep. “I want to keep you, till the end of days.”

“I can live with that. And I’m damn glad this day is about to end.”

She got in the car, flexed her aching toes. And while he drove, adjusted both her weapons to official ranges.

It was safer that way.