J. Robb - Betrayal in Death

"As I said, Dallas is for me. In my time and in my way. You aren't contracting for her, therefore you aren't involved and have no say in the matter. I'll complete your contract."

On the table, over the spotless white linen, Yost's fist bunched and began to pound, softly, rhythmically. "She owes me, and she will pay. Consider this: With her death, Roarke will only be more distracted and make your job that much easier."

"She is not your target."

"I know my target." The pounding increased until he caught himself, flexed his big hand. No, he realized with some annoyance, he wasn't as mellow as he'd believed. There was a terrible anger inside him. And something he hadn't felt in so long he'd forgotten the taste of it.

Fear.

"He'll be terminated tomorrow, on schedule. And there won't be any cause for concern about Roarke hunting either of us after I deal with the cop. I intend to eliminate him. For that, you will pay."

"You succeed with deleting Roarke within the time agreed upon in our addendum, you'll collect your fee. When have I ever failed to pay off a contract?"

"Then, were I you, I'd begin making arrangements to transfer funds."

He cut transmission abruptly, pushed from the table, paced. When he felt the worst of the rage ebbing, he made himself go upstairs, into the attractive office where he'd set up his portables.

Sitting, ordering his mind to clear, he brought up the public data on Eve. And for some time he sat, studying her image and her information.

Roarke didn't quite make it to Eve's office. He found her down the corridor, in front of one of the vending machines. She and the machine appeared to be in the middle of a vicious argument.

"I put the proper credits in, you blood-sucking, money-grubbing son of a bitch." Eve punctuated this by slamming her fist where the machine's heart would be, if it had one.

Any attempt to vandalize, deface, or damage this unit is a criminal offense.

The machine spoke in a prissy, singsong voice Roarke was certain was sending his wife's blood pressure through the roof.

This unit is equipped with scaneye, and has recorded your badge number Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. Please insert proper credit, in coin or credit code, for your selection and refrain from attempting to vandalize, deface, or damage this unit.

"Okay, I'll stop attempting to vandalize, deface, or damage you, you electronic street thief. I'll just do it."

She swung back her right foot, which Roarke had cause to know could deliver a paralyzing kick from a standing position. But before she could follow through he stepped up and nudged her off balance.

"Please, allow me, Lieutenant."

"Don't put any more credits in that thieving bastard," she began, then hissed when Roarke did just that.

"Candy bar, I assume. Did you have any lunch?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know it's just going to keep stealing if people like you pander to it."

"Eve, darling, it's a machine. It does not think."

"Ever hear of artificial intelligence, ace?"

"Not in a vending machine that dispenses chocolate bars."

He made the selection for her.

You have selected the eight-ounce Royal Chocolate Dream Bar. This food produce contains sixty-eight calories and two point one grams of fat. Its ingredients include soy and soy byproducts, non-dairy milk substitute, the chemical sweetner trademarked as Sweet-T, and the trademarked chocolate substitute Choc-O-Like.

"Sounds just yummy," Roarke said and retrieved the bar.

This product has no known nutritional value and may cause irritability or wakefulness in some individuals. Please enjoy your selection and your day.

"Up yours" was Eve's suggestion as she ripped off the wrapper. "They stole my candy again. I taped it on the back of my AutoChef. Two bars of the real stuff, not this chemi-mix crapola. They tagged it. I'm going to catch them sooner or later and peel the skin off their face. Slowly."

Still, the first bite perked her up. "What are you doing here?"

"Adoring you. Absolutely." Unable to help himself, he took her face in his hands and kissed her hard. "My God, what did I ever do before you were there?"

"Jeez, cut it out." Even as the thrill whipped through her, she scanned the corridor for eavesdroppers and Peeping Toms. She'd be razzed for a week if anyone had spotted them. "My office."

"Happy to."

He walked with her, moved through the door just behind her, then yanked her back to indulge in a deeper, longer kiss.

"I'm on duty." She murmured it against his mouth as her brain went to fizzle.

"I know. Just a minute." One day, he thought, he might actually get used to the way the love for her, the need for her, could leap up and grab him by the throat. But in the meantime, he'd just enjoy the ride.

"Okay." He drew back, ran his hands from her shoulders to her wrists. "That should hold me."

"You blow the top of my head off." She shook it clear. "Pow. A lot better than fake chocolate."

"Darling Eve, I'm touched."

"Yeah, and this was fun, but I've got a briefing coming up. Why are you here?"

"I wanted to buy you a candy bar. By the way, did you know Peabody and McNab have had a spat?"

"I hate that word. They've had something, just like I told you they would, and it's your fault for giving McNab advice. I sent Peabody off to take a soother or something and lie down."

"Did you talk to her about it?"

"No. No, I didn't, and I'm not going to."

"Eve."

The way he said it, with just a hint of censure, put her back up. "We're working here. You know murder and mayhem, law and order, little stuff like that. What am I supposed to do when she comes moping in here all teary-eyed?"

"Listen," he said simply, and took the wind out of her sails.

"Oh, man."

"In any case," he continued, amused. "I came by to let you know I have a dinner meeting with Magda and her people. She wanted you to come, but I've explained you're booked. I shouldn't be late."

She choked back a little sigh. "If you let me know where the meeting is, and when, I'll try to swing by if I get loose."

"I don't expect you to squeeze it in."

"I know. I guess that's why I'll try to swing by."

"Top of New York, eight-thirty. Thank you."

"If I'm not there by nine-fifteen, I'm not going to make it."

"That's fine. Is there any progress I should know about in my capacity as consultant?"

"Not much, but you can sit in on the briefing."

"I can't. I'm due in midtown shortly. You can give me a private briefing tonight." He lifted her hand, kissed the knuckles she'd bruised punching the vending machine. "Try to get through the rest of the day without fighting with another inanimate object."

"Ha-ha," she said when he walked out.

Then, because she could, she moved to the door and watched him go. The man has a great ass, she thought as she nibbled on her candy bar. A truly great ass.

She pulled herself back, gathered the files and discs she needed for the briefing, and headed off to the reserved conference room to set up.

She'd barely begun when Peabody came in. "I'll do that, Lieutenant."

Her eyes were dry, Eve noted with relief, her voice steady, and her spine straight.

Eve opened her mouth, nearly asked Peabody if she felt better before she realized the danger of that. Like quicksand, that sort of comment or inquiry would suck you right down into the muck of dialogue about a subject you prefer to pretend didn't exist in the first place.

So she stood back and kept her mouth shut, firmly, while Peabody loaded discs and stacked hard copies of the updates on chairs.

"I also have the record of the media conference, Lieutenant. Do you want me to load it?"

"No, that goes home with me, for my personal viewing pleasure. Did you catch it?"