Betrayal in Death

CHAPTER TWENTY

Roarke waited, standing by the south window while Mick put on trousers. He kept his hands in his pockets, his eyes on the trees, and the high stone wall beyond them.

He'd used the trees, the lavish roll of lawn, the flowers, and that stone, to build a place. His place. A spot of beauty and comfort in a world that held too much pain. He'd used it, he knew, to prove to himself that the slums and miseries of Dublin were far behind him, too far behind to pant hot breath on his neck.

And so he had invited into that place, that home, a reminder of what had never really stopped chasing him. He'd invited in a friend of his childhood who had become a betrayer of his present.

"Was it only for the money, Mick? Was it only for the profit?"

"Sure it's easy for you to say that in a deriding voice, Your Highness, when you're rolling in the stuff. Of course it was for the money. Jesus, my take will top twenty-five million at a coast. And it was for the fun. Have you really forgotten how much bloody fun it is?"

"Have you forgotten, Mick, that however shaky the code might be, it sticks when it comes to betraying a friend?"

"Well, for God's sake, Roarke, it's not like it was your money I'm after putting in my pocket." Mick sighed, and buttoning his shirt walked over to fetch the decanter of whiskey. He poured two glasses, and when Roarke still didn't turn at the sound of striking glass, shrugged and sipped his own.

"All right, I admit it was a fine line, and maybe I've stomped over to the other side of it. I've a bit of envy in me for what you've managed to accumulate over the years since we parted ways."

"A fine line?" Thinking of brutal and senseless murder, Roarke did turn. "Is that what it is to you?"

"Listen." Impatient now, and a little embarrassed by it all, Mick gestured with his glass. "I was approached about the job. The actress's son started the ball rolling, and it gathered some steam. By the time it got to me, it was well-formed., The truth is, I didn't think you'd mind so much. Over the past few days I've come to see I miscalculated that end of it considerably. But I was too far into the matter to back out. Now, of course…" He shrugged again, casting off millions as he might a missed meal. "How the devil do you figure it? How'd you know a heist was in the works, and pin it down to me?"

"Connections, Mick." Studying his friend's face, Roarke began to do fresh calculations. "Magda's son to Naples's son, to Hinrick, to Gerade. I found it odd you never mentioned Naples as a possible when Eve asked you about the Hagues in Cornwall."

"Name sort of stuck in my throat, seeing the position I was in. As for Hinrick, he stepped out even before I was in it," Mick told him. "Pissed Naples off royal, I'm told. So you knew about the boy. Pitiful little weasel that gorgeous example of female managed to birth if you're asking me. Had every advantage all of his useless life and still whines for more. Didn't make his own, like you and me."

Mick glanced around the room. He'd enjoyed his stay, on a great many levels. But it looked like he'd be packing his bags sooner than later. "So, what do we do now? You aren't going to turn me over to your lovely wife, the cop, are you? After all, I've not done anything as yet, in actuality."

"I want Naples."

"Ah, now, Roarke, you're putting my ass in a sling there."

"And Yost."

"What in God's green earth have I to do with the likes of Sylvester Yost?"

"You're Naples's man and so is he. And he's killed two of my people so that the lot of you can get closer to the money."

"You're talking gibberish. Yost's not in this. True enough Naples might've put him on Britt and Joe, God rest them. But that's nothing to do with my dealings with the man. I've never met Yost, thank the saints. Never had truck with him. You know that's not my style."

"It hasn't been, but it's been a long time between for us, Mick. Naples set me up, and he's used two of my people like pawns. Today, Yost went for Summerset."

"Summerset?" The liquor left in Mick's glass sloshed. "You're trying to tell me Naples set Yost on Summerset? You've got to be mistaken. What purpose would there be in…"

His eyes never left Roarke's, but they went wide. As his color drained, he reached out blindly for the back of a chair. Levering himself around it, he sat.

"Oh Jesus. Oh Christ Jesus." Because his hands shook, he vised them around the glass, downed the rest of the whiskey. "Are you sure of this? Are you without a doubt sure of this?"

"I am." After a moment, Roarke crossed over, picked up the bottle. He brought it back and filled Mick's glass again. "He's killed two people who work for me, the second being a friend as well. It scatters the focus, draws the police – in the name of my lovely wife – off any scent there might be around the auction."

"No, no, that's why I'm here. To keep you occupied, to get close. That, and me being one of the few around who could set a workable scheme for a job like this. I was to whet your interest in a deal or two. If your cop wasn't busy on her own, I was to keep the two of you bustling around me on a personal level. Charm her, so to speak. And being right inside the house, I'd know, you see, of any changes you'd be making for the security. In addition to that, I could keep the arm on Magda's boy if he waffled. Liza has him under control, but – "

"Ah, I wondered about her. My cop has been busy on her own, hasn't she, Mick? And myself as well. If they'd succeeded with Summerset today, just how much of my attention do you think I'd have left to give to the auction?"

"I didn't know of this." Mick squared his shoulders, looked Roarke dead in the eye. "I swear that to you on my life. I would never have done this. It was a big job, an exciting one, and it gave me the added boost of finally being able to best you in something. I never could, and always wanted to. You were never like the rest of us, you know. You always had something extra. I wanted that. I'd have stolen from you, Roarke, and enjoyed it. I'd have laughed about it, bragged on it, the rest of my days. But not this. I'd never have taken part in murder."

"That was the part I couldn't get to fit."

"Naples took out Britt and Joe? There's no question of that?"

"None."

"And tried for Summerset as well." Mick nodded. "I see how it is then." He drew a long breath. "There are two men inside. One in your special security, one in the hotel. Monroe and Billick. The job's set for tomorrow. Two in the morning, precisely. At that time a maxibus and a car will have an accident at the east corner near the hotel. The bus will turn over, slide into the jewelry shop. They've hired a hell of a driver. Do you remember Kilcher?"

"I do."

"This is his son, and he's even better than his old man. There'll be a small fire, and an enormous mess. The cops, the security, even the fire department will be out there, dealing with it, handling the looters, and so forth. At the same moment, a delivery van will pull into the proper entrance of the hotel. We'll be six, and armed with tranqs. We'll take out those of your staff we must. I'll be handling your security. I've worked it to jam to give us a twelve-minute window. Couldn't widen it more than that, and that alone took me six months of hideous work.

"Your security's a marvel, and that's a fact. I'd never have made a crack in it without the men on the inside."

"That's little satisfaction at the moment."

"I suppose that's true. Still, I'm likely the only one live and kicking who could have widened that crack on you. So. Each team member has assigned goods to pluck. Every one of them must get it done and be out of the room within ten minutes. Gives them two to get back to the exit point. Anyone not there gets left behind."

He rose, set his glass aside. "I'll get my equipment and discs, so you can see how it's meant to be." He hesitated. "I should have known better than to tie myself up with the likes of Naples. I've no excuses for that mistake, and you've my word I'll do what I can to make up for it. Will you give me over to the cops then?"

Roarke met his eyes, held them. And saw all the miseries. "No."

Eve burst into the house, all but choking on her own rage.

She swung toward the stairs even as Summerset slid into the hall. "Where are they?" she demanded.

"Roarke is in his private office. Lieutenant – "

"Later. Goddamn it." She pounded up the stairs, streaked down the hall. She had a hand on her weapon when she coded herself into Roarke's private room.

He wasn't behind the console, but leaning back against it, his eyes tracking the data and diagrams on his wall screens. His unregistered equipment hummed softly.

"Where's Connelly?"

Roarke continued to study, to access. He'd nearly come to the conclusion they'd have managed to pull it off. Son of a bitch. "He isn't here."

"I need to find him, now. The bastard's part of this."

"Yes, I know."

His comment was so mild, she was two beats behind before it sank in. "You know? How long have you known?" She marched up to him, blocking his view of the screens. "What the hell kind of game are you playing here?"

"No game at all."

No, she saw that now. His voice might have been calm, but his eyes weren't. "When did you clue into him?"

"I suspected when we realized the auction items were the target. I told you there are only a few who could handle a job of this nature. He's one of them."

"And you didn't bother to tell me that."

"No, I didn't tell you because I had to be sure. Now I am."

"And you're sure because?"

"I asked him," Roarke said simply. "And he told me. I have his notes and job plans here. They might have done it," he added with a glimmer of admiration leaking through. "If everything had gone perfectly, if there'd been absolutely no mistakes, no unknowns, they might have done it."

"You asked him," Eve repeated. "Fine. Great. Where is he?"

"I don't know. I let him go."

"You – " Now she did choke. It wasn't just fury, but shock and outrage and not a little betrayal. "You just let him walk! He's a key player in my investigation, he's a fucking thief who was about to stab you in the back, and you let him go?"

"Yes. I have everything he knows about your investigation, about what was done and what's planned. It won't be much help to you regarding Yost. Mick didn't know Yost had been brought in."

"There's a lot of I-didn't-know going around. You had no right to let him go. No right to interfere in police business. And no goddamn sense to toss him back out on the street."

"Eve – "

"Goddamn it, Roarke, goddamn it. Two people are dead. Summerset might have been. I've just finished sweating Vincent Lane for two hours to get details, to get closer, and to scare him into keeping his mouth shut so the rest of the players aren't alerted. I had to get the PA to deal him down to a single charge and offer witness protection to get him to agree to fake a medical emergency. The asshole's in a posh room at the hospital, zoned out on drugs so he can't talk to anyone."

"That was clever of you. He certainly wouldn't have managed to maintain his role unless he was drugged. And since Liza is part of this, it's best he's out of her bed."

She lifted her hands, felt them clench, then whirled away before she could do something violent. "Yeah, real clever. And now you set Connelly loose. He'll spring to Naples, and they'll abort the job. Your reputation will be safe and sound. And I've lost another link to Yost."

"He won't go to Naples."

"Bullshit. He'll – "

"He won't," Roarke repeated. "If I believed that, or if I had any doubt he was out of the loop on Yost, I'd have done worse than turn him over to you. But I have none. I couldn't give him to you, Eve. I don't expect you to understand."

"Oh, that's real considerate of you. Let's hope you understand the next time we find a silver wire on a body that your skewed sense of loyalty cost someone their life."

He didn't speak, but his eyes, hot and blue, held hers for a long moment. In them she saw her lance had found its mark.

Oh yeah, she thought miserably, I got some great aim.

He turned back to the console. "I have all the data on the plans. I've made copies for you. Forewarned, my security will be able to handle it, but I assume you'll want to be there with your team. You'll have Naples and the rest within thirty-six hours."

And if someone died before then? he thought. If I've cost a friend's life to save a friend?

"If you have any questions," he began, then simply stopped. "I can't be other than what I am," he said quietly. "Whatever I've done to distance myself, I can't be other than what I am. Computer, copy all data on disc."

She waited while the computer completed the task, then took the discs from Roarke when he offered them.

"I hope to God he was worth it," she said, and left him alone.

She called her team first, requested they convene at her home office, then headed to Mick's room to toss it in hopes she'd find some clue where he'd gone.

She was ripping through the bureau when Summerset came in and froze in absolute horror.

"Lieutenant! That is a Chippendale, a valuable antique that must be treated with respect."

"A lot of things need to be treated with respect, and don't get it."

She dumped the empty drawer aside, and turned to drag the bedspread and sheets off the bed.

"Stop it! Stop it at once." He snagged the duvet, tugged. "This is antique Irish lace over silk."

"Look, ace, I'm in the mood to bash someone's face in, and yours is looking pretty good to me." She yanked, he yanked, and they snarled at each other over the tug-of-war.

She let go abruptly and had the satisfaction of watching him stumble back three steps before coming up hard against the wall.

"When did he leave? Connelly? What did he take with him? What was his transpo?"

Summerset merely sucked air through his nose.

"Look, you know what he did, what he planned to do. Roarke would have filled you in by now." You, she thought with some bitterness, but not me. "You want him to get away with it?"

"It's not my decision."

"Hell with that. They sent Yost after you."

"Mick would not have had a part in that arrangement."

She threw up her hands, kicked the bed hard enough to make Summerset leap forward to check for damage. "What is wrong with you people? Connelly is involved up to his teeth. You had no business, Roarke had no damn right, to let him walk out of this house."

"What choice did he have?" Satisfied the antique footboard had sustained no damage, he turned to study her. "Do you understand him so little, after all?"

"Does he understand me so little," she shot back. "After all."

Summerset laid the now-wrinkled duvet on the bed. He owed her something, he thought, for the morning. "You feel he betrayed you by standing for his friend."

"A friend doesn't plot to steal from a friend."

Summerset smiled. "Mick wouldn't have thought of it that way. Neither, at the bottom of it, would Roarke. You do. You're angry, and you have a right to your anger. But it will burn off. Roarke suffers, and that will fester. Is that what you want for him?"

He stepped out of the room.

Tired, frustrated, Eve sat on the bed. The cat padded in, leaped up. He turned three tight circles, kneaded the silk and lace duvet with some enthusiasm, then curled up and stared directly into her face…

"Don't you start on me. You slept with the guy, for God's sake. What does that make you?"

She put out an all-points on Michael Connelly, though she expected he would be well into the wind. Her only hope was that word didn't spread from Mick to Naples to Yost before she closed in.

But even if the heist was aborted, she believed Yost would stick. He'd contracted for Summerset, and he wasn't the type to leave a job unfinished. It would give her time.

And if she was lucky, very lucky, she could use Yost to hook Naples. Her case would not be closed in her mind until she had them both.

"We proceed on the assumption that the hotel will be the target," she told her team. "Everything is set for it. Even if Connelly has bolted, Naples can still implement. He has all the data, and has gone to considerable expense. He'll want to make good on his investment."

"If Connelly goes to him," Feeney put in, "they may still try for it, but they'll shift strategy. They may hit sooner, or wait, come at it from another angle."

"Agreed. We put our counter-plan into place expecting adjustments, and expecting them to hit at any time."

"We'll need Roarke and his top security team," McNab commented.

"I'm aware of that. Feeney, would you discuss that level with Roarke?" She gestured to the adjoining door.

He got up, knocked, and passed through.

"Study the Connelly data until you know it backwards," Eve ordered, then went into the kitchen for coffee, and a moment alone.

Peabody slid her eyes toward McNab, away, then back again. She was getting damn sick of the silent treatment. She hadn't done anything. He was the one who had jumped right on some redhead. Oh yeah, she'd gotten the word on that minor orgy through the grapevine. Little prick.

"Have a good time on your date?"

"Oh yeah. It rocked."

"You bite."

"Is that an invitation?

She sniffed. "I don't go around with jerks who bounce on bimbos."

"I don't go around with jerkettes who bounce on LCs," he tossed back.

"At least an LC knows how to treat a woman."

"Sure, if you pay him enough." He crossed his legs, examined the toes of his new Airstream boots. "What's the matter, Peabody, Charles's calendar too full? You sound like a woman who isn't getting any."

"Screw you."

"Any time, Peabody. You can even have it for free."

She leaped up. So did he. "I wouldn't let you touch me again if you paid me."

"Fine. I don't have time on some stiff-assed, cornbread uniform."

"Break it up," Eve ordered. "Now!" If she wasn't mistaken, her aide was on the verge of tears. And McNab didn't look far behind. They were both giving her a bitch of a headache. "Private business on your own time, damn it. The two of you will work together through this, around this, or under this, I don't give a damn how you manage it. But when you're on my watch, you stand up and do the job. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." It came from both of them, at a mumble, and would have to satisfy.

"Peabody, check on Lane at the hospital, and see that the tag on Liza is still in place. I want an update on both. McNab, run a full analysis of Connelly's data. I want all possible adjustment scenarios on my desk within two hours."

"Sir, Roarke – "

"Did I give you an order, Detective, or ask for a discussion?"

"An order, Lieutenant."

"Then follow it." She marched to Roarke's door, pushed it open. Both he and Feeney were behind the console. Both looked up.

"Feeney, I've started McNab on an analysis. Will you see he gets started?"

"No problem."

She waited until the door shut after him. "I'm tired," she said, "I have a headache, and I'm pissed off at you."

"Well, that should about cover it."

"No, it doesn't. I don't have the time or the energy to waste having a sniping match with you like the one I just had the misfortune to overhear between Peabody and McNab. You were wrong to let Connelly go. But that's from where I stand. From where you stand, you did what you had to. We can't come together on that, but we need each other to finish this job. When it's finished, we'll have to deal with the fact that we're standing on opposite sides of a line. Until then, it's tabled."

She turned for the door, gave it a shove, and found it locked. "Unlock this door. Don't mess with me now."

"I'd prefer you shouted and got this done, but since it's not the anger so much that's driving you, you won't. I'll need a few moments of your time."

"I've done all the personal business I'm going to do right now."

"I hurt you. You see it as me choosing him over you. It wasn't."

"You're wrong." She turned around now, faced him across the room. "He hurt you, and you won't let me stand for you. You took it out of my hands and gave me no way to make it right."

"You'd have put him in a cage. Darling Eve, that wouldn't have made it right for me. You know some of what I was, and where I came from. But not all."

No, not all. He wasn't sure he himself knew or understood the all. But he could give her another part of it. "Your past comes to you in nightmares that try to eat you up from the inside. Mine, it lives in me. In corners of me. Do you know how many years it was before I ever went back to Ireland after I'd left? I don't. And it was some time after that before I ever stepped on a Dublin street. It wasn't until you went back with me to bury my friend that I went again to that part of Dublin that birthed me."

He looked down at his hands. "I used these, and my brain, and whatever else I could find to claw and steal and cheat my way out of that. And I left behind those who'd come through it all with me just as much as I left behind the dead bastard who'd made my life a misery. He damaged me, Eve, and might have made me what he was."

"No." She came forward then.

"Oh yes. He could have. Without the friends I made, and those pockets of escape I had with them, he would have. I was able to go my own way because there were those I could count on in the worst of times. When I took you with me to Dublin last year so I could wake and bury Jenny, I realized I'd never paid that back. I couldn't have turned him over, Eve, not even to you, and lived with it."

She hissed out a breath, swore. "I know it. I'm not calling off the all-points on him."

"I wouldn't expect it. Neither would he. I was to give you his apologies for the trouble he's caused, and his not saying his good-byes in person."

"Oh, please," she replied.

"He left something for you." He pulled a small vial out of his pocket, handed it to her.

"Dirt?"

"Soil, he claimed, dug from the Hill of Tara. That place of Irish kings long dead. Knowing Mick, it likely came out of our own gardens, but it's the thought, after all. It's for luck, he said, as you were the most regal of cops he'd ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Regal, my ass."

"Well, as I said, it's the thought."

She jammed the vial in her pocket. "This regal cop hopes to have the pleasure of meeting him again, very soon. But meanwhile, we need our expert consultant, civilian, on this data analysis. I need to focus on Yost, and leave you compu-droids to the tech work."

"Absolutely, Lieutenant." He came around the console, took her hand. "One other thing I think you'll be in the mood for."

"I don't have time for sex."

"There's always time for sex, but that wasn't what I meant. Just now. Yost, as Roles, holds the deed to beachfront property, and the house just completed on it in the Tropics Sector of Olympus."

"Son of a bitch."

"If you don't get him here, you'll get him there. He's contracted one of our own site decorators to outfit the place, and has a consult set four days from now. He's reserved a suite at the main casino hotel in three days' time. I've a line on private craft booked into the transpo station there. There's only one scheduled in from New York. I've transferred all the information to your home unit."

"I'm on it."

They separated into two teams, with McNab working with Roarke in his office on the security analysis. Eve kept Peabody with her as she outlined the best strategy for moving in on Yost. Feeney moved between the teams.

"The timing makes it clear Yost is waiting to go off planet until after the heist. Feeney, ask Roarke if Yost would be entitled to a share of the take over and above the assassin's fee, since one hooked to the other."

If he found anything odd about her consulting Roarke on that sort of criminal ethics, he didn't mention it.

"Says Yost could be entitled to a bonus based on the take, but that would be transferred to him after the merchandise was transported and fenced."

"Okay, so why's he hanging? Probably wants to be certain it goes off smooth, and he's not required for any more work. And there's still Summerset on his slate. He'll be tuned to the media for news of the theft. I need to bring in Nadine."

They worked straight through until her team threatened to revolt without proper nourishment. Eve ate half a sandwich while working at her computer. She refused to budge until she'd read everything through one last time.

"Lieutenant, your eyes are going to bleed. Computer, save and hold data." Then Roarke swung her chair around before she could countermand his order. "It's after eight. You're exhausted, and the mind will only hold so much at a go. Send your team home and take a break."

"They can go. There are just a few more things I want to look over. Is Nadine still here?"

"No, she had to be on-air. You covered it with her, and she'll plant your story. You've covered everything twice over and more."

"Maybe. Where is everybody?"

"McNab's down in the kitchen talking Summerset out of a second dessert before he heads to the hotel. Peabody's taking a swim at my suggestion to clear her head, and Feeney's in my office working because his head's very nearly as hard as your own. There's nothing more you can do tonight."

"If there's not it's because I've overlooked it. I want to get some men up to Olympus, into the transpo station in case Yost gets by us here. I'll let Agent Stowe decide which end she wants to take when I fill her in."

"Which won't be until tomorrow, as you don't want her filled in too soon. Feeney," he called out and began to knead his wife's knotted shoulders. "Go home."

"In a minute. Dallas, we ought to alert Space Traffic Control in case Yost detours on his way to Olympus."

"We alert STC, it's one more tongue to wag," she called back. "You got any secure contacts with them?"

"I'll work on it. I used to have this…" He trailed off as he stepped in and saw Roarke bent over Eve, rubbing her shoulders. "Ah, well, you know, I think I'll head out now. I can give Peabody a lift."

"She's in the pool," Roarke told him, not so gently holding his wife down when she tried to rise.

"Yeah." Feeney's face brightened. "Wouldn't mind a quick dip myself."

"Go right ahead. You're going to eat," Roarke said to Eve.

"I did."

"A half-sandwich isn't sufficient." He glanced over as he heard voices. "Fine. We have company. You can have some soup while Mavis entertains you."

"I don't have time for – " She broke off, sighed. Mavis was already whirling into the room on six-inch platform slides that exploded with colored lights at every bouncing step.

"Hey, Dallas, hey, Roarke. Just ran into Feeney, and he said you were wrapped for the day."

"Not really, I still have some stuff. Why don't you play with Roarke while I finish up?" Her pleasure at the inspiration fractured when another woman, this one with twelve-inch coils shooting out of her head in screaming red, strolled in.

"Trina," Eve managed, and her stomach clutched with dread.

"We came by to give you the scoop and poop up close and personal," Mavis announced. "Trina got the line on the products and all, like you asked me. Right, Trina?"

"Right, and right down the line."

"That's great." It's going to be okay, Eve thought. It's just business. "What have you got?"

"Tell her, Trina. Oh, wine! Roarke, you are total." She plunked her pretty butt in its crotch-shot skirt on Eve's desk and beamed at him as he handed around glasses of wine.

"Okay," Trina began. "You got your Youth supercover foundation, burnt honey tone, your mocha, same product. You can get them at any high-end department store or salon. Then you got your unisex powder, in both loose and compact. He went for Deloren there – that's mostly sold in salons and spa centers, 'cause it's too pricey for the regulars."

"How many spots in New York?"

"Oh, two, three dozen easy. He's got fine taste in enhancements. Cheek color's are Deloren, Youth and a nice rose quartz from Salina. The eye stuff – "

"Trina, I appreciate all this, but can you fine it down to whichever products you tagged that have limited distribution? Any stuff in there only sold wholesale maybe?"

"I'm getting to it." Trina curled her lips, currently painted vampire black. "Here's a guy who likes to experiment with enhancements, and isn't afraid to pay top dollar. Gotta admire that. From the looks of the video, he took the basics, and a few fancies. He keeps them all organized, so I could deduce…"

She held on to that word a moment, savoring it. "I could deduce he favors Youth and Natural Bliss. NB's hypo-allergenic, all natural, and costs two left arms. Can't buy it over-the-counter. Can't get it unless you're a licensed consultant. Salon use only, not for resale. So this guy either has a license or a source 'cause he's got some of those salon-use-onlys in his drawer."

As did she, Trina thought smugly. "Happens I get it from Carnegy Enhancement Supplies on Second Avenue when I've got a client who can pay the fee."

She paused, sipped. "And it happens I took the trouble to call my pal there and ask her, on the quiet, about her customers for the products your guy had, or I figured were missing from the drawer. She said it was funny I should ask, 'cause she just got in an order for those exact products from one of her regulars. A big bald guy who comes in once or twice a year and picks up a supply. Pays in cash. Says he's got a salon in south Jersey."

Eve got slowly to her feet. "Did he pick up the order?"

"Nope. Coming in for it tomorrow, before noon. Told her to have it all put together as he was pressed for time. Ordered twice his usual, too."

"Roarke, get this woman some more wine."

"We did good?" Mavis asked, bouncing.

"You did fantastic. Trina, I need the name of your pal. I need her cooperation."

"Fine by me. But I got a question. How come you insult me?"

"Insult you? I was about to kiss you."

"How come you don't take care of my work? Look at you." Trina aimed a finger, tipped by a one-inch sapphire nail. "You look like something dragged under a maxibus. Skin's all tired, circles under your eyes."

"I've been working."

"What's that got to do with it? You can't take five minutes twice a day to show some respect for my work? When's the last time you used that exfoliant I gave you, or the pump lotion, or the stress repair?"

"Ah…"

"Bet you haven't had time to rub on the breast cream either." She turned on Roarke. "Some reason you can't slap some on your hands before you feel her up?"

"I do try," he said, throwing Eve to the wolves without a qualm. "She's a difficult woman."

"Let me see your feet," Trina demanded, rounding the desk.

Eve Dallas, who had faced death and spit in its eye, went into full retreat. "No. My feet are fine."

"Haven't used the pedia-care kit, have you?" Then Trina's eyes, with their rainbow lids and gold lashes, widened in shock. "Did you cut your hair?"

"No." Eve grabbed it with a protective hand, nearly stumbled over the chair.

"Don't you lie to me, girlfriend. You took the scissors to it, didn't you?"

"No. Not exactly. Hardly at all. I had to do it. It was getting in my eyes. I barely touched it. Damn it." She decided it was time to plant her feet. "It's my hair."

"It is not your hair, not once I've had my hands in it. Do I come down to your police station and strut around with a badge on my tit, or go out on the streets and hunt up bad guys so I can kick their ass? No! And this is what you do not do. You do not, ever in this lifetime or the next, mess with my work."

Trina heaved a breath. "Now, I'm going down and getting my kit so I can deal with the mess you've made of yourself."

"That's nice, really, but I don't have time for – " Eve winced as Trina fisted her hands on her hips. "That would be great. Thanks."

When Trina strode out, Eve stepped up to Mavis, gave her a hard look, and took her wine. She downed it, then scowled at her friend and her husband. "The first one who smirks eats this glass."