“As I’ve seen before. What does Abernathy say?”
“He was surprised Cobbe rented a vehicle. Not that he hasn’t before, but he didn’t expect that would pan out here. Good public transpo, he doesn’t know the city. He figures the APB is a one in a million.”
Roarke nodded. “Because he has a garage, either where he’s holing up, or he’s rented a space inside. You don’t park that sort of car on the street, and you’d be lucky to find parking, regularly, convenient to where you’re staying.”
“Agreed, but he’s going to drive it sometime. It’s a tool when he manages, in his mind, to grab you up.”
Those eyes, those wild Irish eyes, latched onto hers. “Or you.”
“Or me. And it’s something he needs if he has to rabbit fast. He’s not stupid, so he’s mapped out how to get out of the city if and when he needs to.”
“We’re same page again. What time do we start the hunt?”
“We’re meeting at Central at oh-one hundred. He might troll for another woman, but I figure he’s smart enough to lay low there tonight.”
“Then I say it’s coffee and pie while we finish up the work here.”
He took his into his office.
Alone in hers, Eve wandered into her kitchen without giving the sulking cat a glance.
She came out with a handful of cat treats and walked back to her command center. In under thirty seconds as she scanned the paperwork from Santiago, Galahad leaped his pudge onto the counter. Still scanning, still holding the treats in her hand, she waited him out.
He padded over, gave her a butt on the shoulder with his head.
“You want something?”
He butted her again, added a rub.
“You know, there are going to be times on the job when I encounter another cat. If you recall, I was on the job when I found you.”
She turned to him, shaking the treats in her hand.
“You’re the one I brought home.”
She set the treats on the counter. Instead of pouncing on them as she expected, he rubbed against her again.
Maybe with love, she thought, maybe to overlay the other cat scent. Probably both.
She gave him one long stroke, a scratch between the ears. “Plus, she meant nothing to me.”
Apparently satisfied, Galahad pounced on the treats.
Equally satisfied all 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!”
He’d needed to see her, like this, hot and helpless with it. Writhing with it, flying with it.