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“Penthouse B, the other tower.”
“Let’s pay her a visit. She and Draco had an illegals history in common,” Eve began as she gathered her field kit and started out. “She may know his sources. It could all come down to a bad drug deal.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Okay, I don’t think so either, but the majority of cop work is eliminating.” She locked the door, started to reach for a police seal in her kit.
“Must you do that?” He eyed the seal with dislike. “It’s very off-putting to the other guests.”
“Yes, I must. Besides, it’ll give them a secret thrill. Oooh, look, George, that’s where the dead actor lived. Get the vid cam.”
“Your attitude toward society at large is sadly cynical.”
“And accurate.” She stepped into the elevator ahead of him, waiting for the doors to close. Then pounced. “Just give me a quick—God—” Desperate for release, she rubbed herself against him, bit his lip, moaning as her hands squeezed hard on his butt.
“Whew.” On a long breath, she pushed him away, circled her shoulders. “That’s better.”
“For you maybe.” He made a grab for her, but she slapped a hand on his chest.
“No games in public elevators. Don’t you know that’s a violation of city code? Tower A, penthouse level,” she ordered, and the car slid seamlessly into motion.
“You’ll definitely have to pay for that.”
She leaned back against the wall as the elevator started its horizontal ride. “Please, you’re scaring me.”
He only smiled and slipped his hands into his pocket. Toyed idly with the rubber cone he’d palmed out of the drawer. “Be afraid,” he murmured, and made her laugh as the car came to a stop.
“I had to clear my head before talking to a witness, didn’t I?”
“Mmm-hmmm.”
“Listen, you know Mansfield fairly well. I’d like your observations when this is done.”
“Ah, there I am. Useful again.”
She stopped, turned, and laid a hand on his cheek. Love for him reared up and bit her at the oddest times. “You do come in handy.” When he turned his head and brushed his lips over her palm, she felt the thrill of it right down to her toes. “No mushy stuff,” she ordered and strode to Areena’s door.
She pressed the buzzer, waited.
Areena, dressed in a white lounging robe, opened the door. She looked flushed, obviously surprised, and not altogether pleased. “Lieutenant Dallas. Roarke. I…I wasn’t expecting—” Then those limpid eyes went wide, went bright. “Is there news? Have you caught whoever—”
“No. I’m sorry to disturb you, but I have a few questions.”
“Oh. I thought, I hoped, it might all be over. Well.” She lifted a hand, pressed pink-tipped fingers under her eye as if to soothe an ache. Indeed, there were faint bruises of fatigue under it. “I’m afraid this isn’t really a good time. Is this absolutely necessary?”
“I’m sorry it’s inconvenient, but it won’t take long.”
“Of course. This is awkward. You see, I’m not alone. I…” In surrender, Areena let her hand fall, stepped back. “Please, come in.”
Eve stepped inside. The penthouse was very like its opposite in setup, in size. The furnishings were softer, more female somehow, and the colors a symphony of blues and creams.
And seated on one of the trio of sofas, looking sleek and gorgeous in black, was Charles Monroe.
Terrific, Eve thought, and immediately wanted to kick his expensive balls into his throat.
He grinned, a quick snap of pleasure, then seeing the chill in her eyes, the look shifted into lazy amusement as he got languorously to his feet. “Lieutenant. Always a delight to see you.”
“Charles. Night work still keeping you busy?”
