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“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.”
“Bull
shit. 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.”
