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“The boar or the river,” Roarke said. “Neither choice is particularly pleasant, but you have to make one. Sometimes under pressure.”
“That’s good.” Eve pointed at him. “That’s pretty good. On one hand you’ve got the mutant pig with the big, sharp teeth who wants to chew your leg off. On the other, the river with jagged rocks where you may or may not bash yourself into bloody pieces.”
“Most people jump.”
“Because the threat from the mutant pig is more immediate. Better to take your chances with the water and rocks. But better altogether to kill the mutant pig, then stroll away on dry land.”
“I’m beginning to wish I’d suggested pork instead of steak.”
When she laughed, he topped off her wine.
“Easy on that,” she said. “I’m going to switch to coffee. I have to dig into Steinburger and Valerie. If I’m right and they’re in this, there’s something to be found. If a PI can find it, I sure as hell can.”
“I have every faith, and so have faith you can handle a glass and a half of very nice Cabernet. Tell me why you’ve zeroed in on Steinburger. It’s not just because he wasn’t truthful.”
“If you lie to a cop, you’ve got a reason. Often the reason’s stupid, but it’s there. More, he went on the offensive in the first interview.”
“And offense is defense.”
“There you go. Add one more. This has been about power and control. Hers against the freaking world from what I can tell. Who has the most power and control on this project—in the industry—among the players we’ve got?”
“The one with the money. It’s nearly always the case.”
“Yeah, being a rich bastard, you’d know.”
“Naturally.”
“Steinburger’s the one with the money. He owns the production company, and has the longest, shiniest rep. He’s labeled one of the most powerful men in Hollywood.”
“You’ve been reading the trades.”
“Know your turf,” Eve said. “He likes the spotlight, does a lot of publicity, pumps on the hype. And he’s a liar, he’s defensive, he’s the hand on the money wheel. He’s also got a young, attractive liar at his disposal in Valerie. It’s enough for me to choose that direction.” She smiled again. “Even if I fall into a bog.”
17
ROARKE LINGERED OVER HIS WINE WHILE EVE updated her board.
She seemed relaxed in the work, and despite the manner of her waking that morning more rested than she’d been since their return from Dallas.
Her wounds had healed. He thought—hoped—the wounds that didn’t show had begun their healing as well.
“I can hear you worrying from over here,” she told him.
“Actually I was just enjoying the view of my wife, and thinking she looks well.”
“It’s the first solid workout I’ve put in since … awhile. I needed it.” She continued her update. “I talked with Mira a little.”
“Did you?”
“She gave me some things to think about, and I will. I’m dealing, Roarke.”
He got up, walked behind her, wrapped his arms around her. “So am I.” He kissed the top of her head, then stepped back. “If I didn’t think you were dealing, I would’ve let you beat me in the game.”
“Like hell.”
He laughed, hugged her again, harder. “You’re right. But that just shows I’d never pander. I have too much respect for you.”
“And the shit keeps rising. You have too much ego to take a dive.”
