The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [445]
Bricks rained. A smoldering chunk smashed into the ground inches from her face as she rolled under the car. Her body bumped solidly into Peabody’s.
“You hurt?”
“No. Jesus, Dallas.”
A wave of heat swarmed over them, brutally intense. The air was screaming. Debris flew overhead, battering the car like hot, furious fists. This is what the end of the world would feel like, Eve thought as she fought to catch her breath. Hot and filthy and full of noise.
Above them, the car rocked, bucked, shuddered. Then there was no sound but the ringing in her ears and Peabody’s ragged pants. No movement but the wild hammering of her own heart.
She lay there another moment, assuring herself she was still alive, that all her parts were intact. There was a burning sensation where she’d met the concrete. Her fingers came away wet with blood as she probed the area. That disgusted her enough to have her bellying out from under the car.
“Goddamn it, goddamn it! Just look at my ride.”
The car was dents and scorch marks, the windshield a fancy web of cracks. The roof carried a fist-sized hole.
Peabody crawled to her feet, coughed at the smoke that was stinking the air. “You don’t look so good yourself, sir.”
“It’s just a scratch,” Eve muttered and wiped her bloody fingers on her ruined trousers.
“No, I meant as a whole.”
Scowling, Eve glanced over, then narrowed her eyes. Peabody’s face was smeared with black, making the whites of her eyes stand out like moons. She’d lost her uniform cap and her hair was standing wildly on end.
Eve rubbed her fingers over her own face, studied the now blackened tips, and swore. “Shit. That caps it. Call this in. Get some units out here for crowd control. We’re going to have a hell of a crowd once people in this area crawl out from under their beds. And get—”
At the sound of a car, she whirled, one hand on the butt of her weapon. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed when she recognized the vehicle that pulled in behind hers.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded when Roarke got out of the car.
“I could ask the same. Your leg’s bleeding, Lieutenant.”
“Not much.” She rubbed a hand under her nose. “I’ve got myself a crime scene here, Roarke, and a hazardous area. Go away.”
He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and, crouching down, examined the cut before tying the cloth over the wound. “You’ll need that tended. It’s full of grit.” Rising, he stroked a hand over her hair. “Interesting do, and somehow you.”
She caught Peabody’s smirk out of the corner of her eye but decided to let it pass. “I don’t have time for you, Roarke. I’m working.”
“Yes, I can see that. But I think you’ll want to make time.” His eyes were cold and flat as he scanned the smoldering rubble. “This used to be my building.”
“Oh hell.” Eve shoved her hands into her pockets, paced away, back, away again. “Hell,” she repeated and glared at him.
“I knew you’d be delighted.” He took a disc pouch out of his pocket, offered it to her. He’d already copied the disc and secured it. “I received that this morning. It’s a text message from a group calling themselves Cassandra. Basically, it calls me a capitalist opportunist—which of course is absolutely true—and states that I’ve been chosen in their first demonstration. There’s some tired and tedious political jargon thrown in. The redistribution of wealth, the exploitation of the poor by the rich. Nothing terribly original.”
His words might have been casual, but the tone was much too controlled. And she knew him. Beneath those cool eyes, violence was bubbling.
She handled it the only way she knew how, with professional dispatch. “I’m going to need you to come in so I can take a detailed statement. I’ll have to take this as evidence.”
She broke off as the violence in his eyes swam to the surface. No one, she thought fleetingly, no one could look more dangerous than Roarke in an icy temper.
Abruptly, he swung away from her to stride through the smoking bricks.
“Damn it.” Impatient, she scooped a hand through her disordered hair