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Peabody rolled her eyes and double-timed it to catch up with Eve.

“Take the jet, Lieutenant,” Roarke called after her.

She glanced over her shoulder, saw him, tall, gorgeous, in the center of the wide doorway. She wished she’d had the time and the privacy to stride back and give those marvelous lips one quick little bite. “Maybe.” She shrugged and made the turn for the elevator.

She took the jet—as much to keep Peabody from pouting as to save time. She’d been right. It was brutally cold in Maine. Naturally, she’d forgotten her gloves, so she stuffed her hands in her pockets as she stepped off the plane and into the bitter wind.

An airport official in cold-weather coveralls hustled over, handed her a vehicle coder.

“What’s this?”

“Your transportation, Lieutenant Dallas. Your vehicle is in the green parking area, level two, slot five.”

“Roarke,” she muttered and jammed the code into her pocket along with her frozen fingers.

“I’ll show you the way.”

“Yeah, do that.”

They moved across the tarmac and into the warmth of the terminal. The private transportation sector was quiet, almost reverently so, as opposed to the constant noise, bumping bodies and food and gift hawkers that crowded the public areas.

They rode the elevator down to green, where Eve was shown a sleek, black air-and-road number that made the all-terrains the illegals detectives drove look like kiddie cars.

“If you’d prefer another make or model, you’re authorized for any available unit,” she was told.

“No. Fine. Thanks.” She waited until he’d walked away before she seethed. “He’s got to stop doing this.”

Peabody ran a loving hand over the glistening fender. “Why?”

“Because,” was the best Eve could come up with, and she uncoded the door. “Map out directions to Monica Rowan’s address.”

Peabody settled in, rubbed her hands together as she scanned the cockpit. “Air or road?”

Eve spared her a steely look. “Road, Peabody.”

“Air or road, I bet this baby moves.” She leaned forward to study the on-board computer system. “Oh wow, she is loaded.”

“When you finish being sixteen, Officer, map out the damn route.”

“You never stop being sixteen,” Peabody murmured, but followed orders.

The in-dash monitor responded immediately with a detailed map of the best route.

Would you like audio prompts during this trip? They were asked in the computer’s warm, silky baritone.

“I think we can handle it, ace.” Eve cruised toward the exit.

As you wish, Lieutenant Dallas. This trip comprises ten point three miles. Your estimated time to complete at this time of day on this day of the week, at the posted speed limits, is twelve minutes, eight seconds.

“Oh, we can beat that.” Peabody shot Eve a quick grin. “Right, Lieutenant?”

“We’re not here to beat anything.” She drove decorously through the parking garage, into and around airport traffic, and through the gates.

Then there was a stretch of highway, long, wide, open.

Hell, she was human. She punched it.

“Oh man! I want one of these.” Peabody grinned as the scenery blurred and flew by. “How much do you think this honey goes for?”

This model retails for one hundred and sixty-two thousand dollars, excluding tax, fees, and licenses.

“Holy shit.”

“Still feeling sixteen, Peabody?” With a quick laugh, Eve swung onto their exit.

“Yeah, and I want a raise in my allowance.”

They hit the commuter high-rises, strip malls, and hotel complexes that edged the suburbs. Traffic thickened on the road and overhead, but remained well-mannered and well-spaced.

That made Eve immediately miss New York with its nasty streets, rude vendors, and snarling pedestrians.

“How do people live in places like this?” she asked Peabody. “It’s like somebody cut it all out of a travel disc, took a few thousand copies, and pasted it down outside of every goddamn city in the country. They’re all the same.”

“Some people like all the same. It’s comforting. We took a trip to Maine when I was a kid. Mount Desert Island, the national park?”

Eve shuddered. “National parks are full of trees and hikers and weird little bugs.”

“Yeah, no bugs in New