The In Death Collection Books 6-10 - J. D. Robb [628]
She checked her wrist unit, figured angles. “McNab, continue search and scan. If you turn up anything else interesting, relay it to me or Feeney. I’ll be at Central. Feeney? Reserve us an interview room, first available.”
“You hauling him in?” Feeney asked.
“Yeah. Let’s see how he does on my stage. Peabody, have Dispatch send some uniforms to Kenneth Stiles’s address. I want him to have a ride in a black and white.”
She started out while Peabody dug for her communicator.
“Hey, Peabody, just a minute.”
She hesitated, glanced over her shoulder. “I’m busy, McNab.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed her hand, gave her a tug.
“Cut it out.” But her own hand reached back and gave his butt a quick squeeze. “I’ve got real cop work to do.”
“You uniforms only wish you could dance the cop dance like us EDDs. Listen, you want to go out tonight?”
Being pressed against him always managed to get her lust quotient hopping. “I guess I could come by after shift.”
He nearly let it go at that as an image of her out of that uniform swirled into his mind. Still, Roarke hadn’t said they couldn’t have sex after the date. “No, I was thinking we could go out.”
“It’s too cold to have sex outdoors.”
He opened his mouth, closed it again as the image in his mind switched to rolling naked with Peabody in the shadows of Central Park. If they didn’t get mugged, knifed, or murdered, it would be incredible.
“Is sex all you think about? Not that I’m against it, but how about we go to the Nexus Club, catch some music. I’ll pick you up at eight.”
“Pick me up? You’ll pick me up?”
“That’ll give you time to change.” It was interesting, he thought, seeing her look at him as if he’d grown a third ear in the center of his forehead.
“Peabody! Move your ass!”
“You better go.” He smiled as Eve’s irritated voice boomed up the stairs. “I’ll catch you later.”
And because he was feeling lucky, he crushed his mouth down on hers, sucking until the kiss broke with a wet, sexy sound.
Peabody stumbled back and staggered out the door.
chapter thirteen
Eve grabbed a cup of coffee and was forced to settle for an energy bar as the candy thief had hit her again. The first chance she got, she was setting a trap for the sneaky bastard. But at the moment, she had other priorities.
She caught the glide to the interview area and picked up Feeney on the way.
“This guy likes to role play,” Eve began. “I don’t want to give him the chance to latch onto a character type. Let’s mess with his rhythm.”
“I want to be bad cop this time.”
“Feeney, you’re—” She stopped, sniffed the air. “What’s that smell?”
Feeney hunched his shoulder. “I don’t smell anything. I’m taking bad cop.” He said it so decisively, Eve rolled her eyes, then shrugged.
“Okay, fine. I’ll start off being pleasant and reasonable, then we’ll jam him. If he’s lawyered . . .” She sniffed again, scenting the air like a bloodhound as other cops and Central personnel streamed by. “It smells, I don’t know, green,” she decided. “Like a salad.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let’s keep focused, okay? A guy whips hell out of somebody like this one did, he’s got a temper. Let’s see if we can heat it up.”
“Fine.” As they stepped off the glide, she leaned in, sniffed at Feeney. “Hey, it’s you.”
“Shut up, Dallas.”
She grinned now, as the back of the neck she’d just sniffed turned cherry red. “How come you smell like a fancy green salad, Feeney?”
“Quiet down, will you? Christ.” He darted looks right and left until he was sure no one was close enough to hear. Then he lowered his voice to a mutter, just in case. “Look, my wife gave me this stuff for our anniversary.”
“You’re supposed to put salad dressing on lettuce and stuff, Feeney.”
“It’s not salad dressing, it’s cologne.”
“You smell good enough to eat.”
His mouth found a spot between a snarl and a sneer. “Yeah, that’s what she says. Keep it down, will you? I couldn’t get