"Mmm, violence. You know how that arouses me."
She managed a short scream and yanked at her own hair.
"Darling Eve, why don't you let some of my mechanics deal with it? Or better yet, take whatever suits your needs out of the garage."
"Because that's like giving up. Those bastards in Maintenance aren't going to beat me." She huffed out a breath. "Anyway. Mavis and Trina are coming over. Probably Leonardo, too. They're spending the night."
"Are we having a pajama party? Will there be pillow fights?"
"You're just a laugh a minute. You want an update or do you want to fantasize about scantily clad women bashing each other with pillows?"
His grin was quick and wicked. "Guess."
She dropped into a chair and filled him in.
He picked up the cat as she spoke, sat stroking Galahad, watching her. He knew she was doing more than bringing him up to speed. She was refining, checking for holes, firming up the operation as she talked it through. They both knew no matter how meticulously planned the operation, it only took one variable to upset the balance.
"Some men," he said when she'd finished, "lesser men, might object to having their wife picnic in the park with another man."
"I'll bring you back some potato salad."
"That's my girl. You said Feeney will pick his man inside the surveillance vehicle. I believe he could be persuaded to select an expert consultant, civilian."
The circle her mind was taking came to an abrupt halt, then backtracked. "This is an NYPSD op, and there's no need for you to be there. You've got your own work."
"I do, yes, but I so enjoy watching you do yours." He gave the cat's ears a scratch with those long, clever fingers that had Galahad purring in pleasure. "Why don't we let Feeney decide?"
"No bribery."
His eyebrows shot up in amazement. "Really, Lieutenant, you wound me. If I were easily offended, I might not tell you I've separated, cross-filed, and indexed your data."
"Yeah? You're pretty handy to have around. Let's have a look." She got up to walk around to his side of the console. He tapped a single key, then setting the cat down, tugged her onto his lap.
"No funny stuff," she ordered.
"Who's laughing?" He nipped her earlobe. "You see on-screen three of those project personnel with male children who would now be between the ages of twenty and thirty-five. That gives you twenty-eight hits. Adding male siblings and grandchildren, secondary dependents in that same age bracket garners another fifteen."
"So that's, what, forty-three possibles. That's workable."
"However…" He kissed the nape of her neck. "Refining and recalculating using those personnel who were reprimanded, cited, terminated or named in civil suits, we decrease those possibles to eighteen. I assumed you'd want to start with them. Screen four."
"Keep this up, the chief's going to offer you a permanent position on the force."
"Now you're trying to scare me, but I'm too strong for that."
"Knock out the over-thirties. I'm betting he's younger than that."
He nuzzled her neck and did it manually. "Down to eight."
"Yeah. We start with them. Computer, run background check, all data, on individuals listed on screen four."
Working…
"It'll take a minute," Roarke told her and worked his way from neck to jaw.
"You're not authorized to attempt to seduce the primary investigator at this time."
"I've vast experience in breaking the law." He found her mouth, sank in.
"Wow. They always look sohot"
Mavis Freestone stood in the doorway in four-inch platform boots that rode up to her crotch in shiny, eye-watering pink. Her hair, tinted to match, seemed to burst out of her head in an explosive topknot. With it, she wore a skimmer in dizzying swirls of pink and blue that fluttered down to meet the top of the boots.
She beamed smiles set off by sparkling face studs fixed to the corners of her mouth.
Beside her Trina, her own hair in a foot-high ebony mountain, snorted. "If this is part of the fringe bennies on cop work, I want a badge."
Eve's fingers dug reflexively into Roarke's arm. "Don't leave me," she whispered. "Whatever you do, don't leave me."
"Be strong. Good evening, ladies."
"Leonardo's bopping over later. He had stuff. Summerset said to come right up." Mavis danced into the room. "We gave thumbs-up to snacks. We've got all kinds of goodies to try out on you, Dallas. This is so ultra mag."
Eve's stomach turned. "Whoopee."
"Where do you want me to set up?" Trina asked and was already studying Eve in a way that made the kick-ass cop want to whimper like a baby.
"In my office. This is an official consult,not a personal treatment."
"Whatever." Trina blew an enormous purple bubble, snapped the gum back. "Show me what you want to look like, and I'll make it happen."
In her office, Eve put Stefanie Finch's official ID photo on-screen and managed not to yelp when Trina took her face in her hands. Hands with inch-long sapphire nails.
"Mm-hmm. You know, lip dye isn't a crime in this state. You ought to try it."
"I've been kind of busy."
"You're always kind of busy. You're not using the eye gel I gave you. You can't find a minute twice a day for eye gel? You want bags and wrinkles? You got the finest piece of man-candy on and off planet, and you want him looking at your face with bags and wrinkles? What are you going to do when he dumps you for a woman who takes time to maintain her face?"
"Kill him."
That made Trina laugh and sent the little sapphire she had centered on her left eyeteeth winking. "Easier to use the gel. I need a photo of you, put it split screen with the image you want. I need to run some morph programs before we start playing with your face."
"Sure." Grabbing the reprieve, Eve went to her computer.
"Cocktail meatballs! Frigid!" Mavis snagged one from the tray Summerset carried in. "Summerset, you're the summit."
His face transformed. It always surprised Eve that he could smile and his face not crack to pieces. "Enjoy. If you'd like anything else, just let me know. And the AutoChef has been fully restocked."
"You ought to stay and watch." Mavis speared a second meatball. "We're going to make Dallas into someone else."
"That," Summerset said with his smile going thin and sour as a lemon slice when he glanced toward Eve, "is the answer to a prayer. And while tempting, I'll leave you to your work."
"He's such a kidder," Mavis said when he walked out.
"Oh yeah, he really cracks me up. There's your image," Eve told Trina. "I've got to check some data in the other room. Just let me know when you're ready for me."
She went back into Roarke and was met with a cup of coffee. "Though I imagine you could use a stiff drink, I assumed you'd opt for coffee."
"Thanks. She's got three cases, three, filled with her hideous devices of torture." She took a bracing gulp of coffee. "I should put in for hazardous duty pay for this." She turned toward the wall screen. "Let's see who we've got."
She leaned back on Roarke's desk and studied the images and data, one by one.
Doctors, lawyers, students, engineers, she mused. She earmarked one not currently employed with a minor illegals offense on his record.
"He's not a drone," she said, half to herself. "Not somebody who's pulling an eight-hour shift. He needs time for his hobby and he's got money. He's a professional or he's just living on his portfolio. Whoa, wait. Computer, magnify current photographic image."
She stepped closer to the screen as the face filled it. And stared into Kevin Morano's eyes. "This one rings with me. Yeah, I know those eyes. Kevin. Yeah, there you are, Kevin. Let's see… So Mama worked on the project. No father listed. She was a PR exec. Owns her own firm now. London based, with offices in New York, Paris, and Milan. He's an only child, and was born thirteen months after the project got off the ground. Interesting. Really interesting how a PR exec files a sexual harassment suit, drops it again within six weeks, agrees to have the records sealed. And walks away with a kid and enough money to start an international firm."