Page 86 of Treachery in Death

“I’m with you there.” He eased up, smiled down at her. “You look healthy, my darling Eve, lying naked in the sunlight.”

“If you’d have suggested a couple hours ago I’d be lying naked in the sunlight I’d’ve called bullshit. But I don’t feel pissed or pissy anymore, so I guess it was healthy.”

She sat up, reached for her tank, then her eyes popped as she tapped a hand on the wire camouflaged between her breasts. “I forgot about the wire.”

“Well, one hopes it’s off or we’ve given Feeney and/or McNab some unscheduled entertainment.”

“It’s off—I cued it in the pub. But, Jesus, I’m not supposed to forget it’s there.”

“You were busy walking,” he said when she dragged the tank over her head.

“It’s a damn good thing I didn’t call out for cinnamon donuts while you were busy walking with me.”

After they’d dressed he took her hand as he had before, gave her arm a little swing with his. “I expect you fancy pizza for dinner.”

“It’d be easy. I’ve got some digging to do, and I need to check Peabody’s progress on hers. Plus you haven’t given me an update on yours—on the finances.”

“We’ll get to that.”

“Problem?”

He wound back through the garden. “There wouldn’t be if you’d bent a bit, given me the go to look into it my way. I’ve got some surface right enough, but I can’t reach under the layers with my hands cuffed, Eve.”

“And if you use the unregistered, I’d have the data, but I couldn’t use it.”

“The unregistered would simplify it.”

“I guess I didn’t realize you could only do simple.”

He stopped, shot her a narrow, frustrated look. “I know damn well you’re aiming at my ego, and well played. I can do it without the unregistered. There are ways, but they’re still my ways. If I do it yours, it could take weeks. I’d think you could trust me to know how far over the line I can go and keep the data clean. Otherwise, you should do it yourself.”

She made a rude face behind his back as he opened the door. Childish, she knew, but it felt good. “If I can get proof Renee has secret accounts, that Garnet does, or Bix, I can clear Webster to open that part of it to IAB. He’s hamstrung, too.”

“Then unstring us, damn it.”

“You don’t have to get mad about it,” she said as they both strode past Summerset and up the steps.

“I’m not a cop,” Roarke reminded her.

“Alert the media.”

“Mind yourself, Lieutenant. I’m not a cop,” he repeated, “and it’s annoying to be asked to perform minor miracles while toeing the line you set.”

It was her turn for frustrated, with a pinch of temper. “I’ve moved it plenty, and you know it.”

“So move it again.”

“Every time I do, I worry I won’t remember where I left it.”

“You couldn’t forget that if you had amnesia. Added to it, I know where. I may not agree, but I know where you put it, and how far you can nudge it and feel you’ve done the right thing. You ought to know the same of me.”

She opened her mouth, prepared to punch back a little, then closed it again. “I do,” she realized. “I guess I do. This is ... a situation. If I had the data, I could pass it officially to Webster for IAB. If IAB could officially open an investigation, they’d find the damn data. I’m trying to find the way between, and what I’m hearing is you can’t get it with the way I’ve set this up. I don’t get why, but—”

“I can bloody do it.”

Insult reared up in his eyes. Not just insult, she decided. Geek insult.

“But it’ll take more time—considerable time.” He lifted his brows, his voice coolly pleasant. “Would you like me to explain all the technical reasons, roadblocks, fail-safes, and so on as to why?”

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