Page 107 of Bonded in Death

“Tell me about it,” Eve muttered as she pocketed her ’link. “Let’s take that walk.”

“He should’ve shown by now if he was doing what I’d have done.” Roarke got out, joined Eve on the sidewalk. And took her hand. “Just in case,” he said. “We’re an ordinary couple taking a stroll on a lovely September evening.”

“Right.”

She took out her communicator, told the team they were moving in.

“No sign of him.” She pocketed the comm. “I’m turning on my recorder. We’ll go straight in. Record on. Dallas, Lieutenant Eve, and expert civilian consultant Roarke.”

She gave Roarke a nod at the entrance as she read in the details of the warrant.

“I’ve bypassed the alarm,” he added, “so as not to cause undue attention.”

And slick, silent, and smooth, they were in.

Eve hit the lights; Roarke took out the explosive detector.

They worked front to back, sweeping the tables, the bar, the booths while the indicator remained green and silent.

“Maybe he’s got another way,” Eve began.

At a back corner booth, it chirped, turned red.

“And there we have it.”

Handing the detector to Eve, Roarke took out a penlight, crouched down. “Interesting.”

“That’s not a word I like when attached to a bomb.”

She got down with him, twisted to look under the table. “Timer, right?Set to go off in thirteen hours, thirty-six minutes, forty-six seconds and counting. Give them time to sit and settle, maybe order a drink, wait for the cousin. How the hell did he get past the team and set this a half hour later than he’d said in the first contact?”

“He set the timer remotely. And there’s a backup to detonate by remote.”

“Well Jesus. Fuck. Get out of there. I’ll bring in the bomb squad.”

“No need, give us a minute.”

“If he’s watching the place, he could just set the goddamn thing off. Your face is on top of it. I like your face.”

He glanced toward her, smiled. “Thank you, darling. I’m very fond of yours. This is an old device. Urban Wars era. I learned on one of these bastards. Hold this on it, will you?”

While she held the light, watched the minute go from thirty-six to thirty-five, he got out tools. She didn’t know what the hell he did with them, but wished he wouldn’t.

“Listen, Roarke—”

“Shh. It has a nice but faint hum. I need to hear it. I thought, after all this time, you’d trust me.”

“I do, but… that’s the guilt crap, isn’t it?”

“Mmm. There now.” He set some sort of housing down. “You’ll want to bag all this. You should run back, get your field kit.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Ace. And if you think I’d leave you here with a fucking bomb, you hurt my feelings.”

“A good attempt at the guilt crap.”

His long, clever fingers drew out some wires. She wanted those fingers whole and attached to his hands.

“He does like to complicate things, the right prick, so we’re not falling for that, are we now?”

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