Golden in Death (In Death 50)

“Whoever it was, they’re safe.”

“You had a big part in seeing they are.”

“We can both rest easy for a few hours knowing we did our part.”

She slid into bed where the cat already stretched out, tried again to let the long day go as Roarke drew her back against him. She took Roarke’s hand.

“They had everything we didn’t. Now one’s in the morgue, and the other will spend the rest of his life in a cage.”

He kissed the back of her head. “And here we are. Sleep now.” Knowing it lulled her, Roarke rubbed her back. “Morning comes soon enough.”

* * *

Morning came at five-twelve when her communicator signaled. “Block video,” she mumbled as she groped for it.

Already up, Roarke ordered the lights on at ten percent.

“Dallas.”

“Junta. We’ve got the package. It’s secured.”

She shoved a hand through her hair as she rolled out of bed. “Where?”

“They went Allied again, made the drop at nineteen-forty. Kiosk’s just a couple blocks from the warehouse. We tracked it to the shipping port, confiscated it. They got cute with the bogus sender. Duck, Duck, Goose. It was addressed to Lilliana Rosalind.”

“The chemistry teacher’s wife. Good work, Junta.”

“All around. Finish him off, Dallas.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll get back to you.”

When she clicked off, Roarke handed her coffee. “Thanks. You were already up. Mostly dressed.”

“’Link conference shortly.” He stood in black suit pants, a dove-gray shirt while he flawlessly knotted a tie that blended those tones with a sharp red in tiny checks. “What’s next, Lieutenant?”

“Check in, get teams together, set things up. I want Mira observing my interview with Whitt. I can coordinate most of that from here. I’ll grab a shower and get moving.”

“I’m in my office if you need anything. It was good work, all around,” he added before picking up his suit jacket.

So far, she

thought as she headed to the shower, and he went out.

With Cosner disposed of, evidence removed, Whitt considered himself in the clear, she calculated as the hot jets pummeled her system awake. Wouldn’t it be satisfying to disabuse him? Still, she had to take care on where and how to apply the pressure.

Debating her options, she hopped in the drying tube.

More coffee, she decided, and grabbed that before going into her closet. She started to grab whatever at random, thinking how much easier that chore had been when she’d had maybe six choices. She didn’t have time to think about stupid style and horseshit image.

Giving a passing thought to spring weather, she opted for a vest rather than a jacket, grabbed sturdy ankle boots, and walked out to strap on her weapon harness. As she grabbed her ’link, her communicator, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. Stopped. Thought: Hmm.

Maybe she hadn’t realized she’d given it any thought, but she’d managed to pair black leather pants with the black leather vest over a straight-lined black shirt and the thick-soled black boots.

Good for running after bad guys, and kicking asses.

All in all, she came off just a little mean. Which she considered perfect.

She went straight to her office, her command center, and her third cup of coffee.