"As soon as the fuckface and I have a chat, you can get back to your game."
She wasn't worried about Ledo running now. Not since the two other players had flanked him and were holding his spindly arms. But the slab of meat blocking her gave her a light body shove and showed his fangs again.
"We don't want cops in here." He shoved her again. "We eat cops in here."
"Well, in that case…" She took a step back, watched his eyes glint in triumph. Then, quick as a snake, she snatched up Ledo's prized cue, rammed the point end into the copper-colored gut. And when he grunted, bent forward, she swung it like a pinch hitter in the bottom of the ninth.
It made a satisfactory cracking sound when it connected with the side of his head. He stumbled once, shook his head violently, then with blood in his eye, came at her.
She shot her knee into his balls, watched his face go from gleaming copper to pasty gray as he dropped.
Stepping out of the way, Eve scanned the room. "Now, anybody else want to try to eat this cop?"
"You broke my cue!" Close to tears, Ledo lunged forward and grabbed for his baby. The handle jerked up and caught Eve on the cheekbone. She saw stars, but she didn't blink.
"Ledo, you asshole," she began.
"Hold it." The man who walked in looked like one of the ladder-climbing execs that raced along the streets overhead and several blocks north. He was slim and stylish and clean.
The thin layer of scum that coated everything else didn't seem to touch him.
With one hand restraining Ledo, Eve turned, yanked out her badge. "At the moment," she said evenly, "I've got no problem with you. Do you want that to change?"
"Not at all…" He flicked his silvery blue eyes at her badge, over her face, let them pass over Peabody, who stood at alert. "Lieutenant," he finished. "I'm afraid we rarely have any of New York's finest visit the establishment. My customers were taken by surprise."
He dropped his gaze to the man who still moaned on the floor. "In a number of ways," he added. "I'm Carmine, and this is my place. What can I do for you?"
"Not a thing, Carmine. I just want to chat with one of your…customers."
"I'm sure you'd like to have somewhere quiet to chat. Why don't I show you to one of our privacy rooms?"
"That'll be just dandy, Carmine. Peabody?" Eve wrenched the cue out of Ledo's grip and passed it over. "My aide's going to be walking right behind you, Ledo. If you don't keep up, she's likely to stumble and that precious stick of yours might get rammed right up your butt."
"I didn't do nothing," Ledo claimed in something close to a wail, but he kept pace with Eve as she followed Carmine through a curtained area to a line of doors.
Carmine opened one, gestured. "Anything else I can do for you, Lieutenant?"
"Just keep your customers chilled, Carmine. Neither one of us wants NYPSD to order a sweep on this place."
He acknowledged the warning with a nod, then left them alone as Eve tossed the whining Ledo into the room. "You stand, Peabody. You're cleared to use your weapon if anyone blinks at you."
"Yes, sir." Peabody shifted her grip on the cue, set her free hand on her stunner, and put her back to the wall.
Satisfied, Eve stepped inside, closed the door. As amenities went, it was a zero, with its narrow cot, smudged view screen, and sticky floor. But it was private.
"Well, Ledo." Eve fingered the raw bruise on her cheekbone—not because it stung, though it did. She used the gesture to make Ledo tremble in fear of retribution. "Been awhile."
"I've been clean," he said quickly, and she laughed, keeping the sound low and sharp.
"Don't insult my intelligence. You wouldn't be clean after six days in a decontamination chamber. You know what this does?" She tapped a finger on her facial bruise. "This assaulting an officer deal gives me the right to search you right now, to haul your skinny butt into Central, and to get a warrant to go through your flop."
"Hey, Dallas, hey." He held up both hands, palms up. "It was an accident."
"Maybe I'll let it go at that, Ledo. Maybe I will—if you convince me you're in a cooperative mood."
"Damn straight, Dallas. What d'ya want? Some Jazz, Go Smoke, Ecstasy?" He started to dig in his pockets. "No charge, none whatsoever for you. I don't got it now, I'll get it."
Her eyes turned to bright gold slits. "You take anything out of your pockets but your ugly fingers, Ledo, you're even more stupid than I figured. And I figured you for a brain the size of a walnut."