Survivor in Death (In Death 20)

“I’ll do it on the way. I’m going with you. That child was my responsibility.”

Rather than argue, Roarke checked the weapon he’d taken out, tossed it to Summerset, and chose another. “You’ll have to keep up.”

23

AS SHE REACHED THE STEPS, EVE EASED HER communicator out of her pocket. She keyed in a code, ordering Baxter in as backup. When there was no response, she let the curses roll in her head. She tapped into Dispatch, keyed in for officer-needs-assistance. If it was kids playing hide-and-seek upstairs, she’d live down the humiliation.

She backed down, made her way quietly toward the rear of the house. She’d call Baxter again, and she’d use the domestic’s steps.

She’d reached the kitchen when the lights shut off.

She crouched in the dark, and though her heart gave three solid bumps, her mind stayed cool. They’d sprung a trap before she did, but it didn’t mean she’d wouldn’t take the cheese and walk away.

She keyed her communicator again, intending to order armed response, and found it dead in her hand.

Jammed all electronics. Smart. Goddamn smart. Still, they had to find her before she found them. She thought briefly of Baxter, and blocked emotion. He was down, no question. The cops out front, too.

Just me and you, then. Let’s see who brings it first.

She stayed low, and with her eyes adjusting to the dark, slipped toward the domestic’s quarters. A movement from behind had her swinging around with her finger trembling on the trigger.

She recognized Nixie by scent almost before she recognized the small shape of girl. Biting off curses, she slapped her hand over Nixie’s mouth and dragged her into Inga’s parlor.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Eve whispered.

“I saw them, I saw them. They came in the house. They went up the stairs.”

No time for questions. “You listen to me. You hide in here, you hide good. You don’t make a sound, not a fucking sound. You don’t come out until I say so.”

“I called Roarke. I called him on the ’link.”

Oh Christ, what was he walking into? “Fine. Don’t come out until one of us says so. They don’t know you’re here. They won’t find you. I’ve got to go up.”

“You can’t. They’ll kill you.”

“They won’t. I’ve got to go up, because my friend’s hurt.” Or dead. “Because it’s my job. You do what I tell you, and you do it now.”

She half-carried Nixie across the room, shoved her under the sofa. “Stay there. Stay quiet, or I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”

Eve eased open the door to the stairs, breathing again when she found the housekeeper had kept the hinges well-oiled. Take it to the second floor, she thought. Away from the kid. Take it to them.

Roarke would get backup, she could trust him for that. Just as she could trust he was already on his way—fighting back worry for her. And he might not fight it off well enough.

She slipped up the steps like a shadow, and listened at the door.

Not a sound, not a breath. Night-vision, certainly. They’d spread out now, looking for her. Cover the exits, sweep room by room. She’d lied to Nixie. They’d find her. They’d find her because they were looking for a cop, and they’d look everywhere.

Unless she showed herself.

They thought she was looking for kids, so they wouldn’t expect she’d have her weapon out—or even so, that she’d be primed.

Time she gave them a surprise.

She rolled her shoulders and, laying down a stream right and left, went through the door.

There was answering fire from her left, but it was high and she was already down and rolling. She was blasting in the direction of the returning stream.

She saw the shadow, heard the thud of it when the blast kicked it back against the wall.