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She broke off when he looked up at her, when she saw his raw emotions flash his stunned pleasure. It was tough going to stun the man with anything—including a steel bat. "I guess you like it."

"It's the most precious gift I've ever been given. I liked this moment, too. Very much." He rose, set the painting carefully aside. Then slid his arms around her and drew her in, rubbed his cheek over her with the kind of exquisite tenderness that had her heart spilling out of her chest. "Thank you."

"That's okay." She sighed against him. "Happy anniversary. I need a minute to settle here, maybe one more drink. Then I'll clear that table."

He stroked a hand over her hair. "That's a deal."

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Eve might not have given two credits about fashion, but she'd chosen her outfit carefully for the operation. She was already wired, in more ways than one.

Energy was pumping through her, too fast, too hot. That, she knew, would

have to be chilled before she stepped out of the door. Feeney had already fixed the transmitter to her chest, and the receiver in her ear.

Standing naked in her bedroom, she studied herself critically and could barely see the change of skin tones between her breasts where the mike rested.

Not that it would matter. The outfit wasn't designed to show a lot of skin.

Which was a good thing, as some of it was still bruised. Not too bad, she thought as she pushed a finger at the discoloring on her hip. And it only ached a little if she forgot to sit down often enough.

The face? She turned her head, wiggled her jaw. You could hardly notice, and she'd break down and slap on some enhancements to cover what still showed.

That process took her about ten minutes and caused some nominal frustration with the lip dye. Silly stuff never looked right on her, she thought as she went back to the bedroom to dress.

She'd chosen black. The glinting silver threads sparkling through the modified skin suit didn't interest her. The easy give of the fabric was key. Her primary weapon nestled in the small of her back, holstered there by what looked like a decorative silver belt. She'd tagged Leonardo for that little accessory. He'd come through fast and efficiently. And she supposed stylishly but it was tough to prove those things by her.

As she preferred the side to the back draw, she practiced for a few minutes until the movement smoothed out and became more natural.

Satisfied, she shot a clutch piece into an ankle holster, slid a small combat knife into an ankle sheath. Over these she slid soft black boots, then again studied the results. It would do, she decided, then went into a deep crouch and drew both secondaries.

"That's quite a picture you make, Lieutenant." Roarke strolled in, his shirt carelessly unbuttoned. Her vision was sharp enough to see that Feeney had finished wiring him as well. "Sure you have enough hardware there?"

"I'm not finished." She straightened, picked up a pair of restraints from the dresser. She looped them through the belt, secured them behind her left hip.

"Put some heels on those boots, add a whip, and we'd really have something." He walked a measuring circle around her. "As is, you're bound to intimidate the other attendees."

"I got that covered." She picked up a jacket in the same fluid black and silver. It shimmered to her knees.

Angling his head, Roarke circled his finger. Though she was annoyed she did a pair of quick turns. The jacket billowed, giving provocative hints of the body slicked into the skin suit, and draped cleanly over the police gear at her back.

"You'll definitely do," he decided. He feathered his fingers over her cheek, over the fading bruises she'd concealed. "But I wish you weren't quite so worried."

"I'm not worried." She picked up the teardrop diamond he'd once given her, looped the chain over her neck. And added the St. Jude medallion to it. "Got my protection. Anyway, some bitch goes after my man, I'm going to take her down. That's it."

"Darling, that's so sweet."

She met his gaze in the mirror as she fought on the Sea Queen's earrings, made herself grin as he was. "Yeah, that's me. Just a sentimental slob. You gonna suit up, or are you going casual?"

"Oh, I'll find something appropriate, so I don't embarrass my fashionable wife."

She watched him go to the personal department store he called a closet. "Is your transmitter activated yet?"

"No. Tested, then put on hold. Feeney's very strict about EDD eavesdropping in the bedroom."

"Okay. Look I know you're not going in empty. I want you to leave whatever weapon you're planning to take here."

He chose a suit of midnight black. "Is that an order, Lieutenant?"


Tags: J.D. Robb In Death Mystery