“No, I’m not going to say it.” Feeney folded his mouth firm, then met Roarke’s eyes. “First, it’d be a fucking lie, the sort that’d burn my tongue clean off because there’s part of me that’d like to give you a hand with it.”
Feeney stuffed the bag back in his sagging pocket, then kicked the base of the sculpture. The gesture was so like Eve, Roarke felt a smile tug at his mouth.
“And second?”
“Second, you wouldn’t give a good goddamn about the right or wrong of it. But you give one about Dallas. You give one about how she feels, about what she needs from you.” His color came up as he spoke, staining his cheeks with embarrassment. “I don’t want to get into that whole thing. Makes me feel like an asshole. But I’m saying you should think, you should think long and hard about what it’d do to her before you do anything.”
“I am. And I will.”
“Okay. Then let’s just move on.”
Though he was both touched and amused, Roarke nodded. “Moving on, then.” He disengaged the jammer, then studied the readout from the scan. “I’m getting the expected metals, solvents, finishes, and sealants. That’s using the strongest setting corporations and facilities would use in high-risk or sensitive areas.”
“Bump it up. Let’s see what it’ll do with the bells and whistles we added.”
“Best move aside,” Roarke warned. “The beam may not be friendly to cloth and flesh.”
Feeney stepped back from the sculpture, then decided the best place was behind the scanner.
The red beam shot out with a insectile hum. As it struck the metal, the entire sculpture seemed to shimmer.
“Shit. Shit! If we set it too high it might melt that crap down to a puddle.”
“It’s not too high,” Roarke responded. “It may soften a few joints, but other than that . . .” Still he pushed it, upping the speed so the beam scanned the piece faster than he’d planned. Even from behind the unit, he could feel the heat and smell the electric buzz in the air.
When he shut down, Feeney gave a whistling breath. “That is some son of a bitch! Some son of a bitch. I’m doing the next one.”
“Might be wise to wear goggles next run.” Roarke blinked. “I’ve dots in front of my eyes.” But he was grinning, as Feeney was. “Nice rush, wasn’t it?”
“You got that right. And look here.” Feeney slapped Roarke on the back as he leaned over to scan the readout. “I’m seeing chips, and I’m seeing fiber optics, and some goddamn silicon.”
“Bugs.”
Feeney straightened, flexed his fingers. “Bugs. Give the girl the brass ring.”
When Eve walked back into her office, she wasn’t particularly surprised to see on-air reporter Nadine Furst sitting in her visitor’s chair and carefully redoing her lip dye.
She fluttered her long, silky lashes and turned that freshly tinted mouth up into a smile. “Cookies,” Nadine said with a gesture toward the little bag on Eve’s desk. “I culled six for you before bribing your men.”
Eve poked into the box, and came out with chocolate chip. “There’s an oatmeal cookie in there. I see no reason for the existence of oatmeal, particularly in cookies.”
“So noted. Why don’t you give it back to me, then it won’t offend your sensibilities?”
Eve pulled out the fat round cookie, handed it over before closing her door. The closed door had Nadine lifting her perfectly arched brows before nibbling on the cookie.
“Is that so you can yell at me for being in your office, or is it so we can exchange juicy girl secrets.”
“I don’t have any juicy girl secrets.”
“You’re married to Roarke. You’d have the juiciest on or off planet.”
Eve sat, rested her boots on the desk. “Have I ever told you what he can do to the female body with a single fingertip?”
Nadine leaned forward. “No.”
“Good. Just wanted to be sure.”
“Bitch,” Nadine said with a laugh. “Now about this double homicide, and Reva Ewing.”