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“You fall on your face,” Feeney murmured in her ear, “you’ll ruin your exit.”

“Yeah. Yeah.”

“Just lean on me, Lieutenant.” McNab wrapped an arm around her waist.

“You try to cop a feel, I can still put you down.”

“Whatever your condition, Dallas, you still scare me.”

“Aw.” Touched, she slung an arm around his shoulders. “That’s so sweet.”

Taking her weight, he led her through the maze of rooms, up the stairs. “We couldn’t get in,” he told her. “We were maybe ten minutes behind you—traffic snarl—then we couldn’t get in the damn house. Your car wasn’t there, but we knew you’d gone in. I couldn’t get through the security. Roarke did. We had battering rams and laser torches coming, but he got through.”

“Nothing much keeps him out.”

“It took time, even for him. Place is like the frigging Pentagon or something. Then we had to get through the next level on the basement.”

“How long was I in there?”

“Twenty minutes, half an hour, maybe.”

“Not too bad.”

“I’ll take her from here,” Roarke said.

“Don’t—aw, no picking me up.” But she was already cradled in his arms.

“I have to, for a minute anyway.” He simply buried his face against the side of her neck as cops and techs swarmed by. “I couldn’t get to you.”

“Yeah, you did. Besides, I told you I could handle myself.”

“So you did, so you always do. Are you hurt?”

“No. Feel like I guzzled a bottle of wine, and not the good stuff. But it’s passing some. Gee, your hair smells good.” She sniffed at it, caught herself, and winced. “Damn tranqs. You gotta put me down. This is undermining my rep and authority.”

He eased her onto her feet, but kept his arm around her waist for support. “You need to lie down.”

“Really don’t. You lie down and everything starts spinning around. Just need to walk it off.”

“Lieutenant?” Newkirk walked up with her coat. “Ms. Greenfeld asked that this get back to you.”

“Thanks. Where is she?”

“MTs are working on her, in the hall—the foyer, I guess it is.”

“All right. Officer Newkirk? You did good work.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Right now it feels like good work.”

“I want to take a look at her before they transport her,” Eve said to Roarke, and let him help her to the foyer.

Ariel was on a stretcher, covered with a blanket, a pair of MTs preparing to roll her out.

“Give me a minute. Hey,” she said to Ariel, “how you doing?”

“They gave me some really mag drugs. I feel sooooo good. You saved my life.” Ariel reached up to grip Eve’s hand.

“I had a part in it. So did the cops crowding into this place, and this civilian here, too. But mostly, Ariel? You saved yourself. We’re going to nee


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