“I do my best.”
“Maybe later you can put in some overtime.”
“Being dedicated to my work, I’ll be available.”
“But for right now, let’s go get the team together for a full briefing. I don’t want any screwups.”
“Lieutenant.” He caught her hand before she reached the door, and tugged her back around. Out of his pocket he drew a silver cross on a silver chain, and dangled it in front of her.
“Knew I forgot something.” But when he draped it over her head, she goggled. “What? You’re serious?”
“Indulge me.” He planted another kiss on her lips, this one brief and firm. “I’m a superstitious man with a logical mind that can entertain the illogical.”
Staring at him, she shook her head. “You’re full of surprises, pal. Just full of them.”
She used a conference room for the briefing. On screen was a diagram of Bloodbath, and a second of the apartment—or the area of the apartment Eve had seen. Both were sketched from memory, with input from the others on the team who’d been inside the club.
As was often the case with underground establishments, no recorded blueprints or work orders could be located.
“There will be alternate exits,” Eve continued. “It’s likely at least some of the staff are aware of them, and will use them. Detaining and arresting waitresses and naked dancers aren’t priorities.”
“Speak for yourself,” Baxter shot out, “on the naked dancers angle.”
“Moving civilians out,” Eve said, ignoring him, “without inciting a riot is a primary goal. Anyone wants to make collars for illegals, that’s a personal decision and can be determined at the time. A couple dozen busts will add weight to the op, and hang on Vadim as manager. Anything and everything we get on him is a plus, but not at the expense of the primary target.”
She scanned faces. “Nobody moves in, nobody tips the scales until I give the go. My communicator will be open for said go. Nothing, I repeat, nothing, is to be recorded from that source. I’m not having this slime skate on a technicality.”
She paused, ordered the computer to show the diagram of the club only. “Our warrant covers only this area. No personnel are to move outside the club area in search or pursuit without probable cause. All weapons low stun.”
Once more, she switched the screen image. Now Dorian Vadim’s face filled it. “This is primary target. Unless specifically ordered or cleared, he is not to be detained or apprehended. If I can’t pull this off, we have no cause for arrest. Suit up,” she ordered. “Vests all around. Report to squad leaders for transportation to target.”
She laid a hand on her sidearm. “Let’s go kick ass.”
As she bent to check her clutch piece, Baxter tapped her shoulder.
“What?”
“Got something for you.” He held it out as she straightened.
“You’re a laugh a minute, Baxter.”
“Yeah, you gotta admit.” He gave the wooden stake an agile toss.
Because she was amused despite herself, she caught the stake in one hand, then stuck it in her belt. “Thanks.”
He blinked, then roared with laughter. “Eve Dallas, Vampire Slayer. One for the books.”
Ten
She went in alone, the way it had to be, as a cop, as a woman fighting her own demons.
She walked the now-familiar path down from the world to the under
ground, through the fetid tunnels with misery skulking in dirty shadows.
She’d come out of the shadows, Eve thought. So she knew what hid there, what bred there. What thrived there.
Light killed shadows, and it created them. But what loved the dark would always scuttle back from the light. Her badge had given her the light, Eve knew. Then Roarke had simply, irreversibly, blasted that light straight through her.