“You know, if we really wanted to stick it to offenders, they would never again taste the amazement of the pie.”
Smiling, Roarke brushed his fingers over her hair. “That seems very harsh.”
“Okay, not all offenses—sliding scale. But murder? Pizza’s off the menu for life. It could be a deterrent. Anyway, I’m eating this slice, then I’m giving Nadine the heads-up. She earned it. And I’ll contact DeLano, tell her it’s closed up. And Rylan’s roommate, our cooperative bartender, the kick-ass former counterintel agent, the skanks.”
“Why don’t I contact Felicity for you? She gave me her contact info.”
“She wanted contact with you, ace, full contact. That was clear.”
He smiled again, danced his fingers up Eve’s arm. “Was it then?”
Eve mulled as she finished the slice. “I could take her. She’s wily and tough, but I could take her if she moved on you.”
“My money’s on you. But I might place a small side bet on her.”
Eve guzzled more Pepsi. “I can take her, so, yeah, go ahead and let her know. She’ll tag Berkle, put her mind to rest. Okay, one hour, the rest of this pizza, then home.”
“And there, I can take you.”
She glanced at him, decided she could eat another slice while making the calls. “Want to lay a bet on who takes who first?”
“Either way, I win.” He leaned over, kissed her. “Good work, Lieutenant.”
“Yeah, all in all.”
All in all, she thought again as, with a slice in one hand, she swiveled her chair around to finish the job.
And close the book.