Home > Books > Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(119)

Desperation in Death (In Death #55)(119)

Author:J. D. Robb

“Come and get me.”

“Dallas, Lowenbaum. We burned through the privacy screens, and have a clear shot of the subject on the top floor. Want us to take it?”

“And spoil my fun? Just hold.”

She dived, facing the opening, sweeping streams as the return fire hit over her head.

The gasp of pain brought huge satisfaction.

Beaty had dropped to her knees, her right arm shaking where the stream had grazed her. Her stunner lay on the floor.

“Go ahead, try for it. It won’t be a glancing hit this time.”

“I know who you are. Bitch.”

“Yeah? I know who you are. Move another inch toward it, we’ll be carting your unconscious ass out of here. You’re done, get it? The girls are out, your perverted staff is in custody. Now, down on your face, hands behind your back.”

“I don’t take orders. I give them!”

With that, she lunged up, charged. Eve had a split second to decide, but since she already had, it didn’t take that long.

She lowered the weapon in her right hand and led with her left.

One jab in the face.

“That’s for Mina Cabot.”

Beaty’s head snapped back; her eyes went glassy for an instant. Then she snarled, grabbed for Eve’s weapon with one hand, tried a right cross with the other. Blocking most of it—a couple of knuckles on the chin got through—Eve stomped her boot on Beaty’s designer heel.

“That can be for Dorian Gregg. And this?” The uppercut had Beaty’s eyes rolling back white. “For all the others.” She stepped over to put her boot on the dropped stunner.

Breathed out, breathed clear as she studied the woman sprawled at her feet.

“Subject is down.”

Her weapon swung back up when she caught movement in the doorway. Then lowered with a shake of her head when she saw Roarke.

“Nearly took a stream, pal.”

“I trust your reflexes. I wasn’t needed in the van, so I thought to see what you were up to.” He tapped his chin. “Caught you a bit, did she?”

“Caught her more.”

“So I see. The rest of the teams are a bit busy at the moment. One of the guards got to a weapons lockup before it could be secured.” He held up a hand. “Under control or I wouldn’t have simply continued up.”

“Injuries?”

“I can’t tell you, but Peabody indicated all minor on your side. Mira’s already cleared about twenty of the girls, medically, so they can be taken into Central. Feeney’s already having at the electronics. When do you want to leave?”

She crouched, secured Beaty’s hands behind her back. “Now’s good, or as soon as I get the clear from all teams, and somebody comes up and hauls this one out of here.

“Here comes Peabody.” Eve turned to the door as her partner, one eye swollen, rushed to the door.

“We’re clear. Got the last of the girls out. Bad guys in custody, already transported, or secured and awaiting same.”

“Good. Who punched you in the eye?”

“Elbow jab. Jenkinson took a double stream to the chest. Even with the vest, it knocked him on his ass. He is pissed. But we kicked their ass a lot harder.”

“We kicked their ass. Start processing those kicked asses, and get some muscular uniforms up here to haul her out. She’s no lightweight.”

“You’re going? You sure you don’t want me to go with?”

“Need you at Central. Long Island team,” she said into her comm. “We’re a go in … five,” she said when Roarke held up five fingers. Then she pointed at the stunner on the floor. “Make sure that gets bagged and taken in, Peabody. Good work, and put an ice pack on the eye.”

“You’ve got a bruise on your jaw.”

“Shit.” She rubbed at it. “Well, all in a day’s.”

* * *

She hated this part, but knew the timing mattered too much to indulge herself. When she reached the roof, she took one look at the waiting jet-copter and sucked it up.

She got in, strapped in as the others—Feeney, McNab, Lowenbaum, and two of his men along with two uniforms—did the same.

Roarke took the pilot’s chair while she took out her ’link and notified the Long Island PSD currently watching the estate that they were on their way.

A lot of manpower, she thought—because she wanted to think of anything but the sound of the damn flying machine roaring to life—for one rich, middle-aged pervert, but they didn’t know how many they’d come up against.