She turned to Roarke. “Internal locks, elevators?”
“When inside. It’ll be quick, it’ll be quiet.”
“Then we’re go.”
They moved up the three steps from sidewalk level. Eve drew her weapon as Roarke put a hand on the doorknob. At her nod, he nudged the door open.
She went in low, Roarke and Peabody took high. They swept left, right, then moved in.
“Garage,” Carmichael murmured in her ear. “Two vehicles, the two-seater and a cargo-style AT.”
“Team four complete,” Jenkinson said. “Moving in.”
As they went up the stairs as a unit, Roarke gave Eve the all-clear signal. She gave her communicator two clicks to signal the same to the others.
At the second floor, she held up a fist for hold. She stopped, listened.
Not a sound, not from inside, not even the slightest hum from traffic outside. Once again, she signaled go.
Halfway up to the studio level, she heard voices.
“Hold the pose. Please. Your hands. Don’t move your hands. I need them perfectly still.”
“Doing my best, Jonathan. I have to tell you, these shoes are killing my feet. So damn tight.”
“I’ll work on them next, then you can take them off. No, just…” She heard a heavy sigh. “Wait.”
She didn’t, but moved in fast.
The target, wearing a long red robe, stood facing the entrance while Jonathan’s back was to her as he stepped toward his model.
The man in the robe said, “What the living fuck!”
Jonathan whirled around.
“Police! Jonathan Ebersole, put your hands up.”
Instead, he spun behind his target, and held to the man’s neck something that looked like a pie server.
For an instant, Eve just stared at him. “Really? You’re just that stupid?”
“I’ll slit his throat. Back off, get out of my house thisminute, or I’ll slit his throat.”
“And then what? Next step, Jonathan? You try to cut him, when I’m standing here with a stunner and you’re standing there with, what, a spatula? I win. Your house is surrounded. You’re going nowhere. So—and it’s my first time saying this—put down the spatula.”
She saw his eyes cut to the safe room.
And saw him realize he’d have to go through her to get to it.
“I’m walking out of here, with him, or his blood’s on your hands. I’m defending myself! I’m defending my home, and I’m defending my art!”
The man in the red robe said, “Just fuck this.”
Eve watched as the LC delivered a damn good backfist. And when it struck Jonathan’s nose, it turned out his blood was on the target’s hands.
“Step away from him, please. No,” Eve said quickly, “don’t kick him. Tempting, I know, but just don’t. Step away from him now.”
“I knew it was too good to be true. Good shit’s always too good to be true.” Shoulders slumped, Aaron moved back.
