Amused, she watched him come out, firmly close the door as she buttoned on the vest.
“Really?”
“He needs to learn not to lap at dishes.”
“Next, you’ll put the breakfast stuff in your closet safe.”
“If needs be.”
She strapped on her weapon harness, frowned at the small studs. “I want to say cops don’t wear diamonds, but I’ve got a big-ass one under my shirt.”
“The studs are a subtle statement, and won’t go unnoticed if you deal with any of Ebersole’s family today.”
“I expect to. Someone’s going to come to protect the baby boy against the big bad cop.”
She put them on, and decided to do exactly what Roarke had told her she would. Forget she wore them. So she sat, pulled on her boots. And from her vantage point, watched the cat manage to open the closet just enough to squeeze his bulk through.
“Roarke.”
He glanced over where she nodded.
“Well, fuck me.” He marched to the closet, came back out with a disappointed Galahad. “Banishment it is then.”
As he put the cat out of the room, Eve’s ’link signaled.
“Looks like Reo’s tagging me first,” she said as she picked it up. “Dallas.”
“How soon can you get to the courthouse?”
“I’m leaving here in a minute. Why?”
“Jonathan Ebersole has Kopeckne, Addison, Wright, and Wu as his counsel.”
“Which means?”
“They’re who defense attorneys want to be when they grow up,” On-screen, Reo used both hands to somehow pull her fluffy hair into a smooth twist. “And he’s got a bail hearing at nine.”
“What? Nobody works that fast.”
“They do. Arraignment and bail hearing at nine.”
“He won’t make bail.” She worried there, but… “Not with these charges, he won’t. He’s a flight risk.”
“Dallas, they maneuvered somehow, and got Judge McEnroy.”
“Shit. Shit. I’m on my way.”
“Tell me what it means,” Roarke asked as she grabbed her jacket.
“It means they managed to get the judge most likely to set bail. Not a slam dunk, not with these charges, not with Ebersole’s money and connections that scream flight risk, but not impossible. It should be. It should be impossible. If he gets out for five damn minutes, he’ll run. His family will get him out of the country, set him up, and…”
She had to take a minute, and a long breath with it. “They’ll put a tracker on him. McEnroy’s big on trackers, but… I need a favor.”
“Of course.”
Ten minutes later, she jogged down the steps. Roarke went with her, stopped her at the door by taking her shoulders.
“I expect you to take care of my cop and keep me updated.”
