“Good for you. How did Roarke end it with her last time?”
“He banned her from any of his properties. Also had her tossed out of one in London. That’s right before she came here this time, to Henry Barrister.”
“Ah, see, cagey, but not so very clever. Do you believe in redemption?”
Eve hedged. “Specifically or in general?”
“A cop to the bone,” Mira murmured. “Let’s say specific in this case, because clearly you do. Roarke has more than redeemed himself for any past transgressions. There’s no one who knows him who thinks otherwise. She doesn’t know him. She knows a ghost, a shadow from the past. You’ll do what you need to do. She won’t best you. She didn’t the last time, either.”
“I fell apart for a while.”
“And this time you won’t.” Mira rose, took Eve’s face in her hands.“She wants to shake you, so don’t let her. Take control, and don’t let it go. Hold on to your power, as a cop and as the woman Roarke loves. Make damn sure she sees it.”
“Okay. Okay. Sorry to pull you up here, but—”
“Stop. Whatever conflict you’re dealing with inside that complicated head of yours, stop that, too. You know what to do and how to do it.”
“Yeah.” She stuck her hands in her pockets. “I guess I do, and better get started on doing it.”
“It should also remain in this room that I’m going to feel a great deal of personal satisfaction when you’ve done it. Let me know when you have them.”
“I will. Thanks. Really.”
“You’re welcome. Really.”
When Mira left, Eve turned back to her board. She looked at Magdelana, then at Joy Barrister. On the surface, she thought, the two women couldn’t be more different.
But under the skin, so much the same.
“Yeah, I know what to do so both of you end up in cages.”
When she’d worked out what she could with what she had, she went back out into the bullpen.
Today’s tie was flaming red with a bunch of little black-suited ninjas in various martial arts poses. Some had nunchucks. Some had swords.
And she worried about her mental health, as she almost liked this one.
“I got something to say.”
“Yeah, Jenkinson, I figured that.”
He got to his feet, nodded to the bullpen at large. “Whoever hired that fucker to stick you? He’s going fucking down.”
“I believe you’re using the wrong pronoun.”
“Yeah?” Eyes sparking, he nodded again. “She’s going fucking down.”
“So say we all,” Baxter called out from the other side of the bullpen.
So say we allechoed around the room.
“Appreciated. Briefing in ten on taking her, and those she conspired with to kill Nathan Barrister and put a hole in me, the fuck down.”
“It should hurt,” Santiago put in.
“When I brief you on who’s going down, you’ll understand it’ll hurt. A lot.”
When she turned to leave, the EDD team walked in with Callendar and McNab adding a shock of color even Jenkinson’s tie couldn’t compete with.
