Robb "No, no. And he seemed to shrink into her. Where would he go? What would he do next? He needs to rest. I wanted him to carry on my mission.
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Robb "No, no. And he seemed to shrink into her. Where would he go? What would he do next? He needs to rest. I wanted him to carry on my mission. Not this way. Your father killed for sport, for money, for the hell of it," he said to Roarke. I look at you and see him. You grew out of him. Will you? My son is a thorough man. Payment would be dearer than that.
You need to be in the hospital. No health centers. Try to take him alive, Dallas. I want him to get the help he needs. She took a long, deep breath. Could you help me, please?
Take him into his bedroom. Skinner does. Then drew her weapon as she saw Hayes step out of the stairway door at the end of the corridor. The weapon in his hand was illegal. You track him. Moving fast. Consider subject armed and dangerous. But it was Eve who fired, leaning over the railing and turning the steps below into rubble.
Caught in mid-stride, Hayes tried to swing back, bolt for the door, but his momentum skewed his balance. He went down hard on the smoking, broken steps. And Angelo shoved through the door, weapon gripped in both hands. For what? He swiped at the blood on his chin while his eyes burned into hers. I wanted to give him more. They honored their fathers, as I honor mine. You had Vinter sabotage the cameras, and when she realized why, you killed her. Justice requires payment. You were going to be my last gift to him.
You in a cage," he said to Roarke. What floor? Second door on the right takes us behind the stage area. He likes explosives. Son of a bitch! Any officer, any officer, clear Conference Room D immediately. Clear the area of all personnel. Possible explosive device.
Alert Explosive Division. Clear that area now! I sent her there, was all she could think. And I smirked about it. Oh, God, please. There was a roaring in her ears that was either her own rush of blood, the noise of the audience, or the shouted orders to clear. But she spotted Peabody standing behind the podium and leaped the three steps on the side of the stage.
Leaped again the minute her feet hit the ground and, hitting her aide mid-body, shot them both into the air and into a bruised and tangled heap on the floor. She sucked in her breath, then lost it again as Roarke landed on top of her. The explosion rang in her ears, sent the floor under her shaking. She felt the mean heat of it spew over her like a wave that sent the three of them rolling in one ball toward the far edge of the stage. Debris rained over them, some of it flaming.
Dimly she heard running feet, shouts, and the sizzling hiss of a fire. For the second time in two days, she was drenched with the spray of overhead sprinklers.
Now get the hell off me. This is seriously undignified. She was soaked to the skin, filthy, had a few cuts, a medley of bruises. She figured her ears might stop ringing by Christmas. But all in all, she felt just fine. Have to hand it to you. You know, Dallas, you look like you could use a nice resort vacation. I witnessed the termination. He left life with courage and dignity.
He asked me if you would stand in the way of his departmental service and burial. Character does. He gave fifty years to the badge. She was going home as soon as humanly possible. The streets of New York were resort enough for her. The End.
Interlude in Death
Interlude In Death
Interlude in Death (In Death #12.5)(13) by J.D. Robb
Midnight in Death / Interlude in Death