In Death 07 - Holiday in Death

aside and jump him.
    Peabody stayed out later than she'd intended, enjoyed herself more than she'd imagined. Of course, she thought, as she clomped up the stairs to her apartment, that was probably the result of the liquor and not the company.
    Though, she could admit, McNab hadn't been as much of an asshole as usual.
    Now that she was pleasantly oiled, she thought she'd like to bundle into her ratty robe, turn on her tree, and curl up in bed to watch some sappy Christmas special on screen. At midnight, she'd call her parents and they'd all get sloppy and sentimental.
    It had turned out to be a halfway decent Christmas Eve after all.
    She turned at the top of the stairs and, humming a bit, walked toward her door.
    Santa Claus stepped around the corner with his big silver box in hand, and beamed at her out of mad eyes. "Hello, little girl! You're out late. I was afraid I'd miss giving you your Christmas present."
    Oh, Peabody thought. Oh shit. She had a split second to make up her mind. Run or stand. Her stunner was strapped inside her coat, and her coat was buttoned. But the communicator was in the pocket, within reach.
    She opted to stand. Straining for a smile, she slid her hand into her pocket, engaged the unit. "Wow, Santa Claus. I never expected to run into you right here in front of my apartment door. Bearing gifts, too. I don't even have a chimney."
    He threw back his head and laughed.
    Eve groaned, rolled over, and stretched. They'd never made it to the bed, but had torn into each other on the floor. She felt bruised, used, and fabulous.
    "That was pretty good for starters."
    Beside her Roarke chuckled and slid a fingertip down her warm, damp breast. "I was just thinking the same thing. But I want my Christmas present."
    "Wasn't that it?" But she laughed, sat up, and rubbed her hands over her hair. "But next year -- "
    She broke off as she heard Peabody's voice coming out of a pile of discarded clothes.
    Wow. Santa Claus. I never expected to run into you right in front of my apartment door.
    "Oh my God. Oh God." She was already up, ripping at the clothes, dragging on trousers. "Call it in, call it in. Officer needs assistance. Oh Jesus, Roarke."
    He was pulling on his pants one-handed and snatching his porta-'link with the other. "Let's move. Go. We'll call on the run."
    "I've been waiting for you," Simon told her. "With something very special."
    Stall, stall, stall. "Do I get a hint?"
    "Something someone who loves you chose just for you." He started toward her, and she kept the smile in place as she frantically flipped open the buttons of her coat.
    "Yeah? Who loves me?"
    "Santa loves you, Delia. Pretty Delia."
    She saw his hand come up, caught a glimpse of the pressure syringe palmed in it. Pivoting, she brought up her elbow to block, fighting to get past the stiff wool to her weapon.
    "Naughty!" His breath wheezed out as he slapped her into the wall. She countered with a backhand punch, but it bounced off the box. And now her weapon hand was trapped between her body and the wall.
    "Get off me, you son of a bitch." She swiveled, and kicked back to hook her foot around his ankle, cursing herself for indulging in that last drink. She felt the quick sting of the syringe against her neck even as he went down behind her.
    "Damn, oh damn," she managed, as she stumbled two steps away, then just slid bonelessly down the wall.
    "Look what you've done. Just look." He scolded her as he opened her bag, searched through for her key card. "You might have broken something. I'm going to be very angry if you've broken any of my things. Now, you be a good girl and let's go inside."
    He hauled her up first, steering her to the door, where he disengaged the locks, then simply let her drop.
    She felt the jolt, but it was distant, as if her body were padded with foam. Her mind was screaming for her to move, the message so loud she imagined herself springing up, but she couldn't feel her legs.
    Dimly, she heard him come in and close the door. "Now, let's get you into bed. We have a great deal to do. It's nearly Christmas, you know. There's my love," he murmured and carried her into the bedroom as if she were a doll.
    "I don't give a flying fuck about skeleton crews and available units," Eve shouted into the 'link. "Officer Peabody is down! She's down, goddamn you."
    Profanity is unacceptable on this channel, Dallas, Lieutenant Eve. This offense will be on record. Units are being dispatched. ETA twelve minutes.
    "She doesn't have