In Death 32 - Treachery in Death

shoulders. “You’re going to find out rank doesn’t mean dick.”
    “Touch me again, Garnet.” She knew she was baiting him now. She wanted to. “Put hands on me again, and you lose your badge for good. You’ve been using. You’ve confronted, threatened, and assaulted a superior officer—again. Get in your vehicle and drive away, or I take you all the way down.”
    “Fuck you.” He backhanded her; she let him. She went with the blow, let it propel her around as he moved in, fists raised.
    She slammed hers into his face. “No, please. Fuck you.”
    The unexpected punch knocked him back a step, had blood trickling from the side of his mouth.
    “Now, back off,” she warned, but he charged.
    His fist glanced off her shoulder, but had enough behind it to sing down her arm. Still she knew in that moment she could take him one-on-one. He was bigger, had more of a reach, but he was consumed by his fury, and sloppy with it.
    She blocked, hit him again with a hard, short-armed punch to the face. “Back the fuck off!”
    From behind her she heard the roar of an engine and knew Roarke was barreling down the drive. Time to end this, she thought, before somebody got seriously hurt.
    Even as she thought it, she saw the move. On instinct she kicked out, kicked hard so her boot connected with Garnet’s forearm. The weapon he’d drawn flew out of his hand, clattered against the iron gates.
    “You’ve lost your mind.” There was a tinge of genuine wonder in her voice. “You’ve completely lost your fucking mind.”
    As if to prove it, he started toward her. Then the gates swung open. Like her, he could hear the slam of a door, the rush of footsteps.
    “I’ve got this,” Eve said to Roarke as he bent to pick up Garnet’s weapon. “I’ve got this.”
    His eyes burned as cold as his voice. “Then you’d best get rid of it before I do.”
    Garnet, mouth bloody, left eye already swelling, looked from one to the other. “This isn’t over.” He stormed back to his car, wrenched the door open. “I’ll bury you, bitch!” he shouted before he jumped in, sped away.
    “You’re letting him go?”
    “For tonight.” Eve rolled her shoulder where Garnet’s fist had hit. “I want to see what he does. He’s sure as hell off his leash. I’ll report this—and it’s on record, my wire, your surveillance. Things go right, they can pick him up tomorrow, charge him with assault, assault with a deadly. It’d be enough, I think, for him to bargain, for him to flip on Renee for a deal.”
    “You could take him in now, same results.” Roarke handed her the weapon. “You don’t want a deal.”
    “You’re damn right I don’t. I want all of them, all the way—and maybe I’ll have enough for that by tomorrow.” She flexed her fingers, shrugged at the scraped knuckles. “But punching him in the face a couple times didn’t suck.”
    Roarke tipped her face up, dabbed gently at her lip with a fingertip. “Your lip’s bleeding.”
    She disengaged her recorder. “I let him get one in. The fucker can have the rep of all reps, but that recording, showing him hitting me, drawing first blood, moving in to draw more? Rat in a trap, and no way out of it.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t so often use your face as an investigative tool. I’m very fond of it.”
    She grinned, then winced as it smarted. “You ought to be used to it. Anyway, thanks for riding to the rescue. You need a white hat. Good guys wear white, right?”
    “I look better in black.”
    “Let’s go on in. I have to report a rogue cop—and what I’m going to bet is his unregistered weapon.”
    “It’s turning into quite a day,” Roarke commented.
    It wasn’t over for anyone.

    The last thing Renee Oberman needed after suffering through an endless meal that included a lecture from her father was to find Bill Garnet pacing outside her apartment.
    One look at his face told her he’d looked for trouble and found it, and he’d brought it to her door.
    “Go home, Bill, and put an ice pack on your face.”
    He grabbed her arm as she shot her key card in the slot. She’d expected it, but it didn’t make her yank away any less testy.
    “I’m not in the mood for this.”
    “I don’t give a shit what you’re in the mood for.” He shoved the door open, pushed her inside.
    She whirled around, outraged, shocked. “Don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”
    “I’ll put more than my hands on you. I’m done, Renee, done doing this your way.