Loyalty in Death:In Death 09

By: J. D. Robb

On the miniscreen, Whitney’s brows drew together in surprise. “Yes?”

“Will you tag Peabody and McNab and Feeney? Tell them we’re okay here. Mostly okay, anyhow. They worry, and I’m feeling a little too flaked to triangulate our status. Oh, and tell Peabody to go get Zeke and maybe get him drunk or something. He’ll handle what went down here better that way.”

“Excuse me?”

She swayed as they came to the entrance level, shot Roarke a puzzled look as he shook with laughter. “Um, sorry, Commander, I think we’re running into some interference on this channel.”

Obligingly, Roarke took the communicator and shut it down. “There, before you ask your superior to join the drunken revelry.”

“Jesus, I can’t believe I said that.” She stepped out into the teeth of the wind, winced against the brilliant spin of lights from landing copters. She rubbed a hand over her face as the teams began to leap out and race toward the statue. “Let’s get out of here before I say something else stupid.”

By the time they dragged each other into the jet-copter, she wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner, any corner, and sleep for a week. Yawning, she turned her head and looked at Roarke as he took the controls. He was bloody, torn, and gorgeous. Through the fatigue, the worry, she grinned.

“Roarke? Nice working with you.”

His eyes glinted wild and blue and his grin flashed in return as the jets roared to life. “My pleasure, Lieutenant. As always.”